Saturday and Sundry Thoughts

Has anyone noticed that the Sun has quietly slipped out of heat-drenched Leo into what will, I hope, turn out to be an ever so slightly cooler, better presented stint in zodiac sign Virgo?

Speaking of Virgo, Ogden Nash, a favourite writer of mine, once wrote a piece of poetry which, all unknowingly by the author (I guess) was a pretty accurate description of someone with a hefty dose of Virgo in their natal chart - not just the Sun in Virgo though. A true, recognisable Virgo-type needs strong natal emphasis on the sign in order to advertise clearly its attributes. A cluster of planets in the sign, particularly the personal planets (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars) would do it. Virgo on the ascendant angle or angle opposite, or at mid-heaven or nadir of the chart would provide even more emphasis.

Here's what Ogden Nash wrote about a true Virgo-type, possibly without realising what he'd done. I suspect he was describing his wife, a friend, or a colleague!

A Stitch Too Late Is My Fate
by Ogden Nash

There are some people of whom I would certainly like to be one,
Who are the people who get things done.
They balance their checkbooks every month and their figures
always agree with the bank's,
And they are prompt in writing letters of condolence or thanks.
They never leave anything to chance,
But always make reservations in advance.
When they get out of bed they never neglect to don slippers
so they never pick up athlete's foot or a cold or a splinter,
And they hang their clothes up on hangers every night and
put their winter clothes away every summer
and their summer clothes away every winter.
Before spending any money they insist on getting
an estimate or a sample,
And if they lose anything from a shoelace to a diamond ring
it is covered by insurance more than ample.
They have budgets and what is more they live inside of them,
Even though it means eating things made by recipes
clipped from the Sunday paper that you'd think they would have died from them.
They serve on committees
And improve their cities
They are modern knight errants
Who remember their godchildren's birthdays and the anniversaries
of their godchildren's parents,
And in cold weather they remember the birds and supply them with
sunflower seed and suet,
And whatever they decide to do, whether it's to save
twentyfive percent of their salary or learn Italian or write a musical comedy or touch their toes a hundred times every morning before breakfast,
why they go ahead and do it.
People who get things done lead contented lives, or at least I guess so,
And I certainly wish that either I were more like them or they were less so.