The Harvest Moon - September 29, 2012

There's an old song that goes:

"Shine one, shine on Harvest Moon,
Up in the sky
I ain't had no lovin' since January, February
June or July
Snow time, ain't no time to stay outdoors and spoon
So Shine on Shine on Harvest Moon..."




But do you know what the Harvest Moon actually is?

Of course, the Harvest Moon hasn't always been associated with popular song.  There's a tradition that states the Harvest Moon was important to farmers who used the extra hours of light to harvest more of their crops.

Moonrise is one of those things that comes a bit later every night, except at the time of the Hunter Moon and the Harvest Moon.  The Harvest Moon is that full moon which occurs closest to the Autumnal Equinox.  For several days, the moon will rise at about the same time each evening, right at sunset. This means there is no long period of darkness between sunset and moonrise.

It may be that these fall full moons leave such a lasting impression because they rise so large and luminous and hang low on the horizon.  I think that I associate October full moons with this more, perhaps because there are fewer leaves and my view of the sky is less obstructed.

There's a Harvest Moon coming up this weekend. Here in the Northern Hemisphere, the Autumnal Equinox was on September 22.  Therefore, the full moon on September 29-30 is officially the Harvest Moon.  Even if you're not an avid skywatcher, the Harvest Moon is too beautiful to miss.

To my mind, the song is just as good an explanation of why the Harvest Moon is important.  Sure, the farmers are happy to have a bit more light to work in the fields, but harvest is also a harbinger of colder temperatures and the expectation of wintry weather.  So yeah, snow time ain't no time to stay outdoors and spoon, so you'd better get your cuddling in by the Harvest Moon.  

The Flight of the Bumblebee

Today is a grey day, cool but not cold. Cloudy but no rain in sight. It's good weather if you need to work on clearing away brush or for doing some outside work on your house. I know this because my neighbor on one side is clearing away brush, and the neighbor on the other side is doing some work on the outside of his house.

It's not such a good day if you're a bumblebee, though. It's late September and pickings are slim. I have one pot of brave marigolds that keep pushing out blooms despite impending Autumn. Marigolds tend to be overlooked in warmer months, when there are fields of wildflowers, roses, rhododendrons and sweet petunias festooning every deck, footpath and window box. Marigolds smell funny and obviously their petals are not highly prized.

I know that Summer is over because the bumblebees are visiting the marigolds.  I know it's nearly Fall because these bumblebees are so desperate, they think about landing in my yellow hair, confused by it residing above a tender spring-green shirt. It's fall and bees are feeling desperate. They are also not very smart. Or rather, they are selectively smart.  A bumblebee is like a supercomputer that has only one software program installed. The bumblebee can find nectar, return to the nest and convey the exact location of said nectar by doing this little buzzing dance in front of his bee friends, which their little programmed brains can translate into a flight plan. But they can't figure out that I am not a flower.

Early Spring is equally dangerous as bees get all excited by warm weather but find few plants in bloom. In April, these bumblebees were completely fooled by The Boy's bright yellow remote control Mustang as it moved back and forth across the porch. They hovered over it, and followed it as he sent it streaking down the driveway. Again, the bumblebee's internal programming completely failed him.  Either he thought the car was a huge, yellow flower or he thought it was the Supreme Leader of all Bumblebees and was trying to follow its instructions. Hey, it's possible. I saw it in the Transformers movie.



The best thing about Autumn, of course, is that soon all insects - the dumb ones, the intelligent ones and the dangerous ones - will all be going into winter hibernation, leaving me free to sit on the deck and enjoy the crisp air and the coming foliage.


Today is a cool day, cloudy and grey. The kind of day that is counting down the last few remaining moments of Summer.  It's good weather if you're a little weary of being followed by bumblebees.

The Birds Say it's Time for Apple Pie

Today was the first day in many weeks where I could cool the house just by throwing open the right windows and creating a cross-breeze through the house.  A lovely, brisk current that should have made everyone feel refreshed and alive.

Instead, it created a feeling of impending doom for the younger members of the house.  Summer is indeed over, at least it's no longer in charge.  The cooler weather may not last for days, and warmer temperatures may return for a bit, but only for a bit.  The signs are all there.  It's time for school, and even the trees and the wind know it.

Some little part of me that still remembers the excitement, fear and sheer stress of these last few days of freedom becoming ten months of unrelenting education, felt sympathy with the cool wind that rustled the overgrown weeds that hang over the gravel pedestrian trail and carried hopeful seeds suspended from their white feathery parachutes. It's all necessary, but it happened so suddenly. 

Several dozen sparrows gathered in the brush and bushy undergrowth, until the sound of feet crunching through the gravel alerted them.  A flurry of brown wings beat the air and in a corporate flutter, they emerged to move further on.  Breeding done, they've gathered for a communal meeting, to discuss plans and destinations.  A small flock of geese flew over, calling attention to themselves with deep-throated honks. The great push is on to escape the cold that has not yet manifested but will soon be upon us.  It makes me think of sweaters and warm socks.

And apple pie.  That's when Autumn will really arrive.  When the wind blows cold and dry, the leaves chase each other as they tumble to the ground and the house smells of warm cinnamon and nutmeg.

I am looking forward to this, now.

With just a couple of weeks to go, the countdown to the first day of school has started. It's the day all mothers look forward to, the day they bustle the children off to school.  The Girl asked me why I was so excited about it, what do I get out of it?

 "Six hours a day, all to myself", I replied.

Honestly, I do understand how they feel.  I remember being a kid and how those last few days of summer crept up so quickly, just as you were settling into a nice leisurely summer routine.  In fact, even as an adult I have noticed the differences that signal Autumn is on the way, despite the continued hot and sunny days.

Even though this transitional time from carefree pursuits to tightly scheduled days and homework can be downright depressing for kids, the beginning of school is an exciting time as well.  I remember the thrill of new pencils and pens, the crisp, clean sheets of notebooks as yet unsullied by note-taking and doodling. There's an undercurrent of excitement in packing up the schoolbags, deciding on the exact right outfit for the first day, and hoping that this year will be better than last. For there's always that rush of organization and good intentions at the beginning of September, even if it starts to fade by November.

I know that I will miss the full house for a few days.  I will worry about how they are adjusting to new classes and teachers.  I will be waiting by the door when they come home.

But I will also be enjoying six hours a day, all to myself. 

The Winds of Change

Summer seemed rather incomplete this year, and not because it came late or left early. Some part of it must have to do with the maturing of the children in their interests and attitudes. And yet, the summer seemed hectic even without planning day trips to the beach or afternoons at the park. I am not sure where it went, and part of me is sad to see it go unfulfilled.

But an answer was heard this morning, a promise spoken on the wind. The glorious wind, that whipped through the trees and blustered through my open window, carelessly knocking over several items on my dresser in its rush to tell me. It came whistling a melody I hadn't heard in many long months, but know well.

The wind came to tell me that despite the fact that the trees are a tired, dull green instead of blazing into color and despite the persistently warm days following one after another, autumn is about to arrive.

Autumn is my favorite season. I love the crisp, cool days and the invigorating air. I love the smell of autumn and the colors. I love the winds of autumn, even though they strip the brilliance from the trees just a wee bit too soon.

I missed the chasing of the waves this year, and my heart yearns for the ocean. Perhaps that is why summer didn't satisfy. These misgivings and disappointments would hang heavily in the humid August air, but September has sent a cleansing wind to sweep out those remnants of unfulfilled dreams and lifted my soul up to where the treetops catch fire.