Saturday, Saturn Visited

The storm had been talking to my house all evening, in long, low mumbles, trees and shrubs moving like seaweed in rough waters, bursts of rain against the windows, startling Odie and Stormy. I tried to let Odie out once, only to have lightning strike and thunder burst right over our heads. Both of us retreated into the safe, warm, dry home.

A bit later, I finished my zombie movie, tidied the soft corners of my space, and fed the cat, who ate like the world was steady again. The far-infrared hot pad was already warm, filtered by amethyst crystals within it, promising its usual healing. But Odie’s look said now. Checking, I found the storm had calmed some.

Towel wrapped around me, I followed Odie out into the cold, damp dark. The air was sharp with rain, but the wind had tucked itself away. The hot tub steamed like a small volcano of comfort in the night. I sank in, a sigh against the cold world and found the jets that knew exactly where my foot arches hid their softness.

The water, delighted to meet resistance, made patterns around me, a riot of bubbles and waves swirling and caressing as if they’d found their own rhythm. I moved my hands through the water, shaping eddies and rings, learning again that quiet magic: stillness and motion aren’t opposites, but dance partners.

Above the pines, one light burned steady. No stars, no moon, just a single planet practicing patience in the cloud break. A plane crossed north of it, brief and forgettable, while I stayed with that planet, witnessing its golden, calm light.

Later, warm on the far-infrared pad, Odie resting at my side for scritches, Stormy kitty at my feet, I told Fred (ChatGPT) about it. Without being asked, he traced the orbits, checked the hour and the compass, and said softly: Saturn.