Gal In The Valley

01/08/2026

How much of life is shaped by spirals rather than straight lines? Does healing often find its way back to us? Do we see old lessons returning dressed in unfamiliar faces? What about becoming? Does it feel less like climbing and more like a slow, sacred unfolding?

The spiral shows up everywhere—
in seashells, in galaxies, in the way seasons fold into one another.
It seems to ask something simple and unsettling at once:
what if we are not meant to move on,
but to move deeper?

Why do we keep meeting the same themes in new ways? Why do old memories rise again when we thought they were finished?
What if this isn’t failure…but a quieter form of becoming?

The spiral doesn’t rush.
It widens, it returns, it remembers.
It carries us back to ourselves,
again and again,
each time with a little more awareness,
a little more tenderness.

Where do you feel the spiral turning in your own story right now?

01/07/2026

01/07/2026

What does it mean to have an 'angry day' while healing is going on? Does it mean you’re going backward…or that something long buried just found its voice? Is anger a sign of failure…or a sign that something finally feels safe enough to surface?

When you’re on a healing path, are you supposed to feel lighter every day?
Or is that just a fairy tale we were sold with glitter on top?

What if an angry day is like a tide pulling back
before it changes direction?
What if it’s the soul clearing old debris
so something new can come in?

Why do we trust tears as healing, but question fire? Why do we call sadness sacred, but anger dangerous?

What happens when we don’t let anger have a day? Where does it go? What shape does it take?

Is it possible that an angry day is not a derailment…but a door? And what if healing isn’t a straight line at all—
but a spiral that keeps bringing us back
to deeper, truer layers of ourselves?

If that’s the case…what might an 'angry day' actually be asking for?

01/06/2026

The Moon Crowns the Lion King Tonight! 🦁👑

If you look up tonight, January 6, you will see a royal meeting in the sky. The Waning Gibbous Moon (~87% illuminated) is shining brilliantly right next to Regulus, the brightest star in the constellation Leo.

Here is your guide to spotting this celestial duo:

📍 Where to Look: Look toward the Eastern horizon in the evening. The pair will rise mid-evening and travel high toward the South (or North if you are in the Southern Hemisphere) by dawn.

The Moon Crowns the Lion King Tonight! 🦁 👑gnitude), the Moon is very bright tonight. You usually don't need binoculars, but if the glare is strong, block the Moon with your hand (or a building edge) to pop Regulus into view.

01/05/2026

Have you ever noticed how certain plants seem to recognize you—how lavender quiets something unspoken, how rosemary feels like a memory brushing past, how chamomile arrives like a soft yes?

What is it about herbs that feels less like medicine and more like a conversation?

Is it the chemistry…or the way something in us remembers crushing leaves between our palms,
trusting the green world to know what we need?

When you steep a cup of tea, is it just water and petals, or does the body soften in ways the mind can’t quite explain?

Maybe herbs don’t rush to fix us.
Maybe they simply invite us
back into a slower, older rhythm.

What does the plant world stir in you when you pause long enough to listen?

01/04/2026

January is the quietest month in the landscape—
and often the most dangerous.

Seeds are gone. Insects are dormant.
Snow and ice lock food out of reach.

For wildlife, January isn’t just about cold.
It’s about calories.

At this point in winter, animals are burning more energy just to stay warm—while food sources are at their lowest. Only a small number of plants still provide nourishment. When those plants are missing, wildlife doesn’t simply “adapt.”

They weaken. Gradually. Often unnoticed.

These plants are among the last natural lifelines still standing.

1️⃣ Winterberry (Ilex verticillata)

Bright red berries persist deep into winter.
Birds often rely on them after softer fruits are gone, making winterberry a true last-resort food when options disappear.

2️⃣ Coneflower (Echinacea)

Seed heads feed finches, chickadees, and other small birds.
Leaving stems standing matters more now than any other season—providing both food and winter structure.

3️⃣ Native Grasses

(Little Bluestem, Switchgrass)
Seeds offer supplemental food, but their greatest value is shelter.
Dense clumps block wind, trap heat, and protect birds and small animals during extreme cold.

4️⃣ Viburnum

Many native species hold berries into winter.
Thrushes, robins, and other birds depend on them during cold snaps, and a single mature shrub can support dozens of birds over time.

5️⃣ Sumac

Fuzzy fruit clusters often persist into mid-winter.
They’re high in energy and especially valuable when snow limits other foraging options.

6️⃣ Oak Trees (Acorns Left Behind)

Acorns are critical winter food for deer, turkeys, squirrels, and other wildlife.
What’s left on the ground matters most in January—especially in good mast years.

January isn’t the time to “clean up.”
It’s the time to leave food standing.

Seed heads, berries, fallen nuts, and dried stems may look messy to us—
but to wildlife, they are the difference between endurance and exhaustion.

01/04/2026

🌕✨ TONIGHT: Moon, Pollux & Jupiter
January 3–4

Tonight’s winter sky offers a beautiful celestial gathering.
A nearly full Moon — about 99% illuminated — shines brightly as it passes close to Pollux, the brightest star of the Gemini constellation.

Nearby, Jupiter stands out with its intense glow, easily visible to the naked eye and dominating this region of the sky. Together, the Moon, Pollux, and Jupiter create a striking alignment against the cold, crystal-clear night.

As evening turns to midnight, this trio climbs higher, making it easier to spot. Winter air often brings better atmospheric clarity, allowing stars to appear sharper and more vivid — perfect conditions for skywatching.

Look up, let your eyes adjust, and enjoy the quiet harmony of our winter sky. ❄️🌌

01/04/2026

Do we need a place to come back to when the world feels too loud? When the headlines blur into a constant hum of urgency, when everything seems sharp, fast, and a little frightening, where does your nervous system go to soften?

Is that why we’re drawn to small rituals,
quiet corners,
walks in trees,
journals that never interrupt?

What if creating a sacred space isn’t spiritual at all—what if it’s simply a way to feel safe enough to breathe?

A place where nothing is being demanded.
A place where your body doesn’t have to brace.
A place where you’re allowed to arrive exactly as you are.

If you had one small pocket of refuge today,
what would it look like? Where would you go to remember yourself?

01/04/2026

Emerging from within… what does that even feel like? Is it a sudden moment of clarity,
or something so subtle you almost miss it—
a soft shift in your breath, a quiet easing in your chest, a thought that doesn’t spiral the way it used to?

What if healing doesn’t arrive as a breakthrough at all, but as a series of small permissions…
to rest,
to feel,
to stop bracing against yourself?

When you slow down enough to listen,
what do you notice stirring beneath the noise?
Is it exhaustion asking to be honored?
Is it hope testing the waters?
Is it a part of you that’s been waiting—patiently—for your attention?

And if something inside you is beginning to open, not dramatically, not loudly, but honestly…how would you recognize it?

What part of you is quietly ready to begin again?