This story “barreling” through the hot barn-yard doors, in a historical unprecedented heatwave, is about real estate “gems”, rare and magical moons, “open-houses”, mythology with your symbology, and “otherworldly” coordinates. Galloping forward with thunderous momentum and epic lightning proportions. We’ll travel by “flying” the “ether” through lore of past, present, and hopefully future trails, blazed from all over this glorious world (underworlds, sea world, and the ever elusive “on-line world”), and specific mentioning of a peculiar saddle made of pure gold.
Blue moon: “The word derives from the Old English word ‘belewe’, which had two separate meanings. One of them was ‘blue’. The other was ‘betrayer’.” And like this story and everything this “ghostwriter” “writes” has more than one meaning, almost always, and actually try and sneak as many in as possible. It’s just like an “inside-joke”, and likely glazed over, exactly how I like my donuts, but that’s another day of writing about apple picking, broken ankles, “cronuts” and yummy “bear claws”, and way before the sun dawns.
I apologize, twas lost dunking my thoughts in creamy, crispy, swirls of sugary caramelly goodness, cinnamon everything, piled on cool marshmallow whip, and more powdered sugar. Back to the story and my black cup of robust coffee merriment. Haven’t learned to “write-off” calories, gluten, dairy, soy or sin, yet; days still young, so I better get a move on.
Once in a blue moon is a common idiom which means that something happens only very rarely, seldom, only once in a long period of time; almost never. Side note/side bar: In some places, if there are two full moons in a calendar month, the second is called a `blue moon’.
Not that many moons ago, you’ll find a small quaint picturesque town, right out of a fairytale, make-believe, land. In the fall, which we should start to “see” in a few weeks, and off to the right of the freeway, you’ll see a bridge, what appears coming out of a mountain. Every color tree changes to raving reds, deep purples, golden yellow maple hues, and orange the color of pumpkin spice everything.
Auburn to be exact, where the horses roam “free” and is not too far from “here”. Nestled between the trees and the mountains, between the ethereal and surreal, “raw” nature and the unnatural. Beautiful, serene, majestic, earthy, and mysterious. Sounds like a perfect place to dwell and exactly where we are headed for this story is about to be “lit”.
For geographical reasons and to satisfy curiosity, Auburn is an actual place and is part of the Greater Sacramento area. My “home” for God willing thousands upon a thousand more blue moons and then maybe back again. (I’m sure my math is right) Native Americans, the Nisenan, an offshoot of the Maidu, were the first to establish a permanent settlement in the Auburn area. Auburn is registered as a historic city from the gold rush times, and curious residents can explore local rivers, catch and release fishing, photography manna enthusiasts galore, geology wonders, pan for gold, strike it rich, become “abducted”, or visit the Gold Rush Museum. (Source auburn.ca.gov and a curious “George” like me enjoying “antiques” downtown, exploring “everything”, whilst sipping pink tea.) Somehow a southern drawl escapes me and nothing like a stroll through time to waste some more time is a great pastime. Can’t say, “nay” dare says you!
Odd to receive an open house invitation after the post has already long been home and likely watching tv in his jammies. See, I know the postman, just so happens to be my brother-in-law. Recently retired now from years of triple digit weather, routes, and three headed mutts about. Oh, I’ve got great, bizarre, highly questionable, and harry stories for another super Sunday with, “Wa-a-a-ait a minute Mr. Postman!”
I showed my better half in a grand gesture (I’m kinda theatrical, once you know me) this extraordinary invite and let’s face it, I’m never invited to any parties or too many events, and holidays are tricky. So, he looked “shocked” at first and mulled over the intricate letter with gold, silver, and blue embroidered envelope. Also, not much gets my fancy, so when he saw my utter, “dyed in the wool”, excitement, agreed to “maybe” attend. He said, “This must have cost a pretty penny.” The letter looked official, and the paper was thicker than normal letters, i.e., bills. Oh, this was fancy!
Formally addressed to both of us and our full legal names, invited to attend a house “showing”. Apparently, we’d been first chosen or selected to view the property before the public and perhaps anyone else ever again. Didn’t really think too much at first about how this offer landed in my lap and impulsively jumped at the opportunity to buy our very first home.
Early, the next top of the morning, contacted the family real estate agent, “Collette” (see post Street of Dreamers for dear reference and reverence) and completely took her off-guard when I thought she was the inviter or with the amazing voice of Elvis; the “sender”. Turns out she didn’t send the mysterious letter but “knew” of the land and possibly its original title holder, landlord, or “keeper” of this secretive estate. Before hanging up, Collette sounded like she’d “heard” a ghost and command like, told me to, “wait by the phone”.
By now, I have almost everyone baffled by this invitation sent from no-one-knew-where and anxiously awaited her call. Literally, seemed like less than a minute passed, when Collette called back, over-the-moon. She gave me the directions (I can get lost in an elevator) and told me I was to talk with “Anita”, the agent apparently working with this very unique property. Collette in a motherly, concerning, shrill, matter-of-fact voice stressed, “Do not to get lost!” Why does everybody say this to me? Coverage is sketchy and can be difficult to navigate the back mountain roads. Gas up and call her immediately after.
My better half, Darren and I, loaded up the emerald Dodge Grand Caravan and embarked on our quest with excitement, a brand-new transmission, GPS, water, snacks, and gas. Headquarters consist of two captain’s chairs just like on the starship enterprise; that’s how we roll. I cannot even hold a map correctly, so GPS is a Godsend. Somehow, I don’t share Jack Black’s characters, “Bethany / Professor Shelly Oberon” in Jumanji’s, map questing skills and abilities, however, any reason to watch his movies an absolute must! Just try and find cell coverage; it’s a jungle out there. Oh, and this hungry, hungry hippo loves hippos! So, what, they can’t swim and are highly aggressive, but instead sink in the water and run along the river bottom; and I’m completely “tangeting”.
Just in case I’ve already got us turned around; Cartography is the study and practice of making and using maps. Combining science, aesthetics, technique, (and magic) cartography builds on the premise that reality (or an imagined reality) can be modeled in ways that communicate spatial information effectively. (Source Wikipedia, Cartography, brave and heavenly geographers, glorious 3-D models, and “green” screens with lime lights)
“What is the earliest known map is a matter of some debate, both because the term “map” is not well-defined and because some artifacts that might be maps might actually be something else. A wall painting that might depict the ancient Anatolian city of Çatalhöyük (previously known as Catal Huyuk) has been dated to the late 7th millennium BCE.”
“Other known maps of the ancient world include the Minoan “House of the Admiral” wall painting from c. 1600 BCE, showing a seaside community in an oblique perspective, and an engraved map of the holy Babylonian city of Nippur, from the Kassite period (14th – 12th centuries BCE). The oldest surviving world maps are from 9th century BCE Babylonia. One shows Babylon on the Euphrates, surrounded by Assyria, Urartu and several cities, all, in turn, surrounded by a “bitter river” (Oceanus).” (Source Wikipedia, bitter betties, and ancient history “wonderland”)
“The ancient Greeks and Romans created maps from the time of Anaximander in the 6th century BCE. In the 2nd century CE, Ptolemy wrote his treatise on cartography, Geographia. This contained Ptolemy’s world map.”
“In ancient China, geographical literature dates to the 5th century BCE. The oldest extant Chinese maps come from the State of Qin, dated back to the 4th century BCE, during the Warring States period. In the book of the Xin Yi Xiang Fa Yao, published in 1092 by the Chinese scientist Su Song, a star map on the equidistant cylindrical projection. The greatest significance of the star maps by Su Song is that they represent the oldest existent star maps in printed form.”
“Early forms of cartography of India included depictions of the pole star and surrounding constellations. These charts may have been used for navigation.” At the very least.
We could stay here all day and discuss maps, mapping, parameters, dimensions, realms, horoscopes, oopsies, and major whoopsies. “Cartographic “vandalism”: a mapmaker wishing to leave their mark on the work. Mount Richard, for example, was a fictitious peak on the Rocky Mountains’ continental divide that appeared on a Boulder County, Colorado map in the early 1970s. It is believed to be the work of draftsman Richard Ciacci. The fiction was not discovered until two years later.”
Another mystery: “Sandy Island in New Caledonia is an example of a fictitious location that stubbornly survives, reappearing on new maps copied from older maps while being deleted from other new editions.” Or that’s what “they” tell us and google maps have the most mysterious, at times disturbing, interesting, and mind-boggling images / maps to captivate an afternoon or two. We’ll veer our “vessel” back to shore for more of this story is about to “land”.
If you see a green van that appears to have a baseball lodged in the back window looking like shattered glass, that is us! It’s a crafty, ingenious, sticker given for Father’s Day and a conversation piece for the sports enthusiast. We’ve spent our whole lives exploring Northern California, so it seems another jaunt through the backyard a perfect avenue for breathtaking adventure that awaits.
Riding along Folsom-Auburn Road like a million times before and checking for street names to make our turn-off through the hills, I felt a growing anticipation. Would this be home?
Passed Snowy Owl, Eagle’s nest, Russell, Sacramento, El Dorado, Gold Street, Pacific and Pleasant Avenue, Dale Drive, Forest Hill and a ton more. Speed through ravines, canyons, curves, edges, cliffs, and mountains; must admit we’re lost and completely confused about our surroundings. Before giving up, defeated focus and my patience, the golden pathway emitted a familiar street name, we ascended. Finally, I can see the road less traveled and thought, maybe this is too far out from civilization. Probably, no late quick fast-food trips on the road less traveled or, more like, road to “nowhere”, outta no-womans-land, and was thinking, how am I going to get groceries delivered.
Collette was spot on and couldn’t make a call out to anyone when I saw the tremendous, grand, and long gravel driveway. Lined with gigantic oaks! A tall blonde woman standing out in front of the home. She looked like my fav wrestler Nattie, and I wondered how long she’d been standing there waiting for us. The home was beyond beautiful, a modern log house meets expensive cabin chic. Many custom homes are built here, and the land makes for a perfect blueprint, an architect’s dream, or a painter’s fantasy landscape.
Greeted “Anita” with an “I’m so sorry we’re late”, and she half smiled, corrected me, and said, “My name is Athena.” “Oh”, I laughed and explained, I’m hearing impaired. That part is true and didn’t divulge the mix-up. Darren said, “Isn’t that the name for the goddess of war in Greek mythology”? She responded with a nod and said immediately, “Do you like the house?”
There were specific instructions with this house, willed in with the concrete foundation, otherworldly hammered mortar, engrained in the ancient wood, and “left” with the mysterious land rights, the title on another planet (I’m guessing Mars, more-likely-than-not, the dark side of the moon). Three bedrooms, three baths, and well over 2000 square feet meant an ideal abode for our growing ambitions and family. Normally this area is out of my price range and looking at this beautiful place to call home, my heart sunk knowing I couldn’t afford this. I imagined a fixer-upper not an exquisite looking chateau.
“The house is yours!” “One exception with this estate, I have to mention”, Athena stated with authority, kinda blasé, and a smidgeon of underlying contention. “The property is held for a horse; you and your family can have the home as long as you can care for this horse.” Both my better half and I perplexed, there’s got to be a catch. (FYI: there’s always a … “catch”!)
I have only ridden two horses in my life total. Both occasions, not well, either, but the love of horses, I cannot deny. Now, on the other hand, my husband has equestrian DNA. Half Swedish Viking, splash of British, and a dash of ancient Sumerian and Persia, and the other half ancient Mayan. A multitude of nicknames, still growing, and a plethora of meanings to those descriptions; “Muscles” being one.
My significant other, bestie, loyal compadre and confidant, husband, better-half has ample charm, intelligence, panache, looks, heart, and the reason I do half the things I do! I could go on. He has deep family roots, country ties, sprawling ranches, wine, and I reckon numerous horses to ride. (Shout out to Uncle Dale’s and Auntie Mary’s everywhere, boxed wine, Thanksgivings, teachers, preachers, pups, cowboys, three best-selling novels (about riding good horses), and years of ranchin’ family bliss.)
“What do you mean”, I implored. I turned around and she was gone! “Athena must be by the barn so we can meet Mr. Ed”, I said to Darren. How did she disappear, I wondered to myself. We stepped out to a golden meadow that looked right out of a Disney film. Flowers lined the yard artfully and looked fake, they were so perfect. Blue birds tweeting from the idyllic trees across heavenly blue skies and puffy white clouds. It’s like this property had its own biofield, for the weather changed and now a cool 77 degrees. Impeccable and divine were these grounds and skies, went traipsing through on cloud 9’s extraordinary views.
This barn is massive, and I must admit bigger than most people’s homes. Figured this place must have been a horse sanctuary that Auburn is famous for. Darren opened the large and in charge double doors, and the softest summer breeze blew through us. Smelled of jasmine and juniper, not a barn or what entails a barnyard smell. I’m not that “city” and know what a farm looks and smells like. Noticed how immaculate and pristine everything was; organized like a pro! Things that make you go hmmm. God smacked, who was the previous owner?
Looking around the stables, Darren found another treasure, this time a sealed treasure chest. “Should we open this,” nervously questioning me. We’d been there all of 5 minutes. Sarcasm is my first language, just not as fluent in unfamiliar territory. I’ve seen way too many scary movies to the contrary. I can make coffee nervous and that’s my calm state of being.
“Maybe, we should wait for Athena,” as I was looking around trying to acclimate and locate this “agents” whereabouts, moreover, just being snoopy and bewildered, always cautious. Famous last words, too late the chest was now opened, and a glowing bridle and saddle magically peered out.
“Oh my God, is that gold!” Darren stood from his kneeling position, agape and awe struck. Staggering back, both of us kinda in shock, when turned around and before us stood a huge Clydesdale tall, largest stallion you ever did see, all-white horse staring back at us.
I didn’t know what to do at this point and awkwardly and timidly bowed to the horse and said, “Hi, you must be Mr. Ed?” The horse snorted and shook his head. Wow, what a majestic being this horse looked like and I was as dumbfounded as ever. Darren said, “This bridle and saddle must be yours!” And the horse snorted again, but I promise the nod was a confirmation.
Darren, aka, “Muscles” lifted the extremely heavy glowing saddle and bridle out of the chest with all his might and the horse immediately started pawing the ground, loudly. There are many reasons why a horse may be pawing at the ground; it may be bored or restless, playful, anxious, or in this situation possibly irritated.
Animals usually like us and have only encountered one wild unruly stallion before, but to his defense, our mare was in heat. “While each horse is unique, there are several signs that a horse is in heat. Some of the most common signs include tail raising, frequent urination, anxiety, increased interest in stallions, squealing, signs of aggression, unpredictable behavior, and looser bowel movements.” (Source equinehelper.com) I’m “speaking” about a horse, of course, but teenagers are ironically, similar, but I digress. Back to the story and flipping my hair back and forth.
Darren determined to saddle this colossal, extraordinary beast and truly thought that’s what “he” wanted. I, however, need much more data before I go riding anywhere. I walked up to this humungous horse and realized in a flash, looking into his gorgeous, awesome, otherworldly, black eyes and the longest, most incredible, (Giving Max Factor a run for his money) eyelashes you ever did see; this was a magical creature and I know his name!
My Einstein lightbulb blew and instantly I knew, this is Pegasus!!!
“In Greek mythology, Pegasus was an immortal winged horse, one of the two children of Poseidon and Medusa.” Not your “normal” or average familyhood upbringing. More notably, “Pegasus sprang forth most miraculously from his pregnant mother’s neck after Perseus had beheaded her. He belonged (or enchanted) to the hero Bellerophon (“the greatest hero and slayer of monsters, alongside Cadmus and Perseus, before the days of Heracles”) for some time, before being stabled by Zeus and tasked with drawing the chariot of his thunderbolts.” (Source greekmythology.com and my insatiable research, sipping cherry cola and munching animal crackers)
“Zeus is the sky and thunder god in ancient Greek religion, who rules as king of the gods of Mount Olympus. His name is cognate with the first element of his Roman equivalent Jupiter. His mythology and powers are similar, though not identical to those of Indo-European deities such as Jupiter, Perkūnas, Perun, Indra, and Dyaus.” (Wikipedia) (Shout out to my black cat, golden eyed Zues, meow!)
“Notoriously wild and free-roaming, Pegasus was finally tamed by Bellerophon. But he didn’t do it by himself: he had a lot of help from Athena. According to Pindar, one of the most celebrated Ancient Greek poets, the goddess gifted him with a charmed golden bridle, which Bellerophon used to capture Pegasus when the stallion was drinking water at the Pierian spring; a water source associated with Pegasus and the Muses.” Don’t you hate it when that happens?
“Riding on Pegasus, Bellerophon was capable of overcoming the Amazons, the fire-breathing Chimaera, and the warlike Solymi.” Now many blood moons before our time, these “creature’s” might truly have existed and likely our genetically modified or enhanced ancestors. Think your blood line has some beasts!? Genetics then and still, can also be tricky, get “sticky” or “harry”, one of those terms aptly applies, but now I’ve got the heebie-jeebies, and I know why.
“The Amazons are portrayed in a number of ancient epic poems and legends, such as the Labours of Hercules, the Argonautica and the Iliad. They were a group of female warriors and hunters, who beat men in physical agility and strength, in archery, riding skills, and the arts of combat. Their society was closed for men, and they only raised their daughters, either killing their sons or returning them to their fathers, with whom they would only socialize briefly in order to reproduce.” Again, no apron strings “here” to cling too while baking homemade chocolate chip cookies.
“Homer gives a description of the Chimera in the Iliad, saying that “she was of divine stock, not of men, in the fore part a lion, in the hinder a serpent, and in the midst a goat, breathing forth in terrible wise the might of blazing fire.” Both Hesiod and Apollodorus give similar descriptions: a three-headed creature, with a lion in front, a fire-breathing goat in the middle, and a serpent in the rear.” (Source Wikipedia, enchanting afternoon with greeklegendsandmyths.com, silver and forked tongues slithering through elective studies, Shh…)
“Bellerophon would fly to the area where the Chimera was located in Lycia, and from the air, and well out of range of the fiery breath, Bellerophon let loose with his arrows. The arrows of Bellerophon though failed to penetrate the skin of the monstrous hybrid.”
“In ancient times, Lycia was a village that had about 100 settlements. Due to its location in Turkey, Lycia was an important city in both ancient Greece and Anatolia. Historians aren’t sure when exactly Lycia was founded, but artifacts discovered by archaeologists suggest that it is at least 2,000 years old.” Trotting onward and upward!
Using standard methods of traveling, one could spend anywhere from $500-2000 a ticket one way, journey of almost 7000 miles of ancient magical wonderment, 16-20 anticipated hours, and over 2000 glorious (amnesiac) years later. Brought my neck pillow, ear buds, rock tunes, holy water, sleep mask, and I’m using it properly. Now that we’re comfy, back to the perilous and beastly jaunt through mythology.
“Again, Bellerophon was undaunted by the quest he faced, for quickly the Corinthian hero “hatched” a new plan, “ditched” his bow and arrows, and returned to the fight with a lance.”
“This of course meant that Bellerophon would have to get closer to the Chimera, but Bellerophon’s plan was not to pierce the hide of the monster, for Bellerophon had embedded a block of lead upon his lance.”
“Aiming true blue, Bellerophon directed his lance into the mouth of the Chimera, and as he did so, the fiery breath of the monster melted the lead, causing it to flow down its throat. Subsequently, the lead hardened again, suffocating, killing, and ultimately defeating the legendary beast called the Chimera.”
“The victorious Bellerophon would return to the Lycian royal court, but the shock of seeing Bellerophon unharmed quickly passed, and soon Jobates (Lycian king) came up with a second plan to kill off the Greek hero. A barbarous tribe, known as the Solymi, lived on the northern borderland of Lycia. Troublesome in nature, Jobates figured that Bellerophon would be overpowered by sheer numbers of opponents. Making “good” use of Pegasus again, Bellerophon ensured that he did not get in a position to be overpowered, and easily picked off individuals, before the rest of the Solymi fled further north.” (Source greeklegendsandmyths.com, war tactics, strategy, and manipulative “master puppeteers”.)
“In addition, Pegasus was the means through which Bellerophon exacted his revenge on Jobates’ wife, Stheneboea, who testified falsely against Bellerophon after he had rejected her advances. According to some, afterward Bellerophon offered her a ride on Pegasus, which she gladly accepted; however, as they were flying over the sea, the winged stallion flung her down to its depths.” (Yikes)
“Little did Bellerophon know at the time that he would meet a similar fate. After his numerous victories against all kinds of opponents, Bellerophon started believing that the mortals aren’t worthy of his presence and that he deserves to live among the gods on Mount Olympus. So, he mounted his faithful steed and started his journey upward. Zeus, angered by Bellerophon’s hubris, soon sent a gadfly which stung Pegasus bad enough that the winged horse threw his rider down to earth and to his death.” (I “heard” Bellerophon lived but was crippled, blind, and left abandoned and devastated upon a “Meteor” like impact. Don’t they all?)
“After some time, the riderless Pegasus did reach Olympus. Zeus stabled him with his other steeds and soon after tasked him with drawing his thunderbolt-carrying chariot. After years of loyal service, Zeus awarded Pegasus with a constellation, which bears his name to this very day.” Or so we thought … Still going to make a wish tonight, on the brightest star in the constellation, which is Epsilon Pegasi, that forms the nose.
Getting this bridle and saddle on Pegasus proved to be quite a challenge, but Darren insisted this horse wants to be ridden. As if Darren could no longer hear me and completely hypnotized, in a fog like daze! Ignored my trepidations and wrestled the saddle upon Pegasus, situating the golden bridle over the horse’s head just right. That’s exactly when the loudest, skull-cracking thunder boomed through the barn, and paralyzing fear bolted through every fiber in me. Lightning, vivid electric neon blue, shook the barn, the ground, and me to my core and before I could mutter a word, “Muscles”, had his outstretched arm to lift me up on the horse, and high off of the trembling, rumbling, floor. I too was quaking and also the ground, Earth as I knew it, ceased to be no more!
The audible sound of thunder alone vibrated harshly, sporadic, and erratically, being an understatement. That being “said”, definitely helped the adrenaline pump, lifted or levitated me up quick! Not a thought could escape. Sandwiched between a magical being and my husband, I wondered how this even happened. A fateful thunderstorm was now upon us, no more clear blue skies, but thick dark clouds. Lightning strikes all around us and Pegasus galloped through the barn ferociously. Gaining speed and velocity, we both held on for dear life’s sake.
Galloping like a runaway train, the golden meadow whipped by at extraordinary speeds. “Hang on!”, “Muscles” yelled, because we were about to ride off a cliff from a steep mountainside and that’s just what we did! Ya know, that feeling when you are about to fall asleep, and jolt awake? Whelp, it’s that times a billion! My stomach stayed hiding on land, while my vertigo was riding an upside-down rollercoaster named “Treacherous” (Ode to Medusa), but my eyes noticed a swarm of black moving particles in the not-so-far-off distance. Oh, and lest I forget, we were totally flying!
Turns out, trying to ride a mythical beast in the air and learning to drive a stick shift from your father is quite similar and equally as terrifying, but I will admit, Pegasus has a leg up, here. Dropping at crazy speeds of altitude and flying dangerously close to trees, mountains, and balls of lightning, defying death and likely the wishes of the “owner” of Pegasus. Many thoughts spring forward when trying to thwart doom and gloom, like panicked, frozen, petrified feelings, and irrational reasonings. How does one communicate with an otherworldly horse, get him to land (more ways than one), and can anyone see this freakshow happening above!?
It was hard to hear and steer; so, Darren grabbed the reigns and before we all plummeted into a grotesque swarm of giant man and woman eating “horse flies”, he yelled for Pegasus to fly us to safety, “Take us home!” Yup, you heard giant horse flies correctly; gadfly’s to be exact and they sting and bite livestock. No, Milly is not my name and I quit eating meat for a while now, eons ago. Normally, I am a delectable, preferred tasty morsel of snack bait for mosquitoes, so I’m pretty positive these malformed savage flies will find me just as juicy. Apparently, we have angered ancient extraterrestrials by taking their “pet” out for a joyride, so talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place, except for the dangling in the air.
To narrowly escape an electric chair execution, I’m sure of it; Pegasus took us out to the open sea, and although extremely beautiful, I couldn’t help but shake from fear and uncontrollable shivers of dread. Where were we going and what did we just endure? How on Earth, was any of this possible!?
On an average ho-hum day, it takes two to three hours, without traffic, to reach the glorious blue waves of the vast Pacific Ocean. Zigzagged, swooped in the air (but believe you me, I care) glided, and swiftly flew through ominous dark black clouds, “wicked-fierce” bolts of lightning, over ginormous mountains, dusted magnificent sequoias, zoomed like a flash over packed freeways, all of, maybe, twenty minutes. Never caught my breath.
To put things in perspective, I can only compare to what earthly “beings” are present; “California condors are the largest land birds in North America, with impressive wingspans of 9.5 feet and weights of around 20 pounds. The exact lifespan of a California condor is unknown, but they are estimated to live over 60 years.” No comparison really when magic is concerned, but Pegasus has the California condor beat, thrice the size, and quadruple the “force”!
Surrounded entirely by the sea, no land in sight; I looked over the wingspan of this so-called horse and could see Pegasus galloping over the water as if it was terrain. Must be miles out at sea and looking into the depths of the ocean, we could glimpse quick reflections. Astounding beauty and sheer terror, what a combination to behold.
Pegasus gave a gleeful squeal and about 1000 entire pods of dolphins spanned before us and jumped in the air. “The dolphins are trying to impress us”, “Muscles” cheered, and they speed up trying to catch up. Twirling, diving, and epic splashing, these dolphins “waved” from the boundless, endless sea of blue waves.
We saw pelicans that were beyond shocked to see us, and flocks of seagulls all named Jonathon. Silver, platinum, cobalt blues, savvy navies, seafoam greens, and golden waves as far as the eye could see. The storm behind us, for now, or so we thought, and blue skies with cotton candy clouds drifted by in the sea salt crisp air. Surely, this is heaven, we supposed. We hugged each other with delusional delight!
When the sunbeams reach ocean waves, whilst riding a mythical horse, snuggled tight in the arms of your beloved makes such a profound sound within one’s heart and soul. I can only describe a colorful cosmic music frequency emanates. I guess that’s essentially what an aura is and in some kind of weirdly beautiful telepathic communication was obtained from Pegasus; “straight from the horse’s mouth”. He was over-the-moon excited to go home! Freedom alas!
“This expression first became popular around the 1920s. It comes from the practice of examining a horse’s teeth to determine its age.” (Source writingexplained.org, expensive gifts, “white elephants”, on-going maintenance, dental checkups, idioms, horse racing, and a perfect racehorse’s bite.)
What was most alarming about yay-high length wave away and building in sheer vertical height, appeared a wall of water, or, to me; sure death, a rip-tide shelf, watery grave, suffocating, drowning blockade, and Pegasus was speeding up right towards it. What you may call a tsunami, tidal wave, a “50-Year Storm”, or the most wicked-nasty wave for daredevil, adrenaline junkies, or surfs up bro; you decide.
As if this horse yelled back and I was wearing a hat, “Hold on to your cowboy hats, we’re in for a bumpy ride!” Pegasus pounded the water mightily and you could hear the crashing of his tremendous hooves smacking against the sea. It’s like the sea converted to sand beneath this powerful horse’s legs and reluctantly, us! No time to look back (literally and figuratively), fear alone kept me transfixed on this never-ending wave ascending. The force felt extremely heavy, yet Pegasus gained speed and velocity with each step forward. Miraculously, we were climbing higher and higher.
Finally, and with all my breath held, reached the plateau or point break in the wave, and then Pegasus leapt on absolute faith. We shot in the air above the world, so high, like diamonds shimmering and cutting through the sky. The crescendo was crystal silence. In a fraction of a millisecond “everything” becomes clear. Things that cannot be explained or more possibly understood and comprehended. Only God, the exceptional maestro, or divine architect knows why and I’m positive he said, “Hi!” in that “micro” quick fly-by.
Strangely our oxygen levels never changed and before I could scientifically make any determinations, regain what’s left of my “wits” and those misplaced bearings, we were descending rapidly. Darren whispered in my “good” ear, and was pointing to a land mass below, “We’re either in another world, or the other side of the world, because that looks like the boot of Sicily!” “Muscles” is an expert at navigation and geography, whereas I am beyond deficient in this arena, and we could be back in time and on the flip side of the pond for all I knew.
Through the pink and purple puffy clouds, a rainbow ramp appeared and remarkably formed through the mist. Galloping with gusto meta-morphed into roller skating-ish or rollerblading if your fancy; I was never good at skating in the first place, but always enamored. I can’t tell you how fast we were going, Officer, and I’ve misplaced my registration. That’s not the screeching from tires you hear coming to a halt, nor Metallica blaring from my speakers; ride the lightning, although a great soundtrack for just a special occasion.
A hop, skip, and a hearty jump later, we noticed a prominent mountain peak ahead and a heavenly waterfall jutting out from beneath it. That’s where we’re going for sure and obviously “home”. In a plane this would take five hours, but here we are about five minutes later; “Upper Corinth”, “The Upper Peirene spring located within the encircling walls of enchantment forevermore. The spring, which is behind the temple, they say was a “gift”. Of course, this is conjecture and rightly depends on who you ask, and what you consider a gift, and what constitutes the “gift” in the first place, but I digress. Veering back to the story and legally keeping my nose clean.
“Land ahoy!” And we’ve reached our destination, ground to be exact. Hope you enjoyed your perilous out-of-this-world flight and our glad to be back on land once more. Trotting along a picturesque trail, passed an intricate gateway and bronze sculpture to the right (What up, “Herk”!). We all felt light as a feather and stiff as a board, all at the same time. After this is the entrance to the water of Peirene. Hopeful and utter joy could be felt from this horse and my excitement swelled for his “spirit” free, at long last.
In Greek mythology, Pirene or Peirene was a nymph; folklore states, was a minor female nature deity. Different from Greek goddesses, nymphs are generally regarded as personifications of nature, are typically tied to a specific place or landform, and are usually depicted as beautiful maidens who can be immortal. Nymphs are often depicted in classic works across art, literature, mythology, and fiction.
“When her son was unintentionally killed, Peirene’s grief was so profound that she became nothing but tears and turned into the Peirene (fountain) outside the gates of Corinth. The Corinthians had a small sanctuary dedicated to Peirene by the fountain where honey-cakes were offered to her during the dry months of summer.”
Almost home, “Honey cakes” and don’t those sound great! It’s always better to never come empty handed, manners a must no matter how far out yonder. Gladly share my recipes, that’s another day of writing, tasting, and walking on sunshine, enjoyed!
“O for a beaker … full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene.” Used to refer to poetic or literary inspiration and created like the Peirene by Pegasus. “It was sacred to the Muses and formed by the hooves of Pegasus. Its name literally translates as “Horse’s Fountain”, and about two more hours uphill from here.
“The spring is ornamented with white marble, and there have been made chambers like caves, out of which the water flows into an open-air well.” “It is pleasant to drink,” said, not audibly, a beautiful young woman who emerged from the waters slowly and exquisitely graceful. Extremely long dark braided hair, “real” gold highlights intwined, crowned a young pale faced woman. Eyes black as purest night and for a brief second, “knew” not to “look” too close into them. Although coming out of the spring, she wasn’t wet, but her hair and dress that remained under the water appeared in liquid form, floating and wafting on the water top in slow motion. Couldn’t look away, trancelike, she was magic incarnate.
Her dress elegant, regal, and Grecian like, off one shoulder, midnight blue and studded with a million tiny gemstones, or more. Sparkles of divine light, darting about, in and out of the water gleamed brilliantly, and fireflies danced and mingled through the veil about, bringing the twilight into actual sight. (Stagehands on fleek, “ready”, and 10!) The water in the spring now “Picasso” swirls of aquamarine, turquoise, cyan, indigo, and spellbinding navy blues.
Pegasus sauntered to the edge of the spring and curtsied the otherworldly nymph, and she slowly lifted her head in recognition. When her delicate, fragile looking, shimmering hand extended to Pegasus touched, the spring came to life!
A lovely glittery rose-golden-lavender wave washed everything that once was, and we were completely amazed to witness an extraordinary moment. Time stopped; the saddle and gold bridle vanished. Instead, a beyond detailed, “illustriously” made, woven, with blood maroon reds, cobalt and deep blues, every kind and carrot of gold, and platinum-white-silver threads, embroidered intricately, essentially, a horse blanket with gold tassels. To anyone else a magic carpet and reminded me of my parents’ Persian rug, about the same size to boot, probably as old. That’s another day and story through hourglasses, Arabian horses and nights, deserts, time, sand, magic, and stone.
The love from this reunion, undeniable and immense! Every kind of rose sprang in full bloom and flowers I never knew existed stood at perfect attention. Pegasus was home! Love in any and all forms is a powerful thing! “Muscles” held my hand, kissed my head as tears I could not help, rolled down, like a downpour. Peirene looked at the two of us standing out like sore thumbs, or two lost out-of-towners, the ever-perpetual tourists and offered refreshments. But, again, I never “heard” a word or syllable spoken.
“Telepathy”, presented a swig from the spring and garden nearby; cake for us, raw carrots and an all-time fav honey-apple crisps for Pegasus, and one last “pet” of love and gratitude, or a simple exchange of sincere, heartfelt, Thank You’s. We were exhausted and cold, since twilight turned to “now” midnight, way past our bedtimes. Surrounded by magical blue moonlight, a larger than usual phat harvest moon. It too gorged on pumpkin seeds till it was so full, it could pop!
I don’t ever remember drifting off to sleep, but when we awoke, we were home! Covering our discombobulated, entirely confused, beyond relieved, “road worn”, drenched wet bodies, was Pegasus’s blanket, totally dry. There’s no doubt, therapy session, or pill that can erase or explain our excursion from the outer depths of Auburn, the ocean, reality, life, and this world! All I “know”, horses are pure magical beings, with wild magnetism and “harnessed” natural power; blue moons are rare and true, love the fall blessings evermore, harvest awesome moods, and be good to yourselves and all souls everywhere! They’re counting on you.
To be continued ….
3 thoughts on “Once Upon a Blue Moon”
Beautiful post with beautiful photos. Well shared thanks 👍
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Thank you !! ❤ !!
My pleasure 🥰 read my story 😃
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