Uranus Leaves Taurus: A Gift From the Wreckage (2018–2026)

Uranus leaves Taurus on April 25, 2026, ending an 8-year transit that began in May 2018 and moves on into Gemini for the next seven years. If you have Taurus prominent in your natal chart — sun, moon, rising, or a key placement — the Uranus in Taurus transit likely shook your foundations in ways you never could have predicted.

In this Coffee & Cosmos episode, I'm sharing the full story of what Uranus in Taurus did to my fourth house of home and family between 2018 and 2026, and the unexpected gifts that emerged from the wreckage. This is astrology in real life: personal, messy, honest. Grab your coffee.

Prefer to watch? Here's the video version of this story. 

Uranus in Taurus Hit My Fourth House Hard

The only good thing the transit of Uranus through Taurus did was bring me my cat Bobie and my new apartment. Shenanigans is too polite a word for what Uranus did tearing up my fourth house of home and family since 2018. Yeah, shit show is more like it. The last thing Taurus ever really wants is change. But with Uranus, you've got no choice. In this post, I'm going to share several stories of how Uranus is going to Uranus whatever house it's transiting in your natal chart.

As your anti-doom, no BS astrologer, even I was shocked by the extent of the Uranus in Taurus havoc visited upon my fourth house. Looking back on the last seven years of this series of unfortunate events — when you have Taurus as your fourth house, you expect your roots to grow deep and stay there. But not when Uranus is tearing a hurricane-sized hole in your heart with lightning bolts that make the Tower card in tarot look quaint. Because that was the first thing that happened.

Hurricane Florence: The First Uranus in Taurus Upheaval

Hurricane Florence hit Wilmington, North Carolina with something like over 35 inches of rain in September 2018. Don't quote me on that, but it was a lot. Fish rose up from the Cape Fear River to take over the entirety of I-40. Never in my 17 years of living there up to that point had I ever evacuated for a hurricane. I just rode it out.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, very Uranus, I was packing up all my favorite tarot decks, notebooks, journals, clothes, and of course, the cats — Arielle and Budgie — for the long drive to Vermont, where my very gracious, lovely aunt took me in for two weeks. Have you ever had to do that? Trying to decide in a few hours what you'd be lost without and cram it into the back of your car before leaving your home, not knowing if you'd have one to return to.

When Lightning Literally Struck My Fourth House

The following summer of 2019, it was a "basic" North Carolina afternoon thunderstorm. Basic, which actually means the weather can be kind of intense: lots of thunder, lots of lightning, downpour rain.

I was sitting in my living room drinking coffee when I felt that weird drop in barometric air pressure right before you know something bad is going to go down with the weather. You feel that kind of pause in the air — the space between electricity of lightning charging the atmosphere and then boom, hitting its target.

In this case, the target was the metal cap on my chimney, and the lightning traveled down into my house. I was sitting right across from the fireplace when all this happened. Fuses blew. My internet box was toast. My hot water heater electrics were also fried. No hot water for over 10 days after that until I could get it fixed.

In the middle of this crazy storm, I actually ran outside to see if my house was on fire. Thankfully, it was not. Then I was speed-dialing my aunt, whose husband is an ex-firefighter. "Skip, could there be a fire in the walls?" And he said, "If you're not smelling wire burning, you're probably okay." Thankfully, no fire in the walls, no fire in the electrics. At least Uranus cut me a break and didn't burn my house down.

Losing Budgie: Uranus in Taurus Takes a Beloved Cat

That December 2019, suddenly, as Uranus often does, another calamity came to my door. My dear brown striped tabby boy, out of nowhere, was in kidney failure out of the blue. Typical Uranus lightning bolt. One day Budgie was fine. The next day I was rushing him to the vet where he was spiking a devastating fever and in full kidney shutdown.

No rhyme, no reason to it at all. Beloved furry family member cut down in the prime of his life. He was a little over three years old. Arielle (my other cat) literally held my hand as I sat at my desk and cried — she knew. I had gotten Budgie when he was only six weeks old, and she had been a mama to him. She was a good mama, too.

Change is the name of the game with Uranus. He's not content unless he's spiking the air with thunderbolts and wreaking havoc. Once he's satisfied his itch to blow up your life, he takes a break. The light goes out. He takes a long nap during his retrograde. Then bam, he's back — like a bad ex always showing up asking for a ride, a favor, money they'll never pay back. And you're still trying to clean up the last mess.

The Commercial Rezoning That Forced Me Out of My Home

The next time Uranus pulled his crap, it came in the form of a letter from a commercial real estate company inviting me and the rest of my neighbors on our street to a community meeting held in the open air at a park — because back then it was COVID — to discuss, or rather inform us, that the barely one acre of property behind our street, behind our houses, was now going to be developed.

A drive-thru bank was going to be put on a parcel of land that, like I said, was barely an acre. A drive-thru bank with its loudspeakers and beeping noises and car exhaust — all within 10 feet of where I sat every day in the back of my house in my office to do my readings for clients and for this YouTube channel. Even Bobie was agitated.

There was still a chance that the town zoning board would not approve the rezoning. But I surmise, allegedly, perhaps just my opinion, that there were some financial kickbacks and greasing of palms with Benjamins. Because yeah, the rezoning got approved. And Uranus just laughed in a corner drinking a beer and smirking, saying, "And hey — I hit your house with a hurricane, then with a literal lightning bolt, and now a commercial rezoning. How many times, girl, do I have to tell you and show you? Get out now."

Five months later, I made the very painful decision to sell the house where I had lived for the last 20 years, where I really thought I was going to live the next 20 years. But Uranus had other plans.

Uranus in Taurus Kept Going: Dad's Dementia and Another Sudden Move

Timelines accelerated. My father had been exhibiting signs of dementia, and finally in early 2022, we managed to get him tested after much resistance. Then we had another house to pack up — his — and get him relocated to my sister's. There was another shocking turn of events that is just too personal and too painful to detail here. And within a weekend, I found myself unexpectedly moving states to be near my father and sister in the autumn of 2022.

Then more shocks and upheavals as my father's dementia worsened. He had varying health crises and doctor's appointments that I often took him to. And one day he literally ran away. He got kind of far from the house. He fell into a ditch. Nobody knew where he was. Luckily, a good Samaritan found him and took him to a fire station, and they managed to figure out where he lived — because sure as heck with his dementia, he couldn't tell them. But they figured it out thankfully.

Losing Arielle and My Father in 2024

Then in 2024, my heart broke again. I lost my cat Arielle in April. She had been through all the stories I've just told you — and like I said, literally held my hand through some of them. All cats are special, but she was extra special, what some might call a "soul kitty."

And then the death of my father in October 2024.

Thankfully, I was there for both of those crossings over. It really is a gift. No matter how hard it is, that is a gift. But it felt like Uranus just kept taking and taking and taking away my sense of stability and security. Two more beloveds — Arielle and my dad — gone from my family.

Bobie: The Gift From the Wreckage of Uranus in Taurus

In the midst of my grief over Arielle's loss — she was barely 9 years old, just one week after she turned nine, from her devastatingly quick (again, Uranus-quick) intestinal lymphoma — Mr. Bobie stepped up in his calm loving Taurus way. Because Bobie too was going through a tough transit of Uranus in Taurus.

His whole identity had been as a solo cat. My sister had him for 10 years. But when she got married, her partner came with dogs — and big dogs. When those dogs passed, there were two of them. They were sweet, but they were big. Then came three more big dogs — rambunctious but very sweet Labradoodle, golden doodle type dogs.

Poor chubby Bobie was running his chubby Taurus butt all over the house trying to escape from the very enthusiastic Labradoodles. He spent a lot of time in his window perch looking outside at the birds like a Roman stoic — calm but alone. My sister works very long hours, and her partner too. A lot of the time Bobie was an afterthought. There just wasn't enough time to spend with him. He was loved, of course, but he wasn't worshiped. And that's what cats really want.

So in my grief over Arielle in April 2024, I asked if I could borrow Bobie. I had never spent the last 30 years without a cat by my side. I didn't want to get a replacement too fast for Arielle because there is no replacing her. But in my grief, I really didn't trust my judgment that I would choose the right cat. We know they really do choose us, don't they? They really do.

And so Bobie and I began our sudden and unexpected life together in April 2024, just a few days before his birthday. He's a Taurus. Our bond has deepened since then, and he is a true auntie boy.

Typical Taurus — he loves his routines. We brush him every morning, followed by a Delectable. Some mornings we sit out on the balcony together, and I put him in his little cat play pen while I drink coffee and do my journaling. He always demands to sit in my lap for at least a little bit. He has a little window perch and a bed there. He loves to take a nap in the afternoon in his window. At night, he watches TV with me. He sits right beside me and turns his little face toward the screen, and he does those slow cat blinks to let me know all is okay.

And all is okay. I suppose it is.

Home Again: After Uranus Leaves Taurus

At the end of this hellacious Uranus transit through my fourth house of Taurus, I'm back where I belong in a brand new space with a view of pine trees and Carolina blue sky. It's great.

I found out that they're not building a bank behind my old house anymore. I just found this out recently. The plans got revised. Now they're building two buildings. Can you imagine? My heart broke a little. It really did — when I saw all the majestic pine trees they cleared from that one tiny acre behind my former house. Those pine trees always felt like protectors. They made me feel very secure with them there. They buffered the noise of the traffic from the main road behind me. And they gave lots of shade in the summer. And now they're gone.

My house and living there is now a memory. My beloved cats are a memory. And my father also, boy — a memory.

It's hard to try and tie up this story in some sort of neat little sound bite of wisdom.

Ultimately, I believe in the power of regeneration — of planting seeds to begin again, to grow new roots. A fourth house Taurus wouldn't have it any other way. And neither would chubby Taurus boy Bobie, who has rooted his big paws right into my heart. Bobie was a gift among the wreckage of Uranus going through my fourth house. This apartment is a gift among the wreckage — a place where we both love our morning routines and evening TV time. And out of such moments, we begin our lives again.

What Did Uranus in Taurus Do in Your Life?

I know I am not the only one who experienced the hellacious transit of Uranus through Taurus with its many upheavals, shocks, and chaos. If you feel like it, share your story in the comments. You truly are not alone in whatever you went through.

Maybe at some point in the future, there will be some wisdom that comes looking back on all the upheaval of this particular transit. Maybe then there will be a sound bite of wisdom that I can share with you. 

It's important that we share our stories of astrology in real life. Because sometimes astrology gets very textbook. It's very intellectual. But it affects our hearts. It affects our souls. It affects our lives.

And it's fascinating to me, even during a chaotic upsetting transit, to see how we make it through — how we weather the storm, how we survive, and then how we thrive.