June 8 dark of the moon
Nothing begins here
Three nights with no moon in them. A reader will tell you this is not a fault in the month but a door propped open — you do not plant, you do not ask, you listen and you write down whatever answers.
LU’S LAIR
Florida · Gulf side · after moonrise
Old work, kept on a young coast.
- Moon
- going, not gone
- Tide
- coming back, as it always does
- Full moon
- close now — and the book opens with it
Tonight, as it stands
the tide comes in scroll
The practice · est. after dark
Nothing here is sold. Everything here is owed.
Moon water, sigils, salted thresholds, three cards face up — made after dark, two blocks from the water.
Lu learned the old work from her grandmother, who learned it from a woman the family stopped naming. She has modernized everything except the respect. The work happens by candlelight and is written down after, because a working you cannot account for is a working that gets away from you. What follows is one moon's worth, kept the way a printmaker keeps editions. The book itself is in the back, where it belongs.
The
YOU DON’T KNOW,
Muffin Man
- Practice
- est. after dark
- Coven
- of one
- Range
- the Gulf side, bridge to bridge
- Medium
- salt, smoke, ink, tide
- Familiar
- a heron who owes her
one moon, dark to dark · what each night is for
The
Almanac
the light climbs
then gives itself back
June 11 new moon
The first yes
One fingernail of light, gone by full dark. The only phase that takes a plain sentence: name the thing while it is still too small to argue with you.
June 13 waxing sliver
Say it to no one
Low in the west for twenty minutes after sunset, and then the Gulf takes it. Old rule, still kept: a thing this new is protected by silence, not by telling.
June 15 waxing crescent
Draw it toward you
The month has decided to keep going. Work that pulls — money, company, safe passage — is set now, while the light is climbing and anything built climbs with it.
June 18 first quarter
The half you have to choose
Half lit, half not, and the reader's word for it is crisis — not disaster, decision. What you started has met the first thing that does not want it.
June 21 waxing gibbous
Trim what you asked for
Nearly full and not yet honest. The adjusting phase: the wish arrives in the shape you actually asked for, so this is the week you correct the wording.
June 26 full moon
Everything, including the rest of it
Jars go out on the seawall, cards come out on the porch, and the light shows you what you have been managing not to see. Charge, scry, harvest — and be warned it does not choose what to reveal.
the porch is open — draw three yourself →June 29 waning gibbous
Give it away
The disseminating moon, the one that teaches. What the full moon showed you is no use held. This is the week for telling the one person it would help.
July 3 last quarter
Break it properly
Half dark, and the crisis has moved inward. Banishing starts here — contracts, habits, the arrangement nobody has defended out loud in a year. Break it while there is light to see by.
July 7 waning crescent
Cut the cord, salt the door
Cleansing work. Cords, thresholds, the names you have stopped answering to. The card everyone fears belongs here, and it has only ever meant the field is being cleared.
July 10 old moon
Go back in the ground
The last curve before nothing. Sleep long, write the dreams down, ask no question you want answered out loud. The seed is under the dirt again and the almanac starts over tomorrow night.
every moon here is a real one · NASA Scientific Visualization Studio · Moon Phase and Libration 2026
Sigil ink · one stroke
Leave
a mark.
Trace one line — any line. The Lair does the rest, the way marks have always worked: you provide the intention, the dark provides the teeth.
your mark becomes stars · refresh and it is gone — nothing drawn at night is kept
