What better time to seek guidance from the cards (new deck!) than after that retrograde wallop we all made it through?

I’ve chatted with quite a few people who have had a wild few weeks. If you’re a stargazer, you might be able to blame it on retrograde.

But we’re through!

The yard

Before we dive in, a few things from my fave place: the backyard.

I busted out my “fancy cam” and wandered around this week.

For those who are new here, my main gig for the past sixteen years has been portrait photography. So, I’ve been trying my hand at some nature images when I can, and it’s really fun!

Here are a few from the backyard:

Oh, and my first IG reel recently went viral!

Little chippy chipmunk trying to stuff a giant peanut in her cheeks. If you’re an animal nut or just need a smile, it’s worth a watch.

If you’re into this kinda thing, I post pretty regularly over there:

more backyard goodness

The cards

Today’s reading is a message intended to orient you post-retrograde.

And if you’re not an astrology person—I only dip my toe in from time to time myself—then think of it as something to consider working with the next couple of weeks, or longer.

A friend of mine surprise-gifted me this deck last night, so naturally I couldn’t wait to make a post with it.

With 80 cards instead of the Rider-Waite’s traditional 78, this deck offers a couple of little twists (like three versions of the Lovers) as well as some dreamy, mythical imagery.

Enjoy!

xo,

Natalie

Pick a card

Take a breath.

Listen to your gut.

Then scroll down…

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one

Three of Wands, rx

Now that retrograde has wrapped up, you might be expecting everything to suddenly click into place.

If it hasn’t, don’t panic.

Sometimes clarity doesn’t arrive the moment the retrograde ends. Sometimes it arrives a bit later, once we’ve had a chance to absorb everything that shifted.

If this is your card, resist the urge to rush toward the next thing.

Stay with what’s right in front of you for a little while longer.

There may be one final lesson, conversation, or realization waiting to reveal itself before the path ahead comes into focus.

Remember, not every delay is a sign you’re off course.

two

Ten of Wands

If retrograde highlighted just how much you’ve been carrying, this is your permission slip to do something about it.

Awareness is wonderful, but eventually it has to become action.

You don’t have to keep carrying something just because you’ve carried it for a long time.

As you move forward, ask yourself what you’re actually ready to put down.

Maybe it’s a responsibility, maybe it’s a belief, or maybe it’s the pressure you’ve been putting on yourself. Whatever it is, let this be the season where you stop confusing “doing more” or “holding more” with moving forward.

three

Eight of Swords, rx

This card feels like the exhale after a long season of overthinking.

If retrograde brought old fears, patterns, or limiting beliefs to the surface, now you get to decide which ones you’re no longer taking with you.

You don’t need a completely different life to experience freedom.

Sometimes all it takes is one new perspective.

One moment where you catch yourself telling the old story and choose a different one instead. Trust yourself a little more than you did yesterday. You may be surprised by how much has already changed.

Other ways to work with me & enjoy my backyard:

Instagram

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We’re wrapping up sekki four. Join me for sekki five by adding what you notice to the comments.

More info here.

Welcome to sekki four 🌿

Another sekki down! I had my date wrong on the calendar, so forgive me for being a couple of days late with this. If you’re doing your own noticing and want to see the calendar, you can find it here.

I debated giving this sekki the “blossom” name because they were so fierce until recently, but the leaves also emerged and popped. This pushes the ground flowers in the forest to bloom before their precious access to sunlight is blocked.

Perhaps next year I’ll change sekki three to the time of ground flowers…

Here are a few things I’ve been up to:

Sekki Four: The Time of Leaves (May 5th-May 20th)

It seems obvious, I suppose, but the name I offer up for this micro-season is:

The Time of Leaves

Some moments from sekki four:

I noticed:

• First round of baby birds leaving the nest

• Elm samaras littering the ground

• Dandelions really popping

• First apple tree blossoms

• Emergence of bleeding heart (late for me this year)

• Wild strawberry blossoms

• creeping charlie still blooming

• Forest wild flowers racing sunlight including hepatica, bloodroot, bellworts, violets, and trilliums and more…

• Hummingbirds return!

• Morels emerge in the forest

• Ferns unfurl

• Lilacs lace the air with perfume

• Clover grows

• Apple blooms dull and fall

• Hollyhocks begin to climb

• Clouds of gnats attract the bats

• Deer look fatter

• Toads hopping around the yard

• Burdock fills out to edge the forest

🌷What have you noticed? Please share in the comments xo

what now?

I hope you’ll join me.

how?

However, you’d like—journal practice, photo practice, field notes—but I’d love it if you shared along with me in the comments. Once I publish a sekki or kō letter, add a link or an observation that struck you from that same microseason in your neighborhood.

Maybe, if we complete a whole cycle, there will be a living artifact of presence and noticing right here to return to.

That’d be very cool.

orientation

April 4th is the end of the first sekki, if you’re using the vernal equinox as a starting point, like me. (The Japanese tradition—where sekki and kō originate—starts in early February).

But you can start whenever you want.

xo,

Natalie

FULL CALENDAR

THE 24 SEKKI

(There are 3 kō—or micro seasons of change—within each sekki)

SPRING

1. Feb 4–18

2. Feb 19–Mar 5

3. Mar 6–20

4. One: The Time of Sun and Snow, Mar 21–Apr 4

5. Two: The Time of Budding, Apr 5–19

6. Three: The Time of Birds and Blossoms, Apr 20–May 4

7. Four: The Time of Leaves, May 5–20

8. May 21–Jun 5, ← we’re here as of this writing, but you can hop in anytime

9. Jun 6–20

SUMMER

10. Jun 21–Jul 6

11. Jul 7–22

12. Jul 23–Aug 7

13. Aug 8–22

14. Aug 23–Sep 7

AUTUMN

15. Sep 8–22

16. Sep 23–Oct 7

17. Oct 8–22

18. Oct 23–Nov 6

19. Nov 7–21

WINTER

20. Nov 22–Dec 6

21. Dec 7–21

22. Dec 22–Jan 4

23. Jan 5–19

24. Jan 20–Feb 3

read more about this practice

my hope during this practice

To slow down. Be present. Learn new things. Make poetic notes about it all. Get better at clocking the tiny shifts in this complex ecosystem (I’m in central Minnesota near a marsh).

I’ve always had a deep desire for a more comprehensive understanding of what’s happening around me in the natural world.

I’m also looking forward to researching and learning about the things I don’t know about, everything from plants and birds to medicinal uses for things and subtle shifts or patterns.

what are sekki and kō?

As I outlined in my last letter, the Japanese micro-season tradition, or “small season” movement, caught my attention in a big way.

Four seasons are buckets far too broad to really track what’s going on.

Instead, the micro-season practice divides the year into 24 sekki (roughly 2 weeks each), with each of those nesting 3 kō (5 days each).

The sekki are given names based on what is happening at the time. “The time of…” and kō, essentially, are poetic snippets of what you see.

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We’re wrapping up sekki three. Join me for sekki four by adding what you notice to the comments.

Despite a slow, cold spring here in MN, it just keeps getting better.

Since my last note, we’ve welcomed three new chicken friends into the flock. They are still fairly young and are learning the ropes. But it’s great to have some new and happy chicken vibes around here.

Sekki Three: The Time of Birds and Blossoms (April 20th-May 4th)

It seems obvious, I suppose, but the name I offer up for this micro-season is:

The Time of Birds and Blossoms

This time of year is hard not to favor as number one. It’s just so damn cheerful and hopeful and beautiful.

Practicing smaller seasons really helps me to appreciate the ephemeral nature of one of my favorite spring things: blossoms.

They explode from trees and are gone just as quickly. Like a good meal, I try my best to savor them.

Some moments from sekki three:

I noticed:

• Turkeys strutting for their mates

• Garden centers stocked (okay, not nature, but still noteworthy)

• Hyacinth blooms

• Peony and bleeding heart plants shooting through the soil

• Rose plants growing first shoots

• Wild daffodils opening

• Bees bumbling through the carpet of creeping charlie

• Anenomies opening

• Violets, dandelions and other small lawn flowers popping

• Honeysuckle opening

• Hornets buzzing

• Raspberry plants leafing out

• box elder blooms falling

• Tuplips singing at the sun

• Leaves thickening and shimmering lime green

• Blossoms everywhere!

🌷What have you noticed? Please share in the comments xo

what now?

I hope you’ll join me.

how?

However, you’d like—journal practice, photo practice, field notes—but I’d love it if you shared along with me in the comments. Once I publish a sekki or kō letter, add a link or an observation that struck you from that same microseason in your neighborhood.

Maybe, if we complete a whole cycle, there will be a living artifact of presence and noticing right here to return to.

That’d be very cool.

orientation

April 4th is the end of the first sekki, if you’re using the vernal equinox as a starting point, like me. (The Japanese tradition—where sekki and kō originate—starts in early February).

But you can start whenever you want.

xo,

Natalie

FULL CALENDAR

THE 24 SEKKI

(There are 3 kō—or micro seasons of change—within each sekki)

SPRING

1. Feb 4–18

2. Feb 19–Mar 5

3. Mar 6–20

4. One: The Time of Sun and Snow, Mar 21–Apr 4

5. Two: The Time of Budding, Apr 5–19

6. Three: The Time of Birds and Blossoms, Apr 20–May 4

7. May 5–20, ← we’re here as of this writing, but you can hop in anytime

8. May 21–Jun 5

9. Jun 6–20

SUMMER

10. Jun 21–Jul 6

11. Jul 7–22

12. Jul 23–Aug 7

13. Aug 8–22

14. Aug 23–Sep 7

AUTUMN

15. Sep 8–22

16. Sep 23–Oct 7

17. Oct 8–22

18. Oct 23–Nov 6

19. Nov 7–21

WINTER

20. Nov 22–Dec 6

21. Dec 7–21

22. Dec 22–Jan 4

23. Jan 5–19

24. Jan 20–Feb 3

read more about this practice

my hope during this practice

To slow down. Be present. Learn new things. Make poetic notes about it all. Get better at clocking the tiny shifts in this complex ecosystem (I’m in central Minnesota near a marsh).

I’ve always had a deep desire for a more comprehensive understanding of what’s happening around me in the natural world.

I’m also looking forward to researching and learning about the things I don’t know about, everything from plants and birds to medicinal uses for things and subtle shifts or patterns.

what are sekki and kō?

As I outlined in my last letter, the Japanese micro-season tradition, or “small season” movement, caught my attention in a big way.

Four seasons are buckets far too broad to really track what’s going on.

Instead, the micro-season practice divides the year into 24 sekki (roughly 2 weeks each), with each of those nesting 3 kō (5 days each).

The sekki are given names based on what is happening at the time. “The time of…” and kō, essentially, are poetic snippets of what you see.

Subscribe now

Share

We’re wrapping up sekki two. Join me for sekki three by adding what you notice to the comments.

I’m so comforted to be smack in the middle of a sekki that holds so much new life, especially as I hold the grief of saying goodbye to two of our sweetest chickens.

They passed ten days apart, and both were sudden.

If you love a thing, it’s never easy.

Donna Summer (the white one) and Rocky led the pack. They were full of sass and snuggles. As someone who lives for a good animal snuggle, I soaked it up.

They share a resting place overlooking the marsh.

I imagine they’re spreading joy wherever they are…

Miss you both, xo

Sekki Two: The Time of Budding (April 5th-19th)

It seems obvious, I suppose, but the name I offer up for this micro-season is:

The Time of Budding

In my corner of the world (near Minneapolis, MN), noticing things during this period feels like drinking from a firehose.

Everything is changing.

It’s so exciting, and perhaps a little overwhelming to track. But I’ll share some of my favorites from the second sekki here.

snippets from the second sekki

I’m including some images of what I noticed during this first sekki:

I noticed:

• Silver maples dropped their red buds, covering the ground like an overnight carpet

• Chipmunks emerged from hibernation (photo 5)

• First dandelion (photo 1)

• Purple hyacinth emerging (photo 8)

• Goldfinches, cardinals, sparrows and others singing big spring songs (photo 2)

• Box elder blooms drooping like a gorgeous natural arrangement (photo 6)

• Squirrels look silly in their splotchy half-shed coats

• The marsh is busting with song from blackbirds to frogs, it’s a symphony

• Daffodils bloomed their happy, yellow flowers smiling at the sun (photo 4)

• A first cloud of gnats

• Cottonwoods began dropping their bud clumps…everywhere

• Same for birch and others…buds and seed clumps falling

• My first bat sighting!

• Mallards return to the yard, scouting for mates and snacks

• Lilac buds turn green and begin to leaf out

• Squills—both deep purple and striped—fill gardens (photo 9)

• Our first 75+ degree day

• Whistling of mallard wings as they fly low

• Sandhill cranes shout and holler

• First wasp looking for a building site

• Tiny purple Creeping Charlie blooms

• Dragonflies darting around after the dozens of small bugs emerging

• Ant emergence on a sidewalk (photo 3)

• Beautiful white Magnolia flowers in bloom (photo 7)

🌷What have you noticed? Please share in the comments xo

what now?

I hope you’ll join me.

how?

However, you’d like—journal practice, photo practice, field notes—but I’d love it if you shared along with me in the comments. Once I publish a sekki or kō letter, add a link or an observation that struck you from that same microseason in your neighborhood.

Maybe, if we complete a whole cycle, there will be a living artifact of presence and noticing right here to return to.

That’d be very cool.

orientation

April 4th is the end of the first sekki, if you’re using the vernal equinox as a starting point, like me. (The Japanese tradition—where sekki and kō originate—starts in early February).

But you can start whenever you want.

xo,

Natalie

FULL CALENDAR

THE 24 SEKKI

(There are 3 kō—or micro seasons of change—within each sekki)

SPRING

1. Feb 4–18

2. Feb 19–Mar 5

3. Mar 6–20

4. One: The Time of Sun and Snow, Mar 21–Apr 4

5. Two: The Time of Budding, Apr 5–19

6. Apr 20–May 4, ← we’re here as of this writing, but you can hop in anytime

7. May 5–20

8. May 21–Jun 5

9. Jun 6–20

SUMMER

10. Jun 21–Jul 6

11. Jul 7–22

12. Jul 23–Aug 7

13. Aug 8–22

14. Aug 23–Sep 7

AUTUMN

15. Sep 8–22

16. Sep 23–Oct 7

17. Oct 8–22

18. Oct 23–Nov 6

19. Nov 7–21

WINTER

20. Nov 22–Dec 6

21. Dec 7–21

22. Dec 22–Jan 4

23. Jan 5–19

24. Jan 20–Feb 3

read more about this practice

my hope during this practice

To slow down. Be present. Learn new things. Make poetic notes about it all. Get better at clocking the tiny shifts in this complex ecosystem (I’m in central Minnesota near a marsh).

I’ve always had a deep desire for a more comprehensive understanding of what’s happening around me in the natural world.

I’m also looking forward to researching and learning about the things I don’t know about, everything from plants and birds to medicinal uses for things and subtle shifts or patterns.

what are sekki and kō?

As I outlined in my last letter, the Japanese micro-season tradition, or “small season” movement, caught my attention in a big way.

Four seasons are buckets far too broad to really track what’s going on.

Instead, the micro-season practice divides the year into 24 sekki (roughly 2 weeks each), with each of those nesting 3 kō (5 days each).

The sekki are given names based on what is happening at the time. “The time of…” and kō, essentially, are poetic snippets of what you see.

Subscribe now

Share

I’ve landed on what I consider an apt name to wrap up this first sekki:

The Time of Sun and Snow

In central Minnesota, the end of March is a weather rollercoaster. Hot, cold, warm-ish. It’s imperative to make available winter coats, alongside raincoats, sweatshirts, flip flops, rubber boots, tank tops, and wool hats.

snippets from the kō

In future sekki summary posts, I plan on sharing little bits from each kō as well.

(There are 3 kō—or micro seasons of change—within each of the 24 sekki)

Field notes, of a sort.

I’m jotting things in my journal after my daily walks around, and taking my phone along, too.

Since this is my first attempt at this archive/collection, I think I’ll start by including some images of what I noticed during this first sekki:

I noticed:

• the temperature swing wildly from snowfall to tank tops

• buds: pussy willow, silver maple, honeysuckle, mostly

• bulbs: crocus, tuplip and daffodil greens

• flaming pink rhubarb tips breaking the soil, followed by brain-like early yellow leaf clusters

• turkeys struttin’ for a mate

• nuthatches chasing each other through the yard

• large groups of starlings and dark-eyed juncos

• bald eagle mating dive and spin (this was my first time and it was breathtaking and utterly spectacular)

• squirrels losing their winter coats

• tiny flies buzzing around

• crows talking up a storm

• raccoons reemerging from hibernation at night

• red-winged blackbird males trilling in the marsh

• garter snakes emerging to sun themselves

• boxelders clusters seeking warmth

• rabbits running wild again

• motherwort, chives, and mullen bursting through soggy soil

• sandhill cranes returning following Canadian geese

• rain

my hope during this practice

To slow down. Be present. Learn new things. Make poetic notes about it all. Get better at clocking the tiny shifts in this complex ecosystem (I’m in central Minnesota near a marsh).

I’ve always had a deep desire for a more comprehensive understanding of what’s happening around me in the natural world.

I’m also looking forward to researching and learning about the things I don’t know about, everything from plants and birds to medicinal uses for things and subtle shifts or patterns.

what are sekki and kō?

As I outlined in my last letter, the Japanese micro-season tradition, or “small season” movement, caught my attention in a big way.

Four seasons are buckets far too broad to really track what’s going on.

Instead, the micro-season practice divides the year into 24 sekki (roughly 2 weeks each), with each of those nesting 3 kō (5 days each).

The sekki are given names based on what is happening at the time. “The time of…” and kō, essentially, are poetic snippets of what you see.

Sparrows start to build and nest.

Eagles dive, spin, and fall from the sky.

This letter is an example of how I’ll try to summarize each sekki. I plan to be a bit more poetic with my 5-day kō segments, too.

what now?

I hope you’ll join me.

why?

I love learning, and if you do, too, this should be fun and relaxing all at the same time.

Plus, I really want to see what you come up with in your corner of the world.

orientation

April 4th is the end of the first sekki, if you’re using the vernal equinox as a starting point, like me. (The Japanese tradition—where sekki and kō originate—starts in early February).

But you can start whenever you want.

how?

However, you’d like—journal practice, photo practice, field notes—but I’d love it if you shared along with me in the comments. Once I publish a sekki or kō letter, add a link or an observation that struck you from that same microseason in your neighborhood.

Maybe, if we complete a whole cycle, there will be a living artifact of presence and noticing right here to return to.

That’d be very cool.

xo,

Natalie

FULL CALENDAR

THE 24 SEKKI

(There are 3 kō—or micro seasons of change—within each sekki)

SPRING

1. Feb 4–18

2. Feb 19–Mar 5

3. Mar 6–20

4. The Time of Sun and Snow, Mar 21–Apr 4 ← we’re here as of this writing, but you can hop in anytime

5. Apr 5–19

6. Apr 20–May 4

SUMMER

7. May 5–20

8. May 21–Jun 5

9. Jun 6–20

10. Jun 21–Jul 6

11. Jul 7–22

12. Jul 23–Aug 7

AUTUMN

13. Aug 8–22

14. Aug 23–Sep 7

15. Sep 8–22

16. Sep 23–Oct 7

17. Oct 8–22

18. Oct 23–Nov 6

WINTER

19. Nov 7–21

20. Nov 22–Dec 6

21. Dec 7–21

22. Dec 22–Jan 4

23. Jan 5–19

24. Jan 20–Feb 3

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FULL CALENDAR

I’ll be updating this space with my own titles for each sekki as I come up with them. I may even delineate the kō depending on the flow of things.

THE 24 SEKKI

(There are 3 kō—or micro seasons of change—within each sekki)

SPRING

1. Feb 4–18

2. Feb 19–Mar 5

3. Mar 6–20

4. One: The Time of Sun and Snow, Mar 21–Apr 4

5. Apr 5–19

6. Apr 20–May 4

7. May 5–20

8. May 21–Jun 5

9. Jun 6–20

SUMMER

10. Jun 21–Jul 6

11. Jul 7–22

12. Jul 23–Aug 7

13. Aug 8–22

14. Aug 23–Sep 7

AUTUMN

15. Sep 8–22

16. Sep 23–Oct 7

17. Oct 8–22

18. Oct 23–Nov 6

19. Nov 7–21

WINTER

20. Nov 22–Dec 6

21. Dec 7–21

22. Dec 22–Jan 4

23. Jan 5–19

24. Jan 20–Feb 3

As I write this, we’re sitting on the (backend) cusp of the beginning of the true New Year, at least for me. The equinox sets everything on fire here in the north. A perfect time to start something like this…

I’m really interested in learning more about my own microseasons here in Minnesota and the thousands of processes happening right in my backyard and neighborhood.

I want to be able to name more plants and birds just by their call. To understand my own ecosystem better, ultimately so I am a better steward while I’m here.

I’m also insatiably curious by nature.

If this sounds cool to you, or like you, I’d like to invite you to join me. It’ll be really cool to grow this unofficial field guide of places near and far.

A couple of years ago, I sat in a room with Mary Jo Hoffman as she shared her book Still: The Art of Noticing.

She introduced me to something that’s rearranged how I see time ever since: the tradition of micro-seasons.

A quick summary

If you read my last letter, this will be a review.

In the Japanese system, the year isn’t four seasons, but 24 sekki, each about two weeks long, divided into 72 kō of five days each. Every kō has a name drawn from what’s actually happening in the natural world.

The east wind melts the ice.

Sparrows start to nest.

Waxwings get drunk on fermented crabapples.

It’s not the only tradition like this. The White Earth Ojibwe divided the year into smaller cycles tuned to the land they’d watched for generations. So did others.

The point isn’t the particular system, it’s that folks before our weird Gregorian calendar decided (correctly, imo) spring was too big a word for what was actually happening outside.

Mary Jo created her own version for the upper Midwest—24 sekki with names like “Time of Sap” and “Time of Tall Grasses.” We’re currently in the Time of Sap (March 21–April 4).

Here’s what I want to do

For the next year, I’m going to (try my best to) follow the 24 sekki by writing a short piece every couple of weeks (roughly a sekki) about what I’m noticing around my yard and neighborhood here in Minnesota.

I’ll also include some kō notes every five days, too.

This might look scattered or feel more cohesive, but it doesn’t really matter. I’m planning to gather notes and observations, and photos, when possible. I’m planning to learn more. The birds, the bugs, the weeds, the light.

I’m not doing this as an expert at all. But as a student and witness. In honor of the power of true presence, I’d like to think.

Here’s my invitation

Come with me! You don’t have to be at 45° north. You don’t have to be in the Midwest. That’s the whole point: we’re writing a field guide together, from different latitudes, anywhere.

Your “Time of Sap” might look nothing like mine and have a totally different name (as it should). That’s what makes this interesting.

The basics

As each sekki comes to a close, I’ll share what I’m seeing in a letter/post here on The Sacred Path.

In the comments of each of my posts, tell me what you’re seeing. Where you are. What’s waking up or happening.

A photo, a sentence, a name you looked up or invented. If you’re writing about it elsewhere, drop a link.

Why this

Because I believe presence is the rebellion. Because the world wants us scrolling and anxious, not just disconnected from each other, but from the Earth that holds us.

Because the antidote to overwhelm isn’t more information, it’s real attention.

the calendar

Bookmark this page if you’d like to reference the sekki calendar. You can jump in and out whenever you have inspiration or capacity.

Note: Traditionally, the Japanese started their year of this process on February 4th, but I’m using the vernal equinox (March 21, roughly) as the start date for this project.

THE 24 SEKKI

(There are 3 kō—or micro seasons of change—within each sekki)

SPRING

1. Feb 4–18

2. Feb 19–Mar 5

3. Mar 6–20

4. One: The Time of Sun and Snow, Mar 21–Apr 4

5. Two: The Time of Budding, Apr 5–19

6. Apr 20–May 4, ← we’re here as of this writing, but you can hop in anytime

7. May 5–20

8. May 21–Jun 5

9. Jun 6–20

SUMMER

10. Jun 21–Jul 6

11. Jul 7–22

12. Jul 23–Aug 7

13. Aug 8–22

14. Aug 23–Sep 7

AUTUMN

15. Sep 8–22

16. Sep 23–Oct 7

17. Oct 8–22

18. Oct 23–Nov 6

19. Nov 7–21

WINTER

20. Nov 22–Dec 6

21. Dec 7–21

22. Dec 22–Jan 4

23. Jan 5–19

24. Jan 20–Feb 3

Can’t wait to see what you see.

xo,

Natalie

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This letter is about cultivating wonder, 10 big signs of spring here in the Midwest, and an ancient East Asian way of looking at the seasons that I’m obsessed with.

Happy spring & pink full moon.

Today, I received a delightful comment on IG in response to a reel I made. This reel points out the first big green bud I’ve seen in the yard so far this year.

Needless to say, it feels like a high compliment.

And accurate.

For me, the languid stretch from the spring equinox to the first of April feels like a slow emergence. My energy awakens in tandem with the first tiny green shoots chasing the sun, some even breaking through a thin layer of ice.

It’s the real New Year, in my opinion.

And the very, very best time to notice things.

Today’s letter is a tiny guide to noticing for those of us in the Upper Midwest—Minneapolis, Saint Paul, and the surrounding lakes and corridors—though if you live near the 44th to 46th parallel (Portland, Oregon; Madison, Wisconsin; or Montreal), much of this applies to you, too.

A different way to notice

It was not long ago that I learned about the ancient East Asian approach to observing the Earth’s natural patterns much more intricately than seasons or even months. Adapted from China, the 17th-century Japanese system divides the year not into four seasons but into 72 kō, microseasons of roughly five days each, nested inside 24 larger sekki divisions.

Each microseason bears a name rooted in direct natural observation:

“The spring breeze melts the ice.

The bush warbler sings for the first time.

Insects emerge from the earth.”

It’s like field notes meet a poet’s heart.

I was instantly drawn in.

I’ve found it so engaging to pay closer attention to the shifts that occur in tiny windows of time rather than large, gaping seasons.

Mostly, this practice has shown me how much more is really happening out there. It invites me to keep my eyes and ears open for even the tiniest shifts.

Now that April has arrived, I think the most dynamic shifts are arriving with it. The cool thing is that these micro shifts happen all year, but you can really tune in, stepping from the cold winter into a fresh spring.

The invitation for you is to do the same.

Borrow the practice: notice the world in five-day increments. Give each shift a name.

Here, then, are some things I’ve noticed lately around here.

1. Red-winged blackbirds return

Often in late February or early March, before the ice is gone from the lakes. The males come first, staking out marsh territory with that unmistakable—and holy gods—shrill call. Their arrival feels almost aggressive in its optimism, but I still feed them.

2. Silver maple blooms

The silver maple (Acer saccharinum) blooms before it leafs out, sometimes in late February. Look up at the branch tips on a clear, cold day, and you’ll see a reddish haze. Tiny flowers, not yet leaves. This is one of the first native trees to bloom in our region.

3. The maples start running

On days that rise above freezing and nights that fall below it, the sap begins to move. You won’t see it unless someone has tapped a tree, but it is happening everywhere.

4. Mourning cloak butterflies emerge

One of the few butterflies that overwinters as an adult, the mourning cloak (Nymphalis antiopa) appears on warm late-winter days. Sometimes March, sometimes late February. They look tattered, dark maroon with pale edges, and they feed on tree sap from fresh wounds in the bark. Seeing one on a 45-degree day feels like encountering something impossible.

5. American robins reappear in flocks

Robins don’t always fully migrate. Some overwinter in Minnesota’s wooded areas. But the large flocks that signal true seasonal return appear in early spring, often before the ground is soft enough to pull worms.

6. Wood frogs call

If you live near wetlands like I do, or walk near them, listen in late March for a sound like a flock of ducks in the distance. Quacking, almost.

Scoot to the end of this short vid to hear them.

Wood frogs (Lithobates sylvaticus) are among the first amphibians to call, typically in shallow woodland pools still partly rimmed with ice. The chorus lasts only a week or two.

7. Pussy willows open

The soft silver catkins of willow (Salix discolor) are among the most tactile early spring signs. Velvety, almost warm to the touch. They emerge on shrubby willows along creek edges and pond margins, sometimes in early March.

8. Skunk cabbage pushes through

This is one I’m still searching for! In low, wet woods and seepy areas, Symplocarpus foetidus generates its own heat, melting the snow around it (so cool). Mottled and purple-green, it emerges before anything else in the wetlands. It smells, as the name suggests, distinctly of skunk.

9. Hepatica blooms

One of the first native wildflowers to bloom in Minnesota’s woodlands, hepatica (Hepatica nobilis var. acuta) appears in April on undisturbed forest floors. Lavender, white, or pink, depending on the patch. It rises through the leaf litter before the tree canopy leafs out, catching the brief window of full sun in the forest.

10. Sandhill cranes return

I love these guys. You hear them before you see them. They have a rolling, prehistoric call that carries far. Sandhill cranes circle back into Minnesota in early spring. They’re goofy and gorgeous all at once, imo.

The practice underneath the practice

I’m pretty sure that what the Japanese microseason system asks of us isn’t botanical expertise.

It asks for presence.

The willingness to check in with the living world every few days and ask: what has changed? What arrived while I was busy? What is making its first appearance this year?

This is, at its core, a wonder practice.

There was an IG reel I saw recently that says it all:

“Maybe the amount of extraordinary things that happen in your life depends on what you notice.”

Presence is the rebellion,

Natalie

🌿 What signs of spring are you noticing where you are? I’d love to hear them.

Just in time for spring!

Today’s reading is meant to shine a little light and sunshine into your life. Perhaps it’ll help illuminate a shadow or light a path forward.

xo,

Natalie

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The cards

Today’s reading

I’ve called in the animals to offer up an energy theme for the beginning of spring, as well as a guiding message to keep in mind.

Breathe, listen, then choose a pile. No need to rush.

The crystals & stones:

1- Orange Calcite: creativity, helps with low energy✨sacral chakra

2-Rose Quartz: heart opening, soothing, fosters empathy & forgiveness✨heart chakra

3- Serpentine: helps to clear blocked or stagnant energies✨all chakras

Hold up!

Choose a card from the photo above before scrolling down.

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One

The Lion and the King of Wands

Big energy for this group.

What is the message?

You have absolutely everything you need. If you’re waiting for something to happen or feel like you need certain things to be a certain way to proceed, no need. You’re supported by the energy of courage and the people who love you.

The King of Wands, like the Lion, is a leader. He is passionate, intense, and full of big ideas. This might be you, too. But be aware—because of the reversed position—of being too impulsive or hasty at this time.

You have what you need.

Like the Lion, spend an afternoon seeking what you want, either in meditation or journaling. Don’t dawdle too much, but be measured in your progress and next steps to avoid the mess that hasty behavior can bring.

Patience is key.

This is an exciting Spring for you, dear reader. Decide what you need to bring forth in your life and go for it.

Two

The Swan and the Eight of Wands

You are moving into a space of clarity this Spring…a gift! Clarity is at the root of forward movement.

Listen for folks around you with the Swan’s wisdom and light. They might be a friend, a person you like on a podcast, or the author of a random article you come across.

Try, like the Swan, to glide through the waters of your life as Spring begins.

What does this mean?

Take in your surroundings. Listen carefully. No need to race ahead or churn up murky water or dive deep emotionally. Enjoy the simple beauty and wisdom on the surface of your life. The sunset. The food you eat. The flowers breaking new ground.

The Swan glides between the shadow of the deep water and the light of the sun. Try to do the same and seek balance in your life where you think you need it.

Embracing the Swan’s energy will guide you to new insights, as well as temper the forward movement and fire of the Eight of Wands.

You’re heading for change and growth and insight—and rather soon.

For now, keep your heart and eyes open. Take it all in. Where you’re heading will be revealed at the perfect time.

Three

The Dolphin and Strength

The season has arrived for you to play. Enjoy it all.

If you’re in a darker time, what does that look like?

Nature is here to support you now, and always. But the energy of spring and new growth brings with it the ability to nurture you, too. There is SO much energy coming forth at this time, and it’s here to help move you along.

It’s also available to help you heal, if healing is needed. The forward-moving and creative power of Spring is hard to comprehend, and it is here to help you enjoy your life.

Better things are ahead.

The Strength card reminds you that you are strong, but also that your compassion and influence can benefit others.

Remember, sometimes our deepest pleasure—the enjoyment the Dolphin brings—is found in being of service to others.

Be light about things this season.

Allow the energy of new life and growth to guide you, hold you, and move you down your path. Take walks. Smell flowers. Call friends.

Enjoy what is coming, and what is already yours.

Links to decks:

The Cards:

• Spirit of the Animals Oracle

• The Fountain Tarot:

https://www.fountaintarot.com/

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

it is never easy
standing noble
a short distance 
of eminence

The final day of 100. Wow.

What did I learn?

What was good? Bad? Annoying?

Years ago, I had a photography podcast I published for over six years without missing a week.

Right now, I have not missed a week of publishing here on The Sacred Path since 2020.

As of this writing, I have a 2185-day streak on Duolingo.

I am currently writing my first novel, and the wall of resistance is real, but I keep the goal in focus, knowing it is important to me, even on days when it doesn’t sparkle.

Consistency is a skill I’ve gotten really, really good at.

I’m not telling you this to brag.

I’m genuinely fascinated by consistency.

Here’s the main reason I think it’s important to cultivate consistency, or at least why it’s super helpful:

You don’t have to go back and relearn what you started when the impulse circles back around.

What do I mean by that?

We are humans, and we move through cycles of extreme inspiration and motivation, which inevitably fade as we discover new things or rekindle old interests.

In my experience, most of the things we get really jazzed about come back around.

What, in the past, have you felt really pumped about?

Have you ever been re-motivated to finish something you started two months or two years ago?

Maybe you got in great shape, then stopped, then had to start all over again. Or maybe you decided to learn guitar, and really made progress, but now you have to reform your finger calluses and relearn every single song you used to be able to play. (Echoes of my own experiences.)

My point is that consistency doesn’t always feel like fireworks. But it does one thing really well: you get better at the thing you want to get better at without having to go back and relearn things because you stopped.

That’s the heart of it.

But it’s also an empty skill if your reasons aren’t important to you.

Which is interesting because it seems to be one that the world craves.

There are a bajillion workout, writing, crafting, or habit-changing challenges out there to join. There are so many courses that it’s hard to decide on what you really want to learn.

Yet, most of the time, they are abandoned.

And that’s okay.

I wonder if we like the idea of the thing, but avoid looking at how it fits into our lives. Like really. Not just an item on a calendar or to-do list, but the very real wrestling with feelings, stagnation, and the most formidable: resistance.

For me, with this challenge, I wanted to strengthen my channel with Oon. That reason fueled my consistency on many days because it was important to me.

Weirdly, I stopped caring as much about it as the challenge rolled on. Again, the cycle of interests.

It is strange because the channel became easier to access and, in many ways, clearer, but my need to feel that strength of connection decreased.

I learned that it just is, and doesn’t have to be anything more than that.

As beautiful as Maria Popova’s deck is, the redundancy in the messages began to feel dull, even if the answers were coming from the ether.

So, what did I learn?

and I had a chat early on in this challenge about something I think is worth mentioning: there is a big difference between committing to write every day and writing daily plus publishing, too.

We inadvertently smashed two very different practices together into one challenge, and I could feel them tugging at me some days.

Just showing up to write is one thing. Sharing publicly is another.

I’ve learned that the habit of consistency can get you through really hard things. That weird hump of learning something that takes time and regularity to excel.

But you have to be clear about why you’re doing the thing. Is it for the consistency muscle only? For a result you really desire? Or something else?

What’s really interesting about consistency is that it ultimately pulls you out of a valley back up to the peak. Things get sluggish and frustrating, but they can’t stay there.

They will feel exciting again.

I admit I’m kind of rambling here. This isn’t a terribly coherent assessment of the thing, more like external processing without an aim.

My point?

I absolutely think consistency has value as a muscle. You can apply it to anything you’d like to get better at, and you will get better. Period.

But recognize in the swirl of the initial excitement that you will, without a doubt, hit a wall.

Be ready for it at the onset. Maybe even have a plan for what you will do when the thing you said you would do is the last thing in the world you want to do.

The other side of that wall might not answer all of your prayers, but it will teach you about yourself, and in my experience, make your next commitment that much easier.

So, what is one thing you’ve always said you’d love to know how to do?

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

enter your sadness
with open eyes
curious and intrepid
knowing it has a purpose

remove the partition
between it and the beautiful
and mingle its darkness
with the light of time
until your heart
is enlarged into
a great globe of being
that cannot but glow

from Oon

The simple lesson here is to remember that the darkness is rife with beauty, too. Do not fear the shadows and the monsters within.

They are born of their own beauty, the beauty that lives in shape and form and emotion, and all of the ethereal experiences light rarely plays with for long.

Invite the light to shine into your corners and caverns of grief, ask it what it can show you, or perhaps, what you are avoiding a closer look at.

It will not let you down or lead you astray, for the light is truth.

If you allow it to show you what is hiding within, you may begin to nurture a new relationship with yourself. From there, watch as all flourishes.

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

when the repeated blows
of disappointment
leave you flattened
to the ground of being
drink with perseverance
from the river of time
for the dew of each
beginning day
may become water
in the stream proceeding
to a different end

from Oon

The grand fallacy in the world, you see, especially items from the establishment, such as media or photography, is that no one is without suffering. Many of you seem to have grasped that the achievement of your own yearning did not come without struggle.

It is in continuing forward that you get closer to your aim.

Trying, learning, and trying again.

What may feel like failure followed by failure in your mind is simply an experience you are being invited to learn from and cultivate anew. For another, their stumbling block is different, something you have perhaps mastered, and thus, their lesson different.

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

a situation may 
appear firmly fixed
by the contour
of circumstances
and yet with
delicate and sober
attention to the
colouring of cause
the whole shape
of existence itself
may change

from Oon

We have talked often of perspective and the power it holds. To be clear, perspective is everything.

In its gentle shift, you alter an entire universe of experience.

The way you choose to see the world or a select circumstance will guide your experience, and therefore, your reaction and further rumination.

It is imperative that you grasp the power of your own mind to alter your daily interactions, given or processed through receiving.

If you are standing in the dark, do not lament the lack of light. Instead, ask yourself: what is there for me here to understand?

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

our range of being
is only limited
by the ending
we expect of situations
for life is animated
by the unexpected
that chooses
the extremities
we have to live
rejecting which
is rejecting life
and respecting which
is respecting
the unexpected
strength in us

from Oon

Consider that your life is a gift of chance, that knowing what will occur around the next bend in the forest is not for your greatest good but might rather distance you from grand experiences rooted in what you cannot yet fathom.

It is often in the unknowing where we are called to dig deeper into the reserves of knowledge and strength, a kind of problem-solving that nurtures profound growth.

It is wise to understand that you cannot predict the end, nor would you want to.

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

suppose that change
flowers from suffering
met with light
from searching downwards
for the small black seeds
of which grows
the bloom of a beginning

from Oon

While change is often incited by a need to reduce pain or improve circumstances, it will serve you if the intention is sound.

Change covers the earth in many forms, some damaging, others productive.

Do not hesitate to evaluate the flavor and intention rooted in your change. It may be a helpful compass to reflect on grander attempts through the lens of “for the good of all” and explore what arises.

Because change is the only true constant, it is imperative to evaluate it with care.

You can depend on change as you may depend on a sunset. Wield it with care and love.

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

any circumstance
trifling or harsh
attended with care
and a curious tone of thought
may change the cry of being
to a song

from Oon

All experiences are reduced to one thing: perception.

It is the diversity of perception that causes harmony and chaos in this world. Learning and hate. Compassion and understanding.

Empathy.

It is impossible to know another’s world completely, no matter how intricately your roots are entwined.

The best practice and tool at your disposal is one that makes room for patience and love where difference and misunderstanding thrive.

Remembering who you are and that your viewpoint is as fallible as any is the doorway to humility, and ultimately, peace.

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

to be worthy of magic
abandon pressure and clinging
abandon judgment and doubt
do not pretend knowing
the reason or the purpose
do not remain
attached to a result
or project a convenient
ending to the unknown

only pure experience
tender with sharp
discomfort of time
can open the aperture
of the possible 
wide enough
to bathe in astonishment

from Oon

If you are always hoping for a specific outcome, the world will push winds and rain your way. It is a demonstration, a reminder to allow these things to move through your experience and not unmoor your vision.

Cast your gaze far, but do not lament a foggy day.

There is as much to be gained in achieving your aim as there is in being forced to attempt a different route to get there.

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

love is an experiment
troughing with doubt
to live without regret
follow its flow
beyond the narrow
stream of certainty
riding its ever-rolling billows
until all the wounded
water in you
is burning
burning
with the deep blue
fire of living
until you become
an ocean of light
and lie down on the sand
of the shore of you
in perfect peace

from Oon

The actions that will gift you the most pride and satisfaction in this existence are born from deeply rooted effort.

When challenged to examine what you are most proud of, it is highly likely that such things were not easily undertaken.

Work and effort produce a vein of energy that does not allow for regret, if aligned.

All that is good is not hard to access, but it is important that your energy is aligned to allow flow.

From this place, regret no longer lingers, and the richness of this life's experiences expands.

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

never regret having loved
and never give up
on a beloved friend
who seems to stop caring
for where there has been
deep and noble emotion
there is ever renewing
energy for the deepest living
and where there has been love
there will always be grace
and there is no wasted experience
if you find the courage
to suffer and to be amazed

from Oon

Indeed, there is no wasted experience. None.

Do not despair in the shadow of poor judgment or action, for in its wake the opportunity for growth abides.

If all first aims hit their mark, the world would have no purpose, for contrast would cease to exist.

Contrast is a valuable teacher and a necessary one.

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today’s prompt from maria popova:

a true friend
is a bright sun
for the arctic haunts 
of our being
daylight for the
deeply shadowed
regions in us
yet it is only when
we feed the light within
that we may make
a true friend

from Oon

What you seek you shall first discover within.

There is tremendous resistance from many when they hear this.

But others offer mirrors, not putty to patch holes.

You must first be capable of shining a light of truth into your darkest caverns, your most hidden secrets.

It is only in understanding how the mechanics of this process work that you might recognize when it is being offered from another.

It’s a practice.

It is forgiveness and grace.

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