Imagine the countless generations that have viewed, in awe, the full moon in October.
On October 7th, we will view the Harvest Moon. The American Indians referred to the full October moon as the Hunter's Moon while some, as the Moon of the Falling Leaves.
The cold is deeply settling in and the air is crisp and clean in my lungs. This time of year brings forth a feeling of deep mysticism. The feeling is not unique. It is rather universal. All Hallow's Eve is a time when the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest according country lore. One could readily agree tonight.
I look to nature for sign of what this years winter will bring. Wooley catapillars are nowhere to be found. Squirrels appear skinny and show no sign of a winter coat. Cold came early this year. Confusion rules the day as no definite sign dares to present itself. Leaves are already deep amongst the wood, giving off the smell of musk and decay, providing a rich and healthy forest sub-floor.
One can see turkey, coyote, and several varieties of hawk during the day. There is sign of deer, moose and bear, although they have evaded me. The water has never appeared as clean and as refreshing as it does now. The night peepers are slowing to a whisper.
I made a lentil soup and added a few whole onions to the pot. It warmed my insides while the gas later on amused me greatly. I thought of my grandaughter who laughs wildly at impolite flatulence. Ah, childish humor.