Moon Over The Mountain

Day 44: You have to understand that in the Pacific Northwest, you don't usually get opportunities to view celestial events or, for that matter, to observe a blue sky, so when this spectacular combination presented itself through my living room window, I grabbed the camera without thinking twice. Plunging through a tangle of chest-high snowberry bushes intermixed with dry blackberry vines, I picked up a few thorns en route to a position which avoided power lines, poles, fence posts and a significantly ugly display of political statement mounted on a truck parked mid-pasture, and managed to make it in and out of the maze without tripping on the frost-slick ground. It was at great hazard to life and limb that I made this photograph for you when I could just as easily have generated it with open-source AI. Apparently, there's a lot of that going on right now. It will never happen here. I promise you that.

False Eclipse

Day 156: The not-quite-full Moon underwent a penumbral eclipse night before last, and since seeing the Moon in any phase at this time of year is a relative rarity in the Pacific Northwest, I decided to do a photo shoot. Now I know you're itching to correct me, but yes, I know that eclipses only occur when the Moon is full. However, as in "penultimate," the prefix "pen-" denotes something one step away from completeness, i.e., one short of "ultimate," or "not total/totality." Indeed, the Moon was being eclipsed by cloud (a perfectly legitimate use of the word), but not completely. There was enough moonlight to illuminate puffs of cloud surrounding the lunar disk even as the thicker stuff moved across our celestial night-light's face. This, of course, compels a burning question: do werewolves suffer mood-swings when the full Moon passes in and out of cloud, or do they hover in a mid-state, neither man nor beast? It does not seem an unreasonable thing to ponder, given all else going on in the growing darkness of our world.

Solstice Greetings

Day 80: As a creature of the seasonal calendar, I celebrate festivals of a different sort: the Solstices and Equinoxes, the appearance of Pussywillows, the First Day of Skunk Cabbage and of course September Morn. Many do not have a set date, a fact which lends them an element of surprise lacking in traditional observances. Wild Ginger comes when it will, on a schedule all its own, and the Grosbeaks arrive on a timetable so complex that the human mind cannot hope to understand it. There are, however, those milestones in the year which occur at a specific second, if on a rotation of days, and none is more significant than Winter Solstice. Winter Solstice brings renewal in character of Light. Imperceptible at first, within ten days or two weeks, the lengthening of daylight is noticeable to anyone attuned to the progression of the seasons. By mid-January, it is apparent to all but the dullest eye.

For many people, Solstice may be associated with a physical element, whether man-made (Stonehenge, for example) or natural. From my vantage point, the Solstice Moon rises behind Mount Rainier, a perfectly magical conjuncture should the weather permit it to be seen.

Celebrate with me the Returning of the Light!
Dance the holly,
Dance the mistletoe!
The Light is now returning
And dark nights quickly go.