2023  RETROGRADES 
Join­ing her kin in the Sky, as the last greco roman deity to quit pri­meval earth-goddess Ge, was titan­ess of Jus­tice Astraea, who became the last mytho­logical link to Terra Firma, and is now part of a com­posite pan­theon: a grow­ing galaxy of space rocks found to be spin­ning around Sol, pay­ing heed his gravi­tation-throne of Apollo, and related to each other in a hypo­thet­ical heaven.


  2023 Rx

Cradle Court


Astraea retrograde
Slowing down while in tis­sue-thin Can­cer, As­tra­eastar­ry night” (1945) will spend De­cem­ber ex­haust­ed, and when loose lips can sink ships; the vir­gin god­dess is prone to be­ing a born-again en­ab­ler, gal­li­vant­ing out-and-about show­ing off a nic­kel-smooth cape en­crust­ed with iron, and sport­ing magne­sium sili­cates.

Fates retrograde 2023
On tra­jec­tor­ies to per­form retro­grades for 2023, the three Fates will have man­aged the feat of align­ing ±30 and ±60 de­gress apart from one an­other, to per­form an un­com­mon rite which is set to cul­mi­nate as autumn peaks. Klo­thospin­ner” (1868) turns retro­grade, Sep­tem­ber to No­vem­ber, from head-in-cloud Aries back to under-water Pis­ces, per­form­ing merit­less multi-task­ing.
  Lache­sismeas­ur­er” (1872) turns retro­grade while in Aries, from breezy Sep­tem­ber to gusty De­cem­ber, prone to end­less mind games.
  Atro­poscut­ter” (1888) retro­grades in crowd­ed Tau­rus, boun­ti­ful Oc­to­ber to bar­ren De­cem­ber, in an in­de­ci­sive­ness state. The Fates are now aste­roid god­desses, who once en­joyed exis­tence as con­joined sis­ters, pres­ent at every birth, in or­der to take meas­ure then deter­mine the time of death.

Haumea retrograde 2023
Spending half the year in retro­grade, scram­bled Feb­ru­ary to sun­ny-side-up July, Haumea (2004) leaves the den of Scor­pio for the sun-room of Libra. If well-as­pect­ed, secrets don’t spill; if not, the hawai‘ian child­birth god­dess is prob­ably the one to walk away.

Quaoar retrograde 2023
The creation god of the tong­va peo­ple in pres­ent-day Cali­for­nia ratch­ets up a ten­sion-filled year, dur­ing a retro­grade in in­flex­i­ble Cap­ri­corn, from show­ery May to sunny Sep­tem­ber. If well-as­pect­ed, uni-minds en­coun­ter glitches; if not, ir­re­spon­si­bles will twist and shout. Qua­oar (2002) has re­turned as a minor planet, or­bit­ing the Sun some seven tril­lion miles away, wear­ing shiny red rock stick-ons, shiver­ing and under­going radio­active de­cay, cough­ing up car­bon mon­ox­ide and musty ejects of bond­ed nitro­gen and meth­ane.

Sila-Nunam retrograde 2023
Sila breath of life” and Nu­nam “moth­er” hav­ing been mates since for­ever, share now a life as a binary be­ing from the Kui­per Belt, and is set to retro­grade twice, both times in noble Leo. Sila-Nunam (1977) spends gloomy Jan­u­ary to cloudy May stalled over a seem­ing­ly done deal. The sec­ond epi­sode hap­pens dur­ing De­cem­ber, when the in­uit im­mor­tals have to put up with too-many cooks in the kitchen.

Uranus retrograde 2023
The per­son­i­fi­ca­tion of heav­en” will retro­grade twice dur­ing 2023, both times in res­o­lute Tau­rus. The first time had be­gun back in 2022, and will end Jan­u­ary 21. The sec­ond starts on August 29 and goes past the end of the year, as the greco-roman sky god diverts the tra­di­tion­al holi­day sea­son onto an­oth­er path. Be­tween these two retro­grades, Uranussky” (1781) is prob­ably fo­cused on drain­ing the swamp.

     GARDEN    ART
  2023 Rx

Pond of Pontos


Makemake retrograde 2023
This poly­ne­si­an fert­il­i­ty god will retro­grade while in bal­anced Libra, from larva Feb­ru­ary to june-bug June, set­ting up a safe­ty-vs-lib­er­ty con­un­drum. If well-as­pect­ed, Make­make (2005) achieves elo­quence in a de­bate, may­be noth­ing more; if not, the im­mor­tal re­spon­si­ble for mold­ing East­er Is­land and pop­u­lat­ing the ocean again re­lies on text­ing it in, un­der a guise of pas­siv­i­ty, in­side a faint­ly spark­ling char­coal cloak that is big­ger than Plu­to, patchworked with froz­en nitro­gen rings and veined in crim­son-stained meth­ane, where blades of iced eth­ane sprout.

Neptune retrograde 2023
Imagination can run ran­cid when Nep­tune (1846) retro­grades in kitch­en-sink Pis­ces, June 30 to De­cem­ber 5. If well-as­pect­ed, the roman god of the sea hides well be­hind croc­o­dile tears; if not, rip­ples of cruel­ty every­which way he turns. The liq­uid liege had chos­en the date of his re­sur­fac­ing back in­to his­tory by send­ing a dream, in 1846, to a sleep­ing math­e­ma­ti­cian. The woke mor­tal re­turned to the New Ber­lin Ob­ser­va­tory, en­tered a par­tic­u­lar set of co­or­di­nates, then locat­ed the clas­si­cal planet, sit­ting on his tri­dent throne.

Salacia retrograde 2023
The roman god­dess of salt water will spend retro­grade in fin­ger-on-the-trig­ger Aries, ice cream August to hot choc­o­late De­cem­ber, an oc­ca­sion when Sala­cia (2004) pre­sents as both a beau­ty and a beast.

Sedna retrograde 2023
Born on the bot­tom of the Arc­tic Ocean, the pre­mier in­uit sea god­dess gets to retro­grade twice in 2023. First in penned-in Tau­rus, dur­ing Jan­u­ary and Feb­ru­ary. The sec­ond will be in in­con­stant Gem­i­ni, fire­pit Oc­to­ber to bon­fire De­cem­ber, when Sed­na (2003) taints a sea­son for a rea­son with un­spe­ci­fi­able solemn­ity.

Varuna retrograde 2023
The premier hindu marine god is set for two retro­grades, both while in con­fi­dent Leo. The first one, Jan­u­ary to April, spent in a dis­quiet­ing state; the sec­ond, in De­cem­ber, when every­thing grates. Varunadome” (2000) is a com­plex crea­tion of at least five mature civ­il­i­za­tion: com­po­nents, more or less, to moth­er India. Among oth­er of­fices, he “who knows the path­way of the wind” is also the ab­orig­inal vedic sky god, tasked for­ever­more to patrol the cos­mos root­ing out mal­feasance.

     LOVE    CRADLE
  2023 Rx

Garden of Apollon


Bacchus retrograde 2023
From butter­fly May to bee-stung July, Bac­chus (1977) will be in retro­grade, back­slid­ing from bottled-up Capri­corn to un­corked Sagit­tarius. The roman wine god now has a hellenic dou­ble, DIONYSUS (1984), who also has a 2024 retro­grade, coffee March to salad May, exiting cock­tail Libra for vitamin Virgo. These retrogrades happen back-to-back, March through to July, so expect to spend spring play­ing host to the double-asteroid god of the grape.

Ceres retrograde 2023
The roman grain god­dess begins a retro­grade on March 3, while in leafy Libra; she is dis­cour­aged by plant­ing sea­son. By the time Ceres (1801) turns direct, on May 5 while in seed­ling Virgo, the mother to Per­seph­one, queen of the under­world, should have come to the realiza­tion that at least one whole season has gone miss­ing.

Dziewanna retrograde 2023
Dzi­e­wan­na (2010) finds her self at a cross­roads when turn­ing retro­grade, in im­plac­cable Scor­pio, damp March to dry August. If well-as­pect­ed, the slav­ic deity of deep wilder­ness could, for sure, ab­stain from a rust­ic hunt; if not, the earth god­dess gives it her all.

Huya retrograde 2023
When Huya (2000) retro­grades in Sagit­ta­rius, show­er­ing April to sun­shine August, the ven­ez­uel­an rain god can semi-in­ten­tion­al­ly flip, and what was once thought of as over and done with re­turns for a sec­ond life.

Iris retrograde 2023
Storm clouds can per­sist for Iris (1847) as she retro­grades in stygian Scor­pio, from scent­ed April to pun­gent June, a time when the rain­bow god­dess is eclipsed.

Jupiter retrograde 2023
The roman thunder god will retro­grade in four-square Tau­rus, Sep­tem­ber 4 to De­cem­ber 31. If well-as­pect­ed, Jupi­ter (1610) wards off a self­ish streak; if not, the first­gen titan of rain be­comes cal­lous. Ancient astron­o­mers paid close at­ten­tion to the future god-king of Olympus, and made a note of his repeat­able twelve-year re-ap­pear­ance at the same posi­tion in heav­en. Baby­lon­ian sky watch­ers then posi­tioned the god of light­ning as a mark­er of Time, and fanned out to pin­point the con­stel­la­tions, de­scribe the zodiac, begin a map of the first heaven.

Šiwa retrograde 2023
Šiwa life” (1874) turns retro­grade in driv­en Aries, Sep­tem­ber to No­vem­ber, a balanc­ing act for the sloven­ian fer­til­i­ty god­dess, who might have pre­ferred a less-goad­ed pace, un­easi­ly nav­i­gat­ing a fraught period while clad in a space-weath­ered body­suit the color of ox blood, wov­en of organ­ic-rich sili­cates, stitched us­ing tho­len thread and lined with kerogen.

Teharonhiawako retrograde 2023
When the iro­quois agri­cul­tural god retro­grades in porous Pis­ces, lim­ber July to old-man De­cem­ber, it does not bode well for prom­is­ing shoots plant­ed ear­lier, during spring. Teha­ron­hia­wako (2001) has come back now as a binary be­ing, and lives in the Kui­per Belt with his broth­er, and sec­ond­ary, Sawis­kera (2001). These alpha-and-omega gods of maize or­bit each oth­er as they go around the Sun.

  2023 Rx

Book of Love


Eros retrograde 2023
This elemental love god with a con­test­ed orig­in is to retro­grade, leav­ing splishy Pisces for splashy Aqua­rius, sun-lotion June to sun­burn Sep­tem­ber, nurs­ing the death of an in­no­cence. Eros (1898) is al­so the first male god to emerge from the Aste­roid Belt, ir­reg­u­lar­ly shaped and show­ing off a 20-ton body, wear­ing alum­i­num speedos sewn with gold thread and fast­ened by plat­inum snaps. The god of desire’s skin is pock­marked by rocks spewed out by sev­eral vol­can­ic erup­tions, one of which is from a bil­lion years ago.

Hera retrograde 2023
The seventh-greco wife to roman Jupi­ter will retro­grade, from day-dream­ing Aquarius to bread-win­ning Capri­corn, social July to lazy Sep­tem­ber. If well-aspect­ed, Hera (1868) tells no lies and keeps all secrets; if not, an enemy made during this period can last a long time. Hera has a roman twin some one hundred aste­roids away, JUNO (1804), who does not retro­grade in 2023.

Saturn retrograde 2023
Beginning a retro­grade on June 17, the first­gen titan of the Har­vest is prone to see his money pour­ing down the drain. Try­ing to reverse this course by the “bringer of old age” can instead enhance, albeit inadver­tently, the out­come of some hap­hazard­ly deployed, none­the­less lethal, action. This mad­ding period is over with on Novem­ber 3. By then, Saturn will have moved on from this season of treason, obliged to preen as usual in photo­graphs as a clas­sical planet with many moons, carry­ing rings which perpet­ually rain down onto his surface organic build­ing blocks in frozen pack­ages.

Venus retrograde 2023
The principal roman love god­dess turns retro­grade in easy-peasy Leo, July 23 to Sep­tem­ber 3, when she sees fifty ways to cause a sep­aration. If well-aspect­ed, the lover to Mars, Bac­chus, Mer­cury, Nep­tune, etc., can end a quar­rel; if not, the “chang­er of hearts” might start one. Venus (2000 BC) orbits the Sun naked, show­ing off a body made of solid rock, veined in inert argon. The nearest planet to the Sun is under­going con­tin­uous ex­foli­ation, losing her precious atoms of nitro­gen, float­ing across a carbon dioxide atmos­phere, each encased in a pack­age of sul­furic acid, the whole presented as a drifting gauze. “Foam born” has a hellen­ic half who is also an ast­roid god­dess: APHRO­DITE (1935), who turns retro­grade in party-hardy Sagit­ta­rius, from late April to August, a reason she might just catch a social disease.

Vesta retrograde 2023
A pledge to stick with home-cook­ing might crum­ble, when Ves­ta (1807) turns retro­grade, from No­vem­ber 3 to De­cem­ber 31, leav­ing full-plate Can­cer for lunch-bag Gem­i­ni. If well-as­pect­ed, the re­vered roman god­dess of the hearth makes do with take-out; if not, noth­ing tastes right.

     CRADLE    OLYMPIA
  2023 Rx

Art of Darkness


Altjira retrograde 2023
The aboriginal deity of dream­time retro­grades twice, both times in ver­sa­tile Gem­i­ni; Jan­u­ary to Feb­ru­ary, and Oct­o­ber to De­cem­ber. These win­try weeks might tease out the needy and sen­ti­men­tal sides of Alt­jira (2001), per­iods when his eye­lids can’t close.

Ceto retrograde 2023
The disastrous daugh­ter to mother Earth and Pon­tos is poised to retro­grade in trans­for­ma­tive Scorpio, from chop­py March to calm­er August, adrift and with no map. If well-aspect­ed, Ceto (2003) brings out the marine matri­arch; if not, the mother to choice greco crea­tures (among them the three Gor­gons and maybe the Hers­peri­des) is un­will­ing to relin­quish a lived-in life­style, and might have to “walk the plank” (com­mit self-harm) to appease angry waves.

Chaos retrograde 2023
The chthonic god­dess of the dark retro­grades twice, first in cur­ious Gem­i­ni, Jan­u­ary to March, feel­ing a bit irked. The sec­ond time, No­vem­ber to De­cem­ber, while in shel­lacked Can­cer, Chaos (1998) is a bit dis­mayed. Irked (cab­in fev­er?) and dis­mayed (food in­secur­ity?) is the “dark majes­ty and mys­tery of crea­tion in­car­nate” be­cause retro­grades can fuck with her well-oiled men­tal health: “a shape­less, un­wrought mass of dis­con­nect­ed ele­ments all heaped to­geth­er in anar­chic dis­array”.

Circe retrograde 2023
Circe (1855) retro­grades from dis­cern­ing Cap­ri­corn in May to a dar­ing Sagit­ta­rius in August. If well-as­pect­ed, the “mis­tress of black magic” on­ly has to go through low-grade self es­teem is­sues; if not, flayed and ex­posed to the ele­ments.

Eris retrograde 2023
During the first retro­grade, begin­ning in Jan­uary, the daugh­ter to Nyx (Night) has man­aged to smoth­er a com­bust­ing Aries, her sib­ling; the battle­field now is acrid. The second time “Abhorred” retro­grades, begin­ning in Sum­mer and again in Aries, she is ready for combat but is frus­trated, surround­ed by green­horns. Eris (2003) orbits the Sun some 8.8 trillion miles (14.28 trillion kilo­meters) away, sport­ing a mantle of white-white panes of iced-methane constant­ly shed­ding miasmas. Under this battle­suit, the greco chaos god­dess is rumored to be a turbu­lent sea planet.

Gonggong retrograde 2023
It is per­haps fortu­nate that this mon­strous water ser­pent goes in and out of retro­grade, for the next fif­teen years, while in dissolv­ing Pisces, because then his tidal-may­hem pat­terns can be gleaned to fore­warn. For 2024, this retro­grade period occurs July through Novem­ber. Gong­gong (2007) is a sino immor­tal, ban­ished to the Scat­tered Disc region of space, gleam­ing in scales stained oxblood-red by ancient tholin, refrac­ting iced flakes of irradi­ated methane.

Hekate retrograde 2023
The god­dess of boun­da­ries, Hekate (1868), has only a brief period, Jan­uary into Feb­ruary, to autopsy a spent domes­tic drama that almost went off the rails, rely­ing on inter­view­ing an aloof Cancer, then a feisty Gemini.

Lempo retrograde 2023
This primal viking love god­dess turned sex-migrant has returned as an easy-going fin­nish nether god, set to retro­grade while in pos­ses­sive Tau­rus, from one-blan­ket Sep­tem­ber to two-blan­kets Decem­ber. If well-aspect­ed, inti­macy takes flight and returns as chivalry; if not, seem­ing­ly sex-shy Lem­po (1999) won’t post­pone his revenge.

Lilith retrograde 2023
The orig­in­al witch” goes retro­grade, in meth­od­i­cal Vir­go, from dor­mant Feb­ru­ary into fecund April. If well-as­pect­ed, the “first wom­an” wears well her veil of old cob­webs, on a quest to re­deem the past; if not, Lilith (1927) is caught red-hand­ed, ped­dling snake oil.

Mars retrograde 2023
Pre­pared­ness and train­ing come to naught as the roman god of war en­ters 2023 trail­ing back­wards in gosh-darn Gem­i­ni. Mars (1534-bce) is to exit retro­grade just elev­en days later, then will spend the rest of the year gin­ning up the troops for an­oth­er campaign.

Zhulong retrograde 2023
A sino solar god begins a retro­grade from wet March to humid July, while in true-blue Scor­pio. Zhu­long (2014) has returned as a humon­gous fire-breath­ing dragon, on a quest to ground fire devils every­where.

     POND    ART
  2023 Rx

Olympia Academy


Apollo retrograde 2023
The god of pure truth” will retro­grade during 2023 back down five zodiac signs, from flower­ing April to fruit­ed July. If well-aspect­ed, Apol­lo (1932) swal­lows his pride, asks for assis­tance; if not, “Shin­ing” is serial­ly kicked out of queen-size Libra, to futon Virgo, then water­bed Cancer, before shack­ing up with sleeping-bag Gemini. The god to foreign­ers is leader of the apollo tribe: a posse of aste­roids pass­ing close enough to Earth to consti­tute a threat.

Chiron retrograde 2023
The wisest cen­taur” turns retro­grade, July 23 through Decem­ber 26, in aus­tere Aries. Chiron (1977) finds that he’s stepped on and cracked a mir­ror. If well-aspect­ed, the hybrid human-horse is given a win­dow of oppor­tunity to try and re-assem­ble the looking-glass; if not, then the hellen­ic “teacher of medi­cine, herbs, music, archery, hunt­ing, and gym­nas­tics” stares into the cracked pieces and is lost in dead-ends. Prone to ankle injuries, Chiron is the first of his kind: a collec­tive of aste­roid bodies with comet tails, on un­stable, chaotic orbits that are influenced tidal­ly by roman sea god Nep­tune. Cen­taur comet PHOLUS (1992) is set to retro­grade, merrie May to soaked Sep­tem­ber, in conser­vative Capri­corn, a sea­son when rest­less and exhaust­ing inept­ness tugs at the centaur tasked with guard­ing his tribe’s wine supply.

Hephaistos retrograde 2023
Set to retro­grade, from molten Aries in Sep­tem­ber to hard­ened Tau­rus dur­ing Decem­ber, Hephaistos (1978) finds time at last to sit down, re­read the rush work order for arma­ments only his forge could devise. The far-flung god of fire­smiths then will realize that he had read wrong. If well-aspect­ed, the god of crafts­men has wasted both time and money; if not, only time will be wasted.

Hebe retrograde 2023
The greco god­dess of youth be­gins the year in the midst of a retro­grade in toothy Leo; this period will end in March, in shy Can­cer. If well-as­pect­ed, Hebe (1847) at­tains an in­sight that comes with a price; if not, the aste­roid wife to aste­roid Her­ac­les spends winter­time res­ur­rect­ing her storms of youth.

Heracles retrograde
Stalled in a han­gry Aries, from rip­ened August to cured No­vem­ber, Her­ac­les (1991) finds ample ex­cuses to put on weight. If well-as­pect­ed, this son of Thebes can cram, as is his wont, and still leave room for a side of diplo­macy; if not, rit­uals of rend­ing and gnaw­ing two or more times a day.

Panacea and Hygiea retrogrades 2023
Challenged to retro­grade in friend­ster Aqua­rius, from warm June to hot Sep­tem­ber, ­ a face­mask should be­come a no-brain­er for Hy­gieagood health” (1849); be­cause. Mean­while, her sis­ter, Pana­ceacura­tive” (1980), gets to spend retro­grade, from open-win­dow Sep­tem­ber to fire­side De­cem­ber, as nurse to a fev­er­ish Aries, dis­pens­ing (one can so hope) bit­ter-tast­ing tea­spoons of re­viv­i­fy­ing san­i­ty.

Mercury retrograde 2023
The first of four retro­grades in 2023 by com­pli­cat­ed crea­tion Mer­cury (265-bc) is over with in the first seven­teen days of 2023, spent in an un­yield­ing Cap­ri­corn.
The sec­ond retro­grade hap­pens from April 21 to May 14 in a no-room-for-er­ror Tau­rus.
The third time, Au­gust 23 to Sep­tem­ber 14 in rosy-cheeked Vir­go, is when the mes­sen­ger of the gods comes to the real­i­za­tion he is over­taxed, and there­fore can­not rec­og­nize him­self in the mir­ror.
During the last time, De­cem­ber 13 to 31, from by-the-book Cap­ri­corn to pro­phet­ic Sagit­ta­rius, the “con­duc­tor of souls” de­lin­e­ates a widen­ing maw.
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There is a hel­len­ic heap of Mer­cury, come back now as an apol­lo aste­roid, who is to retro­grade down four zodiac signs, from in-door Feb­ru­ary to picnic-time July. If well-as­pect­ed, HER­MES (1937) does not hit anyth­ing, any­one; if not, the god who cel­e­brates a birth­day every fourth day of the month is help­less, ping­pong­ing from zany Aqua­rius, in-the-way Cap­ri­corn, jumpy Sagit­ta­rius to don’t-tread-on-me Scor­pio.
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This is a link to see if Mer­cury is cur­rent­ly retro­grade.

Pallas retrograde 2023
The greco-roman god­dess of wis­dom has many names, over­sees many oth­er con­cerns be­sides be­ing the smart­est one in Olym­pus. Then the car­bons start­ed show­ing up, first Pal­las, then Ath­ene, and Min­er­va, join­ing up to be­come a comp­li­cat­ed trip­le-aste­roid god­dess – a be­ing cap­able of mul­ti­ple, and simul­tan­e­ous, retro­grades. The first of the lovely-haired god­dess to ap­pear was Athene (1917), a hel­len­ic shard which then van­ished and was nev­er seen again. The sec­ond piece, a roman-sized rock named Min­er­va (1867), is primed for two retro­grades; the first dur­ing Jan­u­ary in car­ing Can­cer. The sec­ond, from Oct­o­ber to De­cem­ber in a stub­born Tau­rus, pinned to a place of dead roads. The third com­po­nent is al­so the larg­est frag­ment, Pal­las (1802), set to retro­grade in a re­fined Can­cer, Jan­u­ary and Feb­ru­ary, dur­ing a time of need­less neglect.

Terpsichore retrograde 2023
The muse of music is dis­traught by the cur­rent war dance. Terp­si­cho­re (1864) is to retro­grade in polite Pis­ces, from har­vest dance Aug­ust to down-time Sep­tem­ber. If well-as­pect­ed, she suf­fers no fools; if not, the moth­er to the Sirens might be tasked to com­pose an aria for con­flict.

     GARDEN    ART
  2023 Rx

The Underworld


Eurydike retrograde 2023
The dead wife to Or­pheus will retro­grade, from rain­bow-hued Sagit­ta­rius to hell­ish Scor­pio, from warm May un­til sun­tan-lotion July. If well-as­pect­ed, Eury­dike (1862) only copes with a bout of un­ease; if not, she who once had tred on a snake, died, went to the under­world, re-en­acts “prin­cess and the pea” a good several times.

Mors-Somnus retrograde 2023
Roman gods Mors “death” and Som­nus “sleep” share an exis­tence now as a binary be­ing, orbit­ing in the Kui­per Belt and be­hold­en to the grav­i­ta­tion­al guid­ance of Plu­to. Mors-Som­nus (2007) is set to turn retro­grade in ten­sion-fraught Tau­rus, windy Oct­o­ber to stormy Decem­ber, un­able to de­cide on wheth­er to hold a sword or wield a pen.

Orcus retrograde 2023
This infernal im­mor­tal will retro­grade in ex­act­ing Vir­go, from hard­ly wet Jan­u­ary to dry May. If well-as­pect­ed, the “pun­ish­er of broken oaths” might back­slide – and not fling out so many edicts left and right; if not, Orcus (2004) gets mouthy, pon­tif­i­cates, prob­a­bly ends up hav­ing to pay the piper. The proto-roman god of hell had re-sur­faced in­to recent his­tory, oblique in a man­tle of faint tho­lins, en­crust­ed with meth­aned rub­ble dusty with drops of am­mo­nia, and miles-long falls shoot­ing jets of iced crys­tal­line water in­to the sky.

Osiris retrograde 2023
Preferring dark suits and all of 8 miles (13 kilo­meters) wide, Osiris (1960) is an am­bas­sa­dor from the house of Egypt to the Aste­roid Belt. The port­man­teau des­ert dei­ty is to retro­grade, frost­bite Feb­ru­ary to fiery May, down cloud­less Libra to a dap­pled Vir­go. Mean­while, the in­ten­tions of the egyp­tian god of res­ur­rec­tion dur­ing a retro­grade re­mains un­known, locked in silence.

Persephone retrograde 2023
The greco queen of the under­world turns retro­grade in vir­tual Vir­go, Feb­ru­ary to April, inter­rupt­ing a quest for bet­ter days. If well-as­pect­ed, Per­seph­one (1895) only has to re­trace lost months; if not, the daugh­ter to agri­cul­tural god­dess Ceres and rain god Jupi­ter is adrift, be­cause root­less. These days, the wife to Plu­to is al­so the pri­mary seg­ment of a trip­le-space god­dess. There is roman ruin PROSER­PINA (1853), who lives just 373 aste­roids away. And an­tique KORE (2003), orbit­ing Jupi­ter as one of his many moons.

Pluto retrograde 2023
The roman king of the under­world retro­grades, May 1 to Oct­o­ber 10, from the lev­el play­ing field of Aqua­rius to the rocky ruts of Cap­ri­corn. For the rest of the year, a de­natured dance has been on-go­ing. If well-as­pect­ed, Pluto (1930) gets part­nered with man­u­fac­tured con­sent; if not, the “god with no name” takes on all part­ners.

Typhon retrograde 2023
The sire to the four direc­tion­al winds turns retro­grade, cloudy March to clear-sky July, while in tri-formed Scor­pio. If well-as­pect­ed, Typhon (2002) stays curled up in­side a malev­o­lent mouth; if not, the “ser­pent su­preme” can­not wait to greet spring equi­nox with a syringe of nas­ti­ness. Typhon is paired with a moon-mate, the snake Echid­na (2006); they are now a binary be­ing in the Scat­tered Disc.



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Stockton Street 2015

The T-Third light­rail runs under Stock­ton Street, con­nect­ing Mis­sion Bay, Dog­patch, Islais Creek, Bay­view-Hunt­ers Point, Bret Harte (Lit­tle Holly­wood) with the Cal­train Sta­tion, Mos­cone Cen­ter, Market Street and China­town. Some stations have landmark and/or way­find­ing art.

| Central Subway Art


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(Yerba Buena)
Concourse
Construction of Mos­cone Center, which opened in 1981, and docu­ment­ed by Cather­ine Wag­ner, is now floor-to-ceil­ing size, 'Arc Cycle' (2021), four photo­graphs sand­blast­ed or laser-etched onto stone and metal walls in the concourse.


(Union Square)
Detail of landmark art
Data-driven local public-tran­sit hubs stained onto glass, by the duo-art­ist Hughen|Stark­weath­er, greet pas­sen­gers at street level, where 'Con­ver­gence: Com­mute Pat­terns' (2022, detail) is washed by natural and arti­fi­cial light, plays with shadows.


(Chinatown)
Winning couplet on roof plaza
A winning 'Couplet' (2016) for the roof plaza went to Carina Mui: “In the past, we trav­eled across the Pacific to mine for gold. Now, we break through earth to form a silver dragon.” Ren­dered on glass by callig­rapher Terry Luk.


(Yerba Buena)
Mural above station-agent booth
A multi-layered hand­made mural by Leslie Shows, us­ing glass, steel and color to depict 'Face C/Z' (2021), a mag­ni­fied piece of “fool’s gold.”


(Union Square)
Photo of concourse
A hypnotic ceil­ing in­stal­la­tion ebbs and flows in color-chang­ing light. Erwin Redl has cre­ated a time machine on the con­course, mask­ing dis­tances with 'Lucy in the Sky' (2023).


(Brennan)
Mobile hoisted to the sky
An aerodynamic mobile by Moto Oh­take is placed high up on a pole at this street-level sta­tion, so that the 31 rotat­ing points on 'Micro­cos­mic' (2016) ini­tiate con­ver­sa­tions with the wind.


(Yerba Buena)
Plaza sculpture Node
This shoot, which burst through the plaza and shot up 103 feet, was then tackled by Roxy Paine, who prompt­ly swathed 'Node' (2023) in stain­less steel, knowing it had come from the nether­world of Moscone Center.


(Yerba Buena)
Detail of mural
A mural patterned on Silk Road crafts, equal parts quilt and cathedral window, 'A Sense of Community' (2022, detail) by Clare Rojas, gives a stylized glimpse into Chinatown.


(Union Square)
Closeup of Silent Stream
'Silent Stream' (2022, detail) by Jim Camp­bell and Wer­ner Klotz, is a rib­bon of stain­less steel disks hover­ing over the plat­form, sinu­ous and glim­mer­ing, echo­ing a once-nearby under­ground stream.


(Chinatown)
Artwork for mural
A subterranean plat­form requires long esca­lators, so two wall-sized eye can­dies relieve the ride: metal murals 'The Sprout Dance' and “Dance of the Bride” (both 2022) by paper­cut artist Yumei Hou.




  Font Lab

Brush Script MT    Copperplate    Papyrus    Courier New    Courier MS    Monaco    Lucida Console    Helvetica    Avant Garde    Century Gothic    Lucida Grande    Arial Narrow    Segoe UI    Tahoma    Geneva    Verdana    Palatino    Garamond    Bookman    Impact    Didot    Perpetua    Baskerville    Century Schoolbook    Palatino Linotype    Book Antiqua    Times New Roman    Big Caslon    Lucida Bright    Bodoni MT    Hoefler Text    Trebuchet MS






-|  September 2023  |-










  WILD WILD WEST   Wild Wild West
Illustrated w/ collages, drawings, maps, paintings, photographs, prints and quotes
| |  Out west, when 1848 was on­ly twenty-four days old, mechan­ic James Marshall was mak­ing a rou­tine in­spec­tion on the grounds of a saw­mill he man­aged for his em­ploy­er. That was when the New Jer­sey native noticed some odd-look­ing ore in a water chan­nel of the South Fork of the Amer­i­can River. It was “... bright, yet mal­le­a­ble. I then tried it be­tween two rocks, and found that it could be beaten in­to a differ­ent shape, but not broken.”

 | |  Nine days after Marshall emerged from the waters w/ his find, the Treaty of Guada­lupe Hidal­go was signed, trans­fer­ring a large tract of Mex­ico to the United States.  | |  These concurrent events to­geth­er pre­cip­i­ta­ted the Cali­for­nia Gold Rush of 1849, when folks came from all over, bring­ing dreams while pray­ing to the god and god­dess of wealth for a show of “colour”  | |  The first came from Mon­te­rey, San Fran­cis­co, San Jose and So­no­ma: when clerks, doc­tors, labor­ers, law­yers, mechan­ics, ranch­eros left their jobs. Sail­ors de­ser­ted their ships. Soldiers de­ser­ted the Mex­i­can War. As word spread more came from Hawai‘i, Mex­ico and Ore­gon.  | |  Gold seekers showing up near the saw­mill of John August Sut­ter, where gold was first dis­cov­ered, had no need for milled lum­ber, and his busi­ness went into de­cline. All the while, a new settle­ment grew across the Amer­i­can Riv­er to be­come Colo­ma, the first gold rush town. Near­by stands a mon­u­ment, by the Native Sons of the Golden West, to mark the grave of James Wil­son Marshall, the “dis­cov­er­er of gold.”



Westward-Ho!

Panama 1849

One can cross Pan­a­ma to get to Cali­for­nia rather than sail around Cape Horn. Up Chagres riv­er to the town of Cule­bra; then don­keys to Gulf of Pan­a­ma, elev­en miles away.
Maps were consulted and what became the Cali­for­nia Trial be­gan w/ exis­ting routes. Emi­grants showed up along the Mis­sou­ri riv­er and towns in Illi­nois or Iowa. Wagon trains hitched, they head­ed out, cross­ing land­apes of grass­lands, prai­ries, steppes, val­leys and riv­ers to Wyo­ming and Fort Lara­mie. Fort Laramie 1834  | |  The only way to cross the Rock­ies was a cor­ri­dor be­yond Fort Lara­mie, lev­el and broad. South Pass af­ford­ed sev­er­al routes pas­sage to Cali­for­nia. At a fork in the road soon after, the Ore­gon Trail veers right while the Mor­mon Trail turns south to­ward Fort Bridger.

Fort Bridger 1842  | |  Overland travelers chose routes de­pen­dent on start­ing point and final des­ti­na­tion. Oth­er factors were the con­di­tion of their wagons, live­stock, and the avail­ability of water.
Gold Country 1850  | |  From California, one can get to Ore­gon on the Apple­gate Trail (1846), an alter­native to the haz­ard­ous last leg of the Ore­gon Trail.

 | |  The Oregon Trail be­gins in Mis­sou­ri and leaves ei­ther Fort Leav­en­worth, Inde­pen­dence or Saint Jo­seph for a two thou­sand mile trek to the Ore­gon Ter­ri­tory. Past the Great Plains, then the Rock­ies, head­ing west north­west to the Snake river, Fort Boise, Wit­man Mis­sion, The Dales, Fort Van­cou­ver, the Colum­bia river, and the coast.

The Santa Fe Trail starts off in Mis­sou­ri, rolls through Kan­sas and a cor­ner of Colo­rado. Cross­ing the Arkan­sas river be­fore drop­ping to New Mex­ico, the trail loses its iden­tity some­what in San­ta Fe, where it is braid­ed to the Gila Trail, a local 16th-c. com­merce and trav­el high road, bring­ing trade from in­land to the coast.
 | |  The Mormon Trail, gathers in Illi­nois and wends by Iowa and Nebras­ka be­fore join­ing estab­lished trails in Wyo­ming. To­geth­er they cross the Rock­ies, then the Mor­mon Trail con­tin­ues south south­west to Utah Ter­ri­tory to end up in Los Angeles. Be­sides the over­land­ers there were al­so sea­farers.

O Pioneers! 1849 Cape Horn 1849  | |  An eight-month sea route from New York to San Fran­cis­co would in­volve a haz­ard­ous round­ing of Cape Horn.

Atlantic Ocean 1852

Gold Fever
A 49er carries pick­axe, shov­el and pan. Can add a rock­er and a hop­per; some also con­duct hy­draul­ic ex­pe­ri­ments. A water wheel would be jim-dan­dy, to pick up indi­vid­ual quan­ti­ties of gold-bear­ing grav­el and sand.

Gold Mining 1949
49er 1848 Personal gear: pair of blan­kets, fry­ing-pan, flour, salt pork, bran­dy (or other sanc­ti­fy­ing spirit). Field gear must-haves: pick­axe, shovel and pan. Some pro­cure a mule. toolbox  | |  Gold miners w/ no finan­cial back­ing learn to con­gre­gate along moun­tain roads and wait for sup­ply wagons pass­ing through, bring­ing food and tools and carry­ing out gold dust. Satur­day nights were for saloon­ing and carous­ing. Sun­day is a holi­day – laun­dry, tool re­pair, swap­ping stories, writ­ing let­ters, nap­ping.

49ers 1854
gold pan  | |  A twelve inch shal­low sheet-iron pan to rinse soil w/ water and lo­cate the gold. rocker  | |  A rock­er is a rec­tan­gu­lar wood­en box mount­ed on two rock­ers and set at a down­ward angle.
hopper  | |  The hop­per is a box sit­ting on top of the rock­er, lined w/ a sheet of per­for­a­ted iron. Be­neath is an area called the “riddle-box.”
long tom  | |  The long tom is an im­proved rock­er plus hop­per, reach­ing to twen­ty feet in length. A long sheet of per­for­a­ted iron lines the bot­tom and be­neath that iw the riddle-box.
 | |  Women too had gold fev­er, com­ing from Mex­ico, Chile, Peru, Eng­land, France, New York and New Orleans. James Marshall tests his discovery’s quality in Mrs Wimmer’s kettle of boiling soap  | |  Depicted in history as adven­turess, courte­san, har­lot, pick­pocket, pros­ti­tute and the demi­monde, these women were al­so book­keep­ers, cooks, laun­dress­es, shop-keep­ers, maids, wives. When moun­tain roads im­proved suffi­cient­ly to make trav­el be­tween towns feas­i­ble, they set forth as per­form­ers. Golden Girls 1849  | |  Mrs Clappe came west in 1851 w/ her hus­band. In her let­ters home she gives an ac­count of the era, about geol­ogy and a vis­it to a rural doctor’s rude of­fice of pine shin­gles and cot­ton cloth.

City of Gold
saloon chandelier
Sydney Duck “Eng­lish Jim” Stuart was hanged for rob­bery and mur­der on July 11 1851.

San Francisco 1851
Yerba Buena 1847 1848 Yerba Buena was a ham­let on the San Fran­cis­co penin­sula w/ an ex­cel­lent har­bor. The Span­iards es­tab­lished a mari­time trad­ing post and built the Mis­sion of San Fran­cis­co de Asis. Ships dock­ing in its cove dis­charged sea­far­ers to a Span­ish-style pla­za known as Ports­mouth Square. Eureka! 1848
 | |  On arrival gold seek­ers rent­ed lodg­ings in shan­ties and tent towns, and stayed long enough to buy tools and pro­vi­sions be­fore head­ing out.

Sydney Ducks 1848  | |  Brought over from Aus­tra­lia to perform labor, Eng­lish con­victs de­ser­ted en masse and in­stead formed a gang. Soon a fron­tier patch of law­less­ness, Sydney Town, sprout­ed at the base of Tele­graph Hill. The Sydney Ducks preyed on peo­ple and prop­er­ty, aug­men­ted by a gang of lady pick­poc­kets, and wil­ling­ly com­mit­ted mur­der to survive.
Post Office  | |  The embers of Syd­ney Town re­kin­dled and gave birth to the Bar­bary Coast, chock-a-block w/ bars, saloons, broth­els, con­cert halls, dance halls; where “get­ting shang­haied” was first re­hearsed. Sur­vived the 1906 Earth­quake and Fire, by 1917 the red-light dis­trict was no more.

San Francisco 1848 1849 19850 1851 Mint of San Francisco

Gold Mountain
Coloma Valley 1849
Sutter’s Mill on the South Fork of the Amer­i­can River.
Sutters Mill 1848 Coloma, next to Sut­ter’s Mill, was the first gold min­ing town. A post of­fice and jail were add­ed in 1852 – both proved pop­ular. Gold min­ing also took place north at Bid­well’s Bar, Cut Eye Fos­ter’s Bar, Down­ie­ville, Dutch Flat, Good­year’s Bar, Grass Val­ley, Hell­town, Illinois­town, Iowa Hill, Kana­ka Flat, Lousy Level, Marys­ville, Mur­der­ers Bar, Neva­da City, Plu­mas City, Poker Flat, Rough and Ready, Wash­ing­ton, Whis­key Flat, Wis­con­sin Hill, and You Bet.  | |  South at Angels Camp, Chi­nese Camp, Dog­town, Fair Play, Hor­ni­tos, Jack­son, Moke­lum­me Hill, Mor­mon Bar, Raw­hide, Rich Gulch, Shaw’s Flat, Sonora, Vol­cano.
 | |  Gold was found along trib­u­ta­ries to the San Joa­quin and Sac­ra­men­to riv­ers. At Au­burn, Dia­mond Springs, Grizz­ly Flats, Mis­sou­ri Flat, Placer­ville.

Miwok 1851  | |  Home to Native Amer­i­cans incl. the Miwok, the Sier­ra Neva­da was rude­ly af­fect­ed by the Gold Rush. In 1849 an incident oc­curred along the Mid­dle Fork of the Amer­i­can River when some 49ers died and some indi­genes killed. An un­easy truce ob­tained when Native Amer­i­cans were hired on as labor­ers and paid in tin, but by 1900 their pop­u­la­tion had de­clined to only ±16,000.

Hollywood 1935  | |  Be­fore James Cag­ney was the Fris­co Kid and Ed­ward G. Robin­son drama­tized life in the Bar­bary Coast era, there was a 1913 fea­ture, The Last Night of the Bar­bary Coast, now a lost film.
pair of jeans The 1849 state cen­sus count­ed 42,000 over­land­ers and 35,000 sea­far­ers caught up by gold fev­er; to­geth­er w/ 3,000 sail­ors who had deser­ted ships.

 | |  Coloma is now a ghost town in­side Marsh­all Gold Dis­cov­ery State His­toric Park.

Chinatown 1852 Like all who seek a bet­ter to­mor­row, the Chi­nese too came to the Cali­for­nia Gold Rush, formed a fra­tern­i­ty in Colo­ma, squat­ted spent claims and worked as a team over the “tail­ings” left be­hind. In 1880 this gold-min­ing China­town was lost to fire.



 2023  RETROGRADES 
Join­ing her kin in the Sky, as the last greco roman deity to quit pri­meval earth-goddess Ge, was titan­ess of Jus­tice Astraea, who became the last mytho­logical link to Terra Firma, and is now part of a com­posite pan­theon: a grow­ing galaxy of space rocks found to be spin­ning around Sol, pay­ing heed his gravi­tation-throne of Apollo, and related to each other in a hypo­thet­ical heaven.


  2023 Rx

Cradle Court


Astraea retrograde
Slowing down while in tis­sue-thin Can­cer, As­tra­eastar­ry night” (1945) will spend De­cem­ber ex­haust­ed, and when loose lips can sink ships; the vir­gin god­dess is prone to be­ing a born-again en­ab­ler, gal­li­vant­ing out-and-about show­ing off a nic­kel-smooth cape en­crust­ed with iron, and sport­ing magne­sium sili­cates.

Fates retrograde 2023
On tra­jec­tor­ies to per­form retro­grades for 2023, the three Fates will have man­aged the feat of align­ing ±30 and ±60 de­gress apart from one an­other, to per­form an un­com­mon rite which is set to cul­mi­nate as autumn peaks. Klo­thospin­ner” (1868) turns retro­grade, Sep­tem­ber to No­vem­ber, from head-in-cloud Aries back to under-water Pis­ces, per­form­ing merit­less multi-task­ing.
  Lache­sismeas­ur­er” (1872) turns retro­grade while in Aries, from breezy Sep­tem­ber to gusty De­cem­ber, prone to end­less mind games.
  Atro­poscut­ter” (1888) retro­grades in crowd­ed Tau­rus, boun­ti­ful Oc­to­ber to bar­ren De­cem­ber, in an in­de­ci­sive­ness state. The Fates are now aste­roid god­desses, who once en­joyed exis­tence as con­joined sis­ters, pres­ent at every birth, in or­der to take meas­ure then deter­mine the time of death.

Haumea retrograde 2023
Spending half the year in retro­grade, scram­bled Feb­ru­ary to sun­ny-side-up July, Haumea (2004) leaves the den of Scor­pio for the sun-room of Libra. If well-as­pect­ed, secrets don’t spill; if not, the hawai‘ian child­birth god­dess is prob­ably the one to walk away.

Quaoar retrograde 2023
The creation god of the tong­va peo­ple in pres­ent-day Cali­for­nia ratch­ets up a ten­sion-filled year, dur­ing a retro­grade in in­flex­i­ble Cap­ri­corn, from show­ery May to sunny Sep­tem­ber. If well-as­pect­ed, uni-minds en­coun­ter glitches; if not, ir­re­spon­si­bles will twist and shout. Qua­oar (2002) has re­turned as a minor planet, or­bit­ing the Sun some seven tril­lion miles away, wear­ing shiny red rock stick-ons, shiver­ing and under­going radio­active de­cay, cough­ing up car­bon mon­ox­ide and musty ejects of bond­ed nitro­gen and meth­ane.

Sila-Nunam retrograde 2023
Sila breath of life” and Nu­nam “moth­er” hav­ing been mates since for­ever, share now a life as a binary be­ing from the Kui­per Belt, and is set to retro­grade twice, both times in noble Leo. Sila-Nunam (1977) spends gloomy Jan­u­ary to cloudy May stalled over a seem­ing­ly done deal. The sec­ond epi­sode hap­pens dur­ing De­cem­ber, when the in­uit im­mor­tals have to put up with too-many cooks in the kitchen.

Uranus retrograde 2023
The per­son­i­fi­ca­tion of heav­en” will retro­grade twice dur­ing 2023, both times in res­o­lute Tau­rus. The first time had be­gun back in 2022, and will end Jan­u­ary 21. The sec­ond starts on August 29 and goes past the end of the year, as the greco-roman sky god diverts the tra­di­tion­al holi­day sea­son onto an­oth­er path. Be­tween these two retro­grades, Uranussky” (1781) is prob­ably fo­cused on drain­ing the swamp.

     GARDEN    ART
  2023 Rx

Pond of Pontos


Makemake retrograde 2023
This poly­ne­si­an fert­il­i­ty god will retro­grade while in bal­anced Libra, from larva Feb­ru­ary to june-bug June, set­ting up a safe­ty-vs-lib­er­ty con­un­drum. If well-as­pect­ed, Make­make (2005) achieves elo­quence in a de­bate, may­be noth­ing more; if not, the im­mor­tal re­spon­si­ble for mold­ing East­er Is­land and pop­u­lat­ing the ocean again re­lies on text­ing it in, un­der a guise of pas­siv­i­ty, in­side a faint­ly spark­ling char­coal cloak that is big­ger than Plu­to, patchworked with froz­en nitro­gen rings and veined in crim­son-stained meth­ane, where blades of iced eth­ane sprout.

Neptune retrograde 2023
Imagination can run ran­cid when Nep­tune (1846) retro­grades in kitch­en-sink Pis­ces, June 30 to De­cem­ber 5. If well-as­pect­ed, the roman god of the sea hides well be­hind croc­o­dile tears; if not, rip­ples of cruel­ty every­which way he turns. The liq­uid liege had chos­en the date of his re­sur­fac­ing back in­to his­tory by send­ing a dream, in 1846, to a sleep­ing math­e­ma­ti­cian. The woke mor­tal re­turned to the New Ber­lin Ob­ser­va­tory, en­tered a par­tic­u­lar set of co­or­di­nates, then locat­ed the clas­si­cal planet, sit­ting on his tri­dent throne.

Salacia retrograde 2023
The roman god­dess of salt water will spend retro­grade in fin­ger-on-the-trig­ger Aries, ice cream August to hot choc­o­late De­cem­ber, an oc­ca­sion when Sala­cia (2004) pre­sents as both a beau­ty and a beast.

Sedna retrograde 2023
Born on the bot­tom of the Arc­tic Ocean, the pre­mier in­uit sea god­dess gets to retro­grade twice in 2023. First in penned-in Tau­rus, dur­ing Jan­u­ary and Feb­ru­ary. The sec­ond will be in in­con­stant Gem­i­ni, fire­pit Oc­to­ber to bon­fire De­cem­ber, when Sed­na (2003) taints a sea­son for a rea­son with un­spe­ci­fi­able solemn­ity.

Varuna retrograde 2023
The premier hindu marine god is set for two retro­grades, both while in con­fi­dent Leo. The first one, Jan­u­ary to April, spent in a dis­quiet­ing state; the sec­ond, in De­cem­ber, when every­thing grates. Varunadome” (2000) is a com­plex crea­tion of at least five mature civ­il­i­za­tion: com­po­nents, more or less, to moth­er India. Among oth­er of­fices, he “who knows the path­way of the wind” is also the ab­orig­inal vedic sky god, tasked for­ever­more to patrol the cos­mos root­ing out mal­feasance.

     LOVE    CRADLE
  2023 Rx

Garden of Apollon


Bacchus retrograde 2023
From butter­fly May to bee-stung July, Bac­chus (1977) will be in retro­grade, back­slid­ing from bottled-up Capri­corn to un­corked Sagit­tarius. The roman wine god now has a hellenic dou­ble, DIONYSUS (1984), who also has a 2024 retro­grade, coffee March to salad May, exiting cock­tail Libra for vitamin Virgo. These retrogrades happen back-to-back, March through to July, so expect to spend spring play­ing host to the double-asteroid god of the grape.

Ceres retrograde 2023
The roman grain god­dess begins a retro­grade on March 3, while in leafy Libra; she is dis­cour­aged by plant­ing sea­son. By the time Ceres (1801) turns direct, on May 5 while in seed­ling Virgo, the mother to Per­seph­one, queen of the under­world, should have come to the realiza­tion that at least one whole season has gone miss­ing.

Dziewanna retrograde 2023
Dzi­e­wan­na (2010) finds her self at a cross­roads when turn­ing retro­grade, in im­plac­cable Scor­pio, damp March to dry August. If well-as­pect­ed, the slav­ic deity of deep wilder­ness could, for sure, ab­stain from a rust­ic hunt; if not, the earth god­dess gives it her all.

Huya retrograde 2023
When Huya (2000) retro­grades in Sagit­ta­rius, show­er­ing April to sun­shine August, the ven­ez­uel­an rain god can semi-in­ten­tion­al­ly flip, and what was once thought of as over and done with re­turns for a sec­ond life.

Iris retrograde 2023
Storm clouds can per­sist for Iris (1847) as she retro­grades in stygian Scor­pio, from scent­ed April to pun­gent June, a time when the rain­bow god­dess is eclipsed.

Jupiter retrograde 2023
The roman thunder god will retro­grade in four-square Tau­rus, Sep­tem­ber 4 to De­cem­ber 31. If well-as­pect­ed, Jupi­ter (1610) wards off a self­ish streak; if not, the first­gen titan of rain be­comes cal­lous. Ancient astron­o­mers paid close at­ten­tion to the future god-king of Olympus, and made a note of his repeat­able twelve-year re-ap­pear­ance at the same posi­tion in heav­en. Baby­lon­ian sky watch­ers then posi­tioned the god of light­ning as a mark­er of Time, and fanned out to pin­point the con­stel­la­tions, de­scribe the zodiac, begin a map of the first heaven.

Šiwa retrograde 2023
Šiwa life” (1874) turns retro­grade in driv­en Aries, Sep­tem­ber to No­vem­ber, a balanc­ing act for the sloven­ian fer­til­i­ty god­dess, who might have pre­ferred a less-goad­ed pace, un­easi­ly nav­i­gat­ing a fraught period while clad in a space-weath­ered body­suit the color of ox blood, wov­en of organ­ic-rich sili­cates, stitched us­ing tho­len thread and lined with kerogen.

Teharonhiawako retrograde 2023
When the iro­quois agri­cul­tural god retro­grades in porous Pis­ces, lim­ber July to old-man De­cem­ber, it does not bode well for prom­is­ing shoots plant­ed ear­lier, during spring. Teha­ron­hia­wako (2001) has come back now as a binary be­ing, and lives in the Kui­per Belt with his broth­er, and sec­ond­ary, Sawis­kera (2001). These alpha-and-omega gods of maize or­bit each oth­er as they go around the Sun.

  2023 Rx

Book of Love


Eros retrograde 2023
This elemental love god with a con­test­ed orig­in is to retro­grade, leav­ing splishy Pisces for splashy Aqua­rius, sun-lotion June to sun­burn Sep­tem­ber, nurs­ing the death of an in­no­cence. Eros (1898) is al­so the first male god to emerge from the Aste­roid Belt, ir­reg­u­lar­ly shaped and show­ing off a 20-ton body, wear­ing alum­i­num speedos sewn with gold thread and fast­ened by plat­inum snaps. The god of desire’s skin is pock­marked by rocks spewed out by sev­eral vol­can­ic erup­tions, one of which is from a bil­lion years ago.

Hera retrograde 2023
The seventh-greco wife to roman Jupi­ter will retro­grade, from day-dream­ing Aquarius to bread-win­ning Capri­corn, social July to lazy Sep­tem­ber. If well-aspect­ed, Hera (1868) tells no lies and keeps all secrets; if not, an enemy made during this period can last a long time. Hera has a roman twin some one hundred aste­roids away, JUNO (1804), who does not retro­grade in 2023.

Saturn retrograde 2023
Beginning a retro­grade on June 17, the first­gen titan of the Har­vest is prone to see his money pour­ing down the drain. Try­ing to reverse this course by the “bringer of old age” can instead enhance, albeit inadver­tently, the out­come of some hap­hazard­ly deployed, none­the­less lethal, action. This mad­ding period is over with on Novem­ber 3. By then, Saturn will have moved on from this season of treason, obliged to preen as usual in photo­graphs as a clas­sical planet with many moons, carry­ing rings which perpet­ually rain down onto his surface organic build­ing blocks in frozen pack­ages.

Venus retrograde 2023
The principal roman love god­dess turns retro­grade in easy-peasy Leo, July 23 to Sep­tem­ber 3, when she sees fifty ways to cause a sep­aration. If well-aspect­ed, the lover to Mars, Bac­chus, Mer­cury, Nep­tune, etc., can end a quar­rel; if not, the “chang­er of hearts” might start one. Venus (2000 BC) orbits the Sun naked, show­ing off a body made of solid rock, veined in inert argon. The nearest planet to the Sun is under­going con­tin­uous ex­foli­ation, losing her precious atoms of nitro­gen, float­ing across a carbon dioxide atmos­phere, each encased in a pack­age of sul­furic acid, the whole presented as a drifting gauze. “Foam born” has a hellen­ic half who is also an ast­roid god­dess: APHRO­DITE (1935), who turns retro­grade in party-hardy Sagit­ta­rius, from late April to August, a reason she might just catch a social disease.

Vesta retrograde 2023
A pledge to stick with home-cook­ing might crum­ble, when Ves­ta (1807) turns retro­grade, from No­vem­ber 3 to De­cem­ber 31, leav­ing full-plate Can­cer for lunch-bag Gem­i­ni. If well-as­pect­ed, the re­vered roman god­dess of the hearth makes do with take-out; if not, noth­ing tastes right.

     CRADLE    OLYMPIA
  2023 Rx

Art of Darkness


Altjira retrograde 2023
The aboriginal deity of dream­time retro­grades twice, both times in ver­sa­tile Gem­i­ni; Jan­u­ary to Feb­ru­ary, and Oct­o­ber to De­cem­ber. These win­try weeks might tease out the needy and sen­ti­men­tal sides of Alt­jira (2001), per­iods when his eye­lids can’t close.

Ceto retrograde 2023
The disastrous daugh­ter to mother Earth and Pon­tos is poised to retro­grade in trans­for­ma­tive Scorpio, from chop­py March to calm­er August, adrift and with no map. If well-aspect­ed, Ceto (2003) brings out the marine matri­arch; if not, the mother to choice greco crea­tures (among them the three Gor­gons and maybe the Hers­peri­des) is un­will­ing to relin­quish a lived-in life­style, and might have to “walk the plank” (com­mit self-harm) to appease angry waves.

Chaos retrograde 2023
The chthonic god­dess of the dark retro­grades twice, first in cur­ious Gem­i­ni, Jan­u­ary to March, feel­ing a bit irked. The sec­ond time, No­vem­ber to De­cem­ber, while in shel­lacked Can­cer, Chaos (1998) is a bit dis­mayed. Irked (cab­in fev­er?) and dis­mayed (food in­secur­ity?) is the “dark majes­ty and mys­tery of crea­tion in­car­nate” be­cause retro­grades can fuck with her well-oiled men­tal health: “a shape­less, un­wrought mass of dis­con­nect­ed ele­ments all heaped to­geth­er in anar­chic dis­array”.

Circe retrograde 2023
Circe (1855) retro­grades from dis­cern­ing Cap­ri­corn in May to a dar­ing Sagit­ta­rius in August. If well-as­pect­ed, the “mis­tress of black magic” on­ly has to go through low-grade self es­teem is­sues; if not, flayed and ex­posed to the ele­ments.

Eris retrograde 2023
During the first retro­grade, begin­ning in Jan­uary, the daugh­ter to Nyx (Night) has man­aged to smoth­er a com­bust­ing Aries, her sib­ling; the battle­field now is acrid. The second time “Abhorred” retro­grades, begin­ning in Sum­mer and again in Aries, she is ready for combat but is frus­trated, surround­ed by green­horns. Eris (2003) orbits the Sun some 8.8 trillion miles (14.28 trillion kilo­meters) away, sport­ing a mantle of white-white panes of iced-methane constant­ly shed­ding miasmas. Under this battle­suit, the greco chaos god­dess is rumored to be a turbu­lent sea planet.

Gonggong retrograde 2023
It is per­haps fortu­nate that this mon­strous water ser­pent goes in and out of retro­grade, for the next fif­teen years, while in dissolv­ing Pisces, because then his tidal-may­hem pat­terns can be gleaned to fore­warn. For 2024, this retro­grade period occurs July through Novem­ber. Gong­gong (2007) is a sino immor­tal, ban­ished to the Scat­tered Disc region of space, gleam­ing in scales stained oxblood-red by ancient tholin, refrac­ting iced flakes of irradi­ated methane.

Hekate retrograde 2023
The god­dess of boun­da­ries, Hekate (1868), has only a brief period, Jan­uary into Feb­ruary, to autopsy a spent domes­tic drama that almost went off the rails, rely­ing on inter­view­ing an aloof Cancer, then a feisty Gemini.

Lempo retrograde 2023
This primal viking love god­dess turned sex-migrant has returned as an easy-going fin­nish nether god, set to retro­grade while in pos­ses­sive Tau­rus, from one-blan­ket Sep­tem­ber to two-blan­kets Decem­ber. If well-aspect­ed, inti­macy takes flight and returns as chivalry; if not, seem­ing­ly sex-shy Lem­po (1999) won’t post­pone his revenge.

Lilith retrograde 2023
The orig­in­al witch” goes retro­grade, in meth­od­i­cal Vir­go, from dor­mant Feb­ru­ary into fecund April. If well-as­pect­ed, the “first wom­an” wears well her veil of old cob­webs, on a quest to re­deem the past; if not, Lilith (1927) is caught red-hand­ed, ped­dling snake oil.

Mars retrograde 2023
Pre­pared­ness and train­ing come to naught as the roman god of war en­ters 2023 trail­ing back­wards in gosh-darn Gem­i­ni. Mars (1534-bce) is to exit retro­grade just elev­en days later, then will spend the rest of the year gin­ning up the troops for an­oth­er campaign.

Zhulong retrograde 2023
A sino solar god begins a retro­grade from wet March to humid July, while in true-blue Scor­pio. Zhu­long (2014) has returned as a humon­gous fire-breath­ing dragon, on a quest to ground fire devils every­where.

     POND    ART
  2023 Rx

Olympia Academy


Apollo retrograde 2023
The god of pure truth” will retro­grade during 2023 back down five zodiac signs, from flower­ing April to fruit­ed July. If well-aspect­ed, Apol­lo (1932) swal­lows his pride, asks for assis­tance; if not, “Shin­ing” is serial­ly kicked out of queen-size Libra, to futon Virgo, then water­bed Cancer, before shack­ing up with sleeping-bag Gemini. The god to foreign­ers is leader of the apollo tribe: a posse of aste­roids pass­ing close enough to Earth to consti­tute a threat.

Chiron retrograde 2023
The wisest cen­taur” turns retro­grade, July 23 through Decem­ber 26, in aus­tere Aries. Chiron (1977) finds that he’s stepped on and cracked a mir­ror. If well-aspect­ed, the hybrid human-horse is given a win­dow of oppor­tunity to try and re-assem­ble the looking-glass; if not, then the hellen­ic “teacher of medi­cine, herbs, music, archery, hunt­ing, and gym­nas­tics” stares into the cracked pieces and is lost in dead-ends. Prone to ankle injuries, Chiron is the first of his kind: a collec­tive of aste­roid bodies with comet tails, on un­stable, chaotic orbits that are influenced tidal­ly by roman sea god Nep­tune. Cen­taur comet PHOLUS (1992) is set to retro­grade, merrie May to soaked Sep­tem­ber, in conser­vative Capri­corn, a sea­son when rest­less and exhaust­ing inept­ness tugs at the centaur tasked with guard­ing his tribe’s wine supply.

Hephaistos retrograde 2023
Set to retro­grade, from molten Aries in Sep­tem­ber to hard­ened Tau­rus dur­ing Decem­ber, Hephaistos (1978) finds time at last to sit down, re­read the rush work order for arma­ments only his forge could devise. The far-flung god of fire­smiths then will realize that he had read wrong. If well-aspect­ed, the god of crafts­men has wasted both time and money; if not, only time will be wasted.

Hebe retrograde 2023
The greco god­dess of youth be­gins the year in the midst of a retro­grade in toothy Leo; this period will end in March, in shy Can­cer. If well-as­pect­ed, Hebe (1847) at­tains an in­sight that comes with a price; if not, the aste­roid wife to aste­roid Her­ac­les spends winter­time res­ur­rect­ing her storms of youth.

Heracles retrograde
Stalled in a han­gry Aries, from rip­ened August to cured No­vem­ber, Her­ac­les (1991) finds ample ex­cuses to put on weight. If well-as­pect­ed, this son of Thebes can cram, as is his wont, and still leave room for a side of diplo­macy; if not, rit­uals of rend­ing and gnaw­ing two or more times a day.

Panacea and Hygiea retrogrades 2023
Challenged to retro­grade in friend­ster Aqua­rius, from warm June to hot Sep­tem­ber, ­ a face­mask should be­come a no-brain­er for Hy­gieagood health” (1849); be­cause. Mean­while, her sis­ter, Pana­ceacura­tive” (1980), gets to spend retro­grade, from open-win­dow Sep­tem­ber to fire­side De­cem­ber, as nurse to a fev­er­ish Aries, dis­pens­ing (one can so hope) bit­ter-tast­ing tea­spoons of re­viv­i­fy­ing san­i­ty.

Mercury retrograde 2023
The first of four retro­grades in 2023 by com­pli­cat­ed crea­tion Mer­cury (265-bc) is over with in the first seven­teen days of 2023, spent in an un­yield­ing Cap­ri­corn.
The sec­ond retro­grade hap­pens from April 21 to May 14 in a no-room-for-er­ror Tau­rus.
The third time, Au­gust 23 to Sep­tem­ber 14 in rosy-cheeked Vir­go, is when the mes­sen­ger of the gods comes to the real­i­za­tion he is over­taxed, and there­fore can­not rec­og­nize him­self in the mir­ror.
During the last time, De­cem­ber 13 to 31, from by-the-book Cap­ri­corn to pro­phet­ic Sagit­ta­rius, the “con­duc­tor of souls” de­lin­e­ates a widen­ing maw.
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There is a hel­len­ic heap of Mer­cury, come back now as an apol­lo aste­roid, who is to retro­grade down four zodiac signs, from in-door Feb­ru­ary to picnic-time July. If well-as­pect­ed, HER­MES (1937) does not hit anyth­ing, any­one; if not, the god who cel­e­brates a birth­day every fourth day of the month is help­less, ping­pong­ing from zany Aqua­rius, in-the-way Cap­ri­corn, jumpy Sagit­ta­rius to don’t-tread-on-me Scor­pio.
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This is a link to see if Mer­cury is cur­rent­ly retro­grade.

Pallas retrograde 2023
The greco-roman god­dess of wis­dom has many names, over­sees many oth­er con­cerns be­sides be­ing the smart­est one in Olym­pus. Then the car­bons start­ed show­ing up, first Pal­las, then Ath­ene, and Min­er­va, join­ing up to be­come a comp­li­cat­ed trip­le-aste­roid god­dess – a be­ing cap­able of mul­ti­ple, and simul­tan­e­ous, retro­grades. The first of the lovely-haired god­dess to ap­pear was Athene (1917), a hel­len­ic shard which then van­ished and was nev­er seen again. The sec­ond piece, a roman-sized rock named Min­er­va (1867), is primed for two retro­grades; the first dur­ing Jan­u­ary in car­ing Can­cer. The sec­ond, from Oct­o­ber to De­cem­ber in a stub­born Tau­rus, pinned to a place of dead roads. The third com­po­nent is al­so the larg­est frag­ment, Pal­las (1802), set to retro­grade in a re­fined Can­cer, Jan­u­ary and Feb­ru­ary, dur­ing a time of need­less neglect.

Terpsichore retrograde 2023
The muse of music is dis­traught by the cur­rent war dance. Terp­si­cho­re (1864) is to retro­grade in polite Pis­ces, from har­vest dance Aug­ust to down-time Sep­tem­ber. If well-as­pect­ed, she suf­fers no fools; if not, the moth­er to the Sirens might be tasked to com­pose an aria for con­flict.

     GARDEN    ART
  2023 Rx

The Underworld


Eurydike retrograde 2023
The dead wife to Or­pheus will retro­grade, from rain­bow-hued Sagit­ta­rius to hell­ish Scor­pio, from warm May un­til sun­tan-lotion July. If well-as­pect­ed, Eury­dike (1862) only copes with a bout of un­ease; if not, she who once had tred on a snake, died, went to the under­world, re-en­acts “prin­cess and the pea” a good several times.

Mors-Somnus retrograde 2023
Roman gods Mors “death” and Som­nus “sleep” share an exis­tence now as a binary be­ing, orbit­ing in the Kui­per Belt and be­hold­en to the grav­i­ta­tion­al guid­ance of Plu­to. Mors-Som­nus (2007) is set to turn retro­grade in ten­sion-fraught Tau­rus, windy Oct­o­ber to stormy Decem­ber, un­able to de­cide on wheth­er to hold a sword or wield a pen.

Orcus retrograde 2023
This infernal im­mor­tal will retro­grade in ex­act­ing Vir­go, from hard­ly wet Jan­u­ary to dry May. If well-as­pect­ed, the “pun­ish­er of broken oaths” might back­slide – and not fling out so many edicts left and right; if not, Orcus (2004) gets mouthy, pon­tif­i­cates, prob­a­bly ends up hav­ing to pay the piper. The proto-roman god of hell had re-sur­faced in­to recent his­tory, oblique in a man­tle of faint tho­lins, en­crust­ed with meth­aned rub­ble dusty with drops of am­mo­nia, and miles-long falls shoot­ing jets of iced crys­tal­line water in­to the sky.

Osiris retrograde 2023
Preferring dark suits and all of 8 miles (13 kilo­meters) wide, Osiris (1960) is an am­bas­sa­dor from the house of Egypt to the Aste­roid Belt. The port­man­teau des­ert dei­ty is to retro­grade, frost­bite Feb­ru­ary to fiery May, down cloud­less Libra to a dap­pled Vir­go. Mean­while, the in­ten­tions of the egyp­tian god of res­ur­rec­tion dur­ing a retro­grade re­mains un­known, locked in silence.

Persephone retrograde 2023
The greco queen of the under­world turns retro­grade in vir­tual Vir­go, Feb­ru­ary to April, inter­rupt­ing a quest for bet­ter days. If well-as­pect­ed, Per­seph­one (1895) only has to re­trace lost months; if not, the daugh­ter to agri­cul­tural god­dess Ceres and rain god Jupi­ter is adrift, be­cause root­less. These days, the wife to Plu­to is al­so the pri­mary seg­ment of a trip­le-space god­dess. There is roman ruin PROSER­PINA (1853), who lives just 373 aste­roids away. And an­tique KORE (2003), orbit­ing Jupi­ter as one of his many moons.

Pluto retrograde 2023
The roman king of the under­world retro­grades, May 1 to Oct­o­ber 10, from the lev­el play­ing field of Aqua­rius to the rocky ruts of Cap­ri­corn. For the rest of the year, a de­natured dance has been on-go­ing. If well-as­pect­ed, Pluto (1930) gets part­nered with man­u­fac­tured con­sent; if not, the “god with no name” takes on all part­ners.

Typhon retrograde 2023
The sire to the four direc­tion­al winds turns retro­grade, cloudy March to clear-sky July, while in tri-formed Scor­pio. If well-as­pect­ed, Typhon (2002) stays curled up in­side a malev­o­lent mouth; if not, the “ser­pent su­preme” can­not wait to greet spring equi­nox with a syringe of nas­ti­ness. Typhon is paired with a moon-mate, the snake Echid­na (2006); they are now a binary be­ing in the Scat­tered Disc.



  LUNAR ZODIAC 
Vessel in the form of a hare, Levant, 6400-5900 BC.
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The water rabbit is somewhat conventional, and definitely delicate. A chatty introvert riven with a fantasy love life, living a life while flayed open, subject to exquisite pain, or pleasure.




-|  September 2023  |-

 

  BIRTH OF THE CABLE CAR 

Prototype of the final design for San Francisco's cable car.
THE FINISHED PROTOTYPE, with a driver’s cab at either end, appeared on the California Street Line in 1899. Trams “... were decorated using scrollwork and gold trim, with ornate glass transoms and, for paint, maroon and cream.
Beast of Burden
How San Fran­cis­co’s cable car came to be built will re­quire more than one stop on its tell­ing, wend­ing this way and that, and pass­ing land­marks of wealth and waste. 1869 ad for a horse-drawn carriage company.
Before the cable car, the task for get­ting to Nob Hill was rel­e­gated to pay­ing for a ride in a horse-drawn cab. On Octo­ber 11, 1869, this nec­es­sary yet wan­ton civic cruel­ty of us­ing ani­mals as beasts of bur­den changed for the good. The San Fran­cis­co Chron­i­cle had a front page arti­cle on the death of a wretch. It took place when a horse final­ly lost it on Cali­for­nia Street and, throt­tled, dragged down to its death.
Horse-drawn public transportation.
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When Andrew Hal­li­die read this, he paused and paced his in­ner office, re­flect­ing on what if any­thing he could learn from this. Hal­li­die was already pros­pe­rous, although not yet famous. He had in­heri­ted a com­pa­ny from his father. The sen­ior Hal­li­die had inv­ent­ed and then patent­ed a “steel cable”: strands of wire lined up and brai­ded into a rope that was super strong, and proved in­dis­pens­able in the gold fields and gold mines.
1848 ad for gold mining tools.
1872 ad for the Clay St Hill Ralway Co. Hallidie took on a failed con­cern: to build a con­vey­ance cap­a­ble of con­quer­ing the city‘s hills. He bought the Clay Street Hill Rail­way Co., and by May 1873 had built tracks and a cable as­sem­bly up Clay from Ports­mouth Square to Nob Hill, a ver­ti­cal climb of seven blocks.
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1873 cable car ticket.
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Early on August 2 1873, a proto­type was in place and, lantern-lit, Hal­li­die stepped on board. Acti­vat­ing a grip lever on­to a mov­ing cable, he as­cen­ded on that peril-prone mai­den voy­age. Few were awake to wit­ness, yet by open­ing day on Sep­tem­ber 1, the ser­vice was in de­mand. In 1880 over one mil­lion tic­kets were sold.
Locomotive Landmark
The first cable cars were tiny trams pow­ered by a patent­ed grip that alter­nate­ly holds, and releases, a con­tin­u­ous­ly mov­ing steel cable run­ning under the street. Power is sup­plied by huge drums housed at near­by power stations along the route. 1877 photo of dummy and trailer set-up.
The tram oper­a­tor is sta­tioned for­ward of the tram. He em­ploys the grip grabs and holds on to the mov­ing cable, the tram al­so moves. When grip is re­leased, tram stops, even on a hill, us­ing a gear inven­tion pre­vent­ing slip­page. Be­sides the tram oper­a­tor (grip­man) is the con­ductor.
The San Francisco cable car became a state registered landmark in 1877.
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Andrew Smith Halli­die was born on March 17, 1837 in Lon­don, to An­drew Smith (b.1798 Dum­frie­shire, Scot­land) and Julia John­stone (Locker­bie). He died April 24 1900, in San Fran­cis­co. Six years later his cable car system would survive the 1906 Earth­quake.
1880 postcard of a Naples cable car. Cable cars then sprouted world­wide, from New York to Hong Kong. Naples crowned its open­ing by com­mis­sion­ing a song, “Funiculi, Funi­cula.”
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1917 Hallidie Building.
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In 1917, Andrew Smith Hallidie had an inno­va­tive build­ing named for him. The Hal­li­die Build­ing (the architect is Wil­lis Polk) has a facade rising eight stories and sheathed in glass.
City of Cubes
When news of the dis­cov­ery of gold in Cali­for­nia trav­eled back east, the brawn and brains of a young nation came west­ward, where notions of Free­dom waltzed hand-in-glove with great­ness as well as greed. 1848 California Gold Rush.
Accord­ingly, access from the gold mines to San Fran­cisco were sur­veyed. Roads, bridges and tracks were built wher­ever gold was found, with way­sta­tions estab­lished for res­pite and re­cre­ation. The min­ing meth­ods these men brought with them quick­ly evolved to meet the chal­lenges posed by the Com­stock Lode and its trib­u­ta­ries.
Philipp and Mrs Deidesheimer.
 The Deidesheimers
1860 Deidesheimer Square Set drawing.
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The Indus­trial Rev­o­lu­tion cre­a­ted tools used in sci­en­tific pre­ci­sion­ing, al­low­ing in­no­va­ted mod­els to be test­ed and prof­it­ably man­u­fac­tured. Among these ideas was the in­ge­nuous “square set” cre­a­ted by ger­man en­gi­neer Philipp Deide­shei­mer. Grey Brechin picks up the um­bil­i­cal cord:
1860 Deidesheimer Square Set mdel.
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The Square Set intro­duced meth­ods of con­struc­tion. Deide­shei­mer’s gift went from con­struct­ing safe­ty zones to con­duct the back­break­ing busi­ness of min­ing into oth­er uses, in­clud­ing the abil­i­ty of a grid of steel beams and col­umns to al­low sup­port for more height.
1870 Equitable Life Assurance Building NYC. “Sky­scraper” came into usage in the 1880s; Amer­i­ca had fif­teen. These build­ings us­ual­ly came w/ mod­ern plumb­ing, elec­tri­cal out­lets in every room, a tele­phone line in every unit, cen­tral heat­ing, and an ele­vator.
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1870 Jayne Building Philadelphia and 1885 Home Insurance building Chicago. 1990 space elevator
❛ … NASA took a fresh look at the steel cable in light of a super ma­te­rial, car­bon nano­tube ... uber-strong, light and flex­i­ble. “Space Ele­vators: An Ad­vanced Earth-Space Infra­struc­ture for the New Mil­len­ium” is the feas­i­bil­i­ty paper of this new science, to erect a track run­ning on cables, from here to the Moon, a jour­ney of some 62,000 miles.❜ — Meghan Neal, February 28 2014.

Andrew Smith Hallidie 1837-1900
CABLE CAR NOTES
| Based on San Fran­cisco’s Golden Era by Lucius Beebe and Charles Clego (1060); Cable Car Days in San Fran­cisco by Edgar Myron Kahn (1940); The Head­light, March 1947, Western Pacific Club; Imperial San Fran­cisco: Urban Power, Earthly Ruin by Gray Brechin (1999); and on­line articles by Mary Bellis (“The History of Sky­scrapers”), Karen Barss (“Man­hat­tan’s Golden Age of Sky­scrapers”), and Meghan Neal (“Space Ele­vators Are Total­ly Pos­sible”) | A 1959 epi­sode of TV series Bonanza fea­tures a Phil­ipp Dei­de­shei­mer plot point. | Thank you Taryn Ed­wards, MLIS, Mechan­ics’ Institute. | Thank you Penelope Houston, SF Public Library.