(As interpreted through the stars… AI…and maybe a few outdated legal treatises.)
🔮 Overall Celestial Vibe
Summer 2026 opens mid-Mercury retrograde in Cancer — a water sign of memory, instinct, and the stubborn conviction that the way we’ve always done it is probably fine. The retrograde clears on July 23, just in time for AALL’s Annual Meeting in Cleveland (July 18–21). August brings the season’s most dramatic energy: back-to-back eclipses on the 12th and 27th, shaking loose what’s been quietly overdue for change. September carries back-to-school energy; October arrives with budget season and a second Mercury retrograde in Scorpio beginning October 24. This season asks three questions: What is worth preserving? What needs to be documented before it disappears? And is your out-of-office message really specific enough to discourage the truly persistent?
♈ Aries (March 21 – April 19) ♈
Affirmation: I act with intention, and I back up my notes before Mercury does something unfortunate.
Summer opens mid-Mercury retrograde in Cancer — a fitting metaphor for every “quick question” that turns into a forty-minute deep dive through secondary sources you didn’t know existed. The retrograde clears on July 23, just in time to show up sharp at AALL in Cleveland (July 18–21); arrive with business cards, comfortable shoes, and a firm policy on how many tote bags is too many. Eclipse season in August ignites your research instincts — trust your gut when a citation smells wrong, because it almost certainly is. Fall brings new momentum, new associates, and fresh opportunities to explain what a law librarian actually does.
♉ Taurus (April 20 – May 20) ♉
Affirmation: I do not cancel the database subscription without a committee meeting, a usage report, and a full cost-benefit analysis.
You thrive when systems are stable, Taurus, which makes Mercury retrograde in Cancer a personal affront — especially when your ILS decides to act up in solidarity. When the retrograde lifts on July 23, resist the urge to immediately reorganize everything at once; pace yourself. August’s back-to-back eclipses (solar on the 12th, lunar on the 27th) shake loose something you’ve been holding onto, possibly a vendor contract that has been “under review” since the last fiscal year. Trust that the disruption is clearing space for better terms — and make sure to pay careful attention to the terms of that one multi-year license.
♊ Gemini (May 21 – June 20) ♊
Affirmation: I follow up. I document. I create the paper trail.
Your natural habitat is the all-hands meeting where you’re the only one who read the agenda in advance and took notes during it. AALL in Cleveland is tailor-made for you — panels, hallway conversations, and at least one Birds of a Feather session that runs fifteen minutes over because no one wants to stop talking. When Mercury retrograde ends on July 23, your communication clarity surges; use that August solar eclipse energy to finally draft the research guide you’ve been composing in your head since February. Write it down, Gemini. It does not count if it only lives in your head.
♋ Cancer (June 21 – July 22) ♋
Affirmation: My institutional memory is a gift, even when no one has thought to ask for it yet.
Mercury retrograde began in your sign on June 29, which means summer has opened with your carefully organized workflows being mysteriously questioned by people who were not present when you built them. When it stations direct on July 23, exhale — then immediately back up everything, just in case. The August lunar eclipse illuminates a professional partnership that deserves more recognition than it gets; someone has been noticing your work even if their preferred method of requesting research is a four-word email sent at 4:58 pm. September rewards your quiet, consistent stewardship in ways that are deeply satisfying even when they don’t appear on the annual report.
♌ Leo (July 23 – August 22) ♌
Affirmation: I am the resource. I am the finding aid. I am not, however, IT support.
The Sun enters your sign just as Mercury stations direct — consider that your cosmic permission slip to be visible in ways you’ve earned. The solar eclipse on August 12 falls squarely in your season, making this a rare moment for professional reinvention of the bold, declarative variety. Whether that means proposing a new service model, finally saying yes to chairing a CALL committee, or simply insisting that your name appear correctly in the firm directory, this eclipse favors those who show up and speak up. Channel your considerable energy into something with documentation; the stars are watching, and so is the accreditation committee.
♍ Virgo (August 23 – September 22) ♍
Affirmation: I distinguish between “good enough to publish” and “good enough to exist indefinitely in the shared drive.”
Virgo season brings the annual ritual of back-to-school preparation, and no one rises to this occasion quite like you. The full moon on September 26 spotlights your meticulous work on orientation materials, research guides, and that table of contents you have now edited four times — twice before coffee. Eclipse season in August may have felt chaotic; consider it the universe’s way of generating revision opportunities. Mercury retrograde returning in late October is practically your element: you were already planning to review everything anyway, and now you have celestial cover.
♎ Libra (September 23 – October 22) ♎
Affirmation: I advocate for my budget line with the grace of a diplomat and the tenacity of a litigator.
The solar eclipse in August lights up your professional networks — connections made or renewed at AALL in Cleveland may prove more valuable than they first appear, so follow up before September. As Libra season arrives, so does fiscal year reckoning, and you are uniquely equipped for the conversation ahead. Your natural diplomacy and eye for balance make you well-suited to the budget conversation — whether that means making the case for a new resource or gracefully sunsetting one that’s no longer earning its keep. One logistical note: Mercury retrograde begins in Scorpio on October 24, so get the contracts signed before the 24th — you have been warned by the stars and now also by this horoscope.
♏ Scorpio (October 23 – November 21) ♏
Affirmation: I know where the bodies are buried. I have documented the chain of custody.
The August eclipses stir something deep in your professional foundations — an archival project long deferred, a policy in desperate need of revision, or the institutional knowledge that currently lives in exactly one person’s head (yours). Eclipse season rewards your instinct for finding what others miss; trust it. Mercury stations retrograde in your sign on October 24, calling you to revisit what’s been left unfinished. This is not a setback — it is the universe firmly suggesting that you write the procedure manual before you become the only person who knows how anything works. You already know it needs to happen.
♐ Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21) ♐
Affirmation: I attend the conference session even when the title sounds like a stretch — that’s usually the one that changes everything.
AALL in Cleveland was practically designed for you: new ideas, sweeping visions, and at least three conversations that begin with “has your library tried…” and end forty-five minutes later with you holding three business cards and a genuine lead. The solar eclipse in August calls you to translate that conference inspiration into actual implementation before it becomes another dead link in a browser tab you’ll close in November. Budget season in fall asks you to ground your enthusiasm in specific line items, which is everyone’s least favorite part of having good ideas. You can do it, Sagittarius. The stars believe in your ability to write a budget justification.
♑ Capricorn (December 22 – January 19) ♑
Affirmation: I will document this process before I go on vacation — so help me.
Summer’s relative quiet is peak productivity season for you, Capricorn, and you know it. While others are booking beach vacations, you are blocking off uninterrupted time to tackle the projects that require actual sustained thought: policy revisions, procedure documentation, the collection development plan that has lived in “Draft” since Q1. The August eclipses reward sustained effort with tangible results, and the full moon on September 26 seals a milestone you have been working toward since winter. October brings budget season, which you approach not with dread but with a spreadsheet you started updating in July. Obviously.
♒ Aquarius (January 20 – February 18) ♒
Affirmation: I propose the innovative solution. I also attend the meeting where we table it until next quarter.
Eclipse season activates your visionary side — expect bold ideas about service design, AI-assisted research workflows, or that open-access initiative you have been quietly evangelizing for two years. The challenge, as ever, is bringing colleagues along at a pace that doesn’t require a full organizational change management plan just to update one LibGuide. August’s solar eclipse is a green light for a pilot project with a clearly scoped timeline and defined success metrics — which, yes, you should put in writing. By fall, you’ll have data, a presentation, and the quiet satisfaction of having been right before it was obvious.
♓ Pisces (February 19 – March 20) ♓
Affirmation: I read the room, I read the brief, and I am the last line of defense against citations to cases that exist only in an AI’s imagination.
Mercury retrograde in Cancer at summer’s opening has you revisiting old requests, old guides, and one reference interaction from March that has been living rent-free in your head ever since. By August’s eclipse season, you are ready to release it — all of it, including that one form that has not been updated since 2019 and that everyone uses anyway. Back-to-school energy in September draws on your instinct for what patrons actually need: not what they say they need in the initial email, not what they clarify in the follow-up, but what they truly need, which is a forty-five-minute research consultation and a LibGuide they will bookmark but never open again.
About the author
Ariel Scotese is Associate Director for User Services at D’Angelo Law at the University of Chicago.