Yesterday, early in the evening but still an hour after the sun had set, Rissy and I enjoyed a little star gazing. The sky was exceptionally clear and resplendent with innumerable stars (hence the immediate commencement of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star"), and a very bright full moon. We then stood quiet for a moment and felt the aliveness of the earth: there was no wind but the leaves in the trees were rustling slightly, a couple of late season crickets sang strongly, and the moonbeams poured incandescent light over the landscape that was so bright it cast shadows. The air was still but life so present and tangible.
The Farmer's Almanac states that this month's moon is usually known as the Hunter's Moon. I find a couple of the American Indian epithets a little more interesting. The Algonquins from the northeastern coast called it the Moon of White Frost on Grass, and the Lakota of the northern plains preferred Moon When the Wind Shakes Off Leaves. How poetic and descriptive were these peoples labeled "primitive"?
(This photograph was actually taken about 6:30 am in the previous month of September during the rarity which was a full moon on the Autumnal equinox. This event won't occur again til 2029).
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