It's Beautiful, Whatever It's Called

I heard on the radio today that tonight's full moon is supposed to be the biggest one of the year, because the moon is at the point in its orbit when it's closest to the earth. I just happened to catch a glimpse of the moon out of the corner of my eye as I was cooking supper. It had just risen and was hanging heavy and orange over Tater Hill. I took a moment to go outside and just look at it. (Sorry the photo's a little blurry. I tried to use the zoom to bring the moon closer, ha ha.)



According to the Farmers' Almanac, Native Americans had a name for each full moon of the year. December's moon, the almanac said, could be called the "Cold Moon" or the "Long Nights Moon." It makes a lot of sense. I can't help thinking about our ancestors who didn't know about the orbit or the varying distance of the moon from the earth, but who looked up at the big, bright moon on a cold night in December, one of the longest nights of the year. Were they glad to have the moon's silvery light during those long hours of cold and dark?