As the sun sinks and the clouds turn a fevered, rustic shade of orange, Aquarius, you find yourself drawn to the ancient whispers of your ancestral roots. There’s an eerie calm in the air; the moon hangs low, as if held by the leafless bough of a whispering willow that has watched seasons turn for centuries. The crickets serenade the night, their melody disturbed by the occasional hoot of an owl. You are urged to call upon your elemental spirit of air to keep your mind clear amidst the fog of uncertainty that creeps upon your path.

A disquietude within the natural world seems to mirror itself onto your quiet nature, dear water-bearer. Family and friends will seem distant and fleeting like phantoms in the mist. The barn owl, your spirit guide, calls for you to remain vigilant, eyes wide open even in the deepest gloom. In the maze of scarecrows bent grotesquely under the weight of time that lines your path, beware of straying from the familiar. Rely on your intuition to decipher the cryptic sighs of the wind brushing through the cornfield, for amid the ancient stone circles and whispering woods, not everything is what it appears to be.