What Bleu Noticed First

October 22, 2026
Owl Feather Farm, San Juan Island

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bleu, guardian of the dog pasture, and I take my job here seriously.

This morning the fog sat low over False Bay, and a ferry horn came through it, muffled and slow. I lifted my head to listen. Simon did not, because Simon was busy rearranging himself in the grass.

That was when I noticed it. The farm has a different feel this week, a held breath, the way a room feels before someone important walks in. It was the first thing I noticed. The first thing Simon noticed was his own tail.

What Bleu Noticed First
Bleu's the guardian, but Simon's trying to learn

Where We Keep Watch

From our pasture, nothing happens on this farm without us noticing. We can see the orchard dropping its last apples, the barn door, the studio, and the gravel path where the humans come and go with their coffee cups.

The horses keep watch too, from their own side of the fence. Lil’ CoCo Nut drifts over and puts his nose through the rails to see what we’re up to. Cereus stays back and takes the long view, looking over and down like a judge reviewing a case. Four of us, four different angles, and the farm is only fully understood when we all compare what we’ve seen.

A Few Dates, If You Care for Them

The humans have been talking about the sky, so I listened. On Friday, the Sun moves into Scorpio, a sign of depth and quiet digging. The very next day, Mercury, the planet of messages, begins its backward stretch, which people say is a good time to revisit and review rather than rush ahead. Then on Sunday evening comes the Hunter’s Moon, full and enormous over the water.

I’m a dog, so I don’t need a calendar to tell me when something is off. I know when a voice says one thing and the shoulders say another. I know when “I’m fine” doesn’t match the face. We read all of it, all day, and we don’t need an explanation.

Moving With Attention

Whatever the season, the studio runs on the same idea: The body does its best work when it’s paying attention. Autumn is a fine time to practice that, because the cooler air makes it easier to feel what’s happening inside a movement.

Here’s something to try. Choose one movement you do every day, like standing up, reaching for a shelf, or climbing steps. This week, notice how it begins, where it feels easy, and where it catches. You don’t have to change anything. Noticing is the practice.

What Bleu Noticed First
A fine fall day—all good in the horse paddock

What Lives Underneath

Scorpio season is about the layer below the surface. Beneath the fallen leaves, the soil is quietly turning everything into next year’s growth. It’s slow and unseen, but it’s the most important work on the farm.

If something has been stirring in you, a worry or a habit or a question you keep avoiding, this is a gentle time to look at it. Go slowly, the way you’d enter a dark barn, and let your eyes adjust before you decide what you see.

Advice From a Dog

Here is what I’d offer for the weeks ahead, to people and animals alike:

• Talk less, and mean what you say.

• If something comes across wrong, try again, kindly.

• Ask the one you live with how they are, then really wait.

• Watch your animal’s body. It has probably been telling you something for days.

Very little of what passes between us is spoken. It’s in how someone stands, how near they sit, and the moment they lean in. Animals speak this language fluently, and so can you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, Simon has started grumbling at the fence line. I need to find out whether it’s nothing.

It’s usually something. -Nicollé Lucas

Nicollé offers private sessions at Owl Feather Healing on San Juan Island; for more information contact her at .

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