This is a picture of my house. I love my house. I like to think of it as “The House That Tarot Built,” but that’s not really true; it’s more a case of “the house that 20 years of equity in other houses built,” but that’s not the point.
The point is, when I moved into this house almost 6 years ago, it was a statement of becoming more visible, of having a larger presence in my community, of being willing to say, “I’m here, I ‘m a Tarot reader, we all need to get used to it.”
Most of the readings that I do and the classes I teach happen here at this house. Currently there’s a “Tarot Reader’s Practice Group” convening here on Thursday evenings, a group which is often divided up into pairs to work on specific methods or layouts, or to practice an exercise that has been set forth for them to test drive.
To keep the “teacher vibe” out of the room, I often go upstairs and sit at the computer for a moment or just putter around up there , giving the students some physical and energetic space in which to practice their skills. From that perch I can hear the hum of conversation and the buzz of their attention as they work on their assignment.
What a pleasure it is to listen as that and the occasional uproarious laughter fills the rooms. It makes me and the house feel all warm and happy, even when at the end of the evening they each get into their cars and drive off to their respective homes. This house is more than a home, it’s a classroom, a gathering place, a place for learning and sharing.
We Mainers had a very warm spell back in March, as did many folks around the country. During the middle of that month, in the early part of the mornings, I would hear a rhythmic and persistent pecking on the second-story west-facing side of the house. Looking out I could see that it was chickadees who were making the ruckus. Since the house is sided in shingles, I figured the birds were seeking out a breakfast of bugs or small insects of some sort.
My granddaughter and I would watch them flit around the window as they regularly and earnestly returned to that specific part of the house’s exterior. “The eating must be pretty good here at Jeanne’s Bug Café,” I’d say to Vera.
This activity went on for about a month, until this week when it stopped. Suddenly my morning wasn’t being punctuated by the rapping on the side wall as I’d become so accustomed to hearing. So I wrenched myself out from the bathroom window and peered back around to see what there was to see, to understand why the pecking had stopped, to learn what all the fuss had been about.
As you can see, the birds weren’t into breakfast, but had in mind something of a much greater design.
Looks like I’m going to be a grammie again! And now there will be two families living under this one roof.
My older brother would have a fit about this, sure to tell me all about how detrimental such a thing is the to integrity of the house construction. He’s probably right, but I’ll let the chickadees have their babies and then clear up the space once they’ve left. I’m happy to share the warmth and comfort of my home and am honored that they chose the South Portland Tarot Palace as the place to introduce their little ones to this world.
Addendum: This from a reliable source: Incubation lasts 12-13 days. It usually begins the day before the female lays the last egg, so that all eggs will hatch within 24 hours of each other. I’ll keep you posted.
jeannefiorini 