What do you call today’s full moon?

The day started softly in a mix of fog and mist. As light grew to a point where we could see the yard, we noticed two yearling does nibbling around the wet spot behind the house. I’ve no idea what they were eating although one did sample the forsythia leaves. Then she circled the bush and startled herself with something and fled, flag flying. That’s when we noticed what we’re guessing was mom checking out the oak branches closer to the edge between the woods and the grass. It was one of the better ways to start a day that we’ve enjoy in a long time.

whitetail doe in “wet spot"

Photo by J. Harrington

The mums are now planted. I made the holes in the ground. The Better Half planted and filled the holes. The autumn planting of mums, which never survive the winter, has become an annual tradition. Somehow, every year, I seem able to find more tree roots just where I want to put the hole. Maybe this winter I can sign up for a course in avoiding roots while planting flowers.

I just learned that tomorrow is Grandparents Day. It’s been decades since my grandparents were alive and the Better Half and I just became grandparents a couple of years ago, so I’m not surprised I just learned about it. But that means we never taught our daughter about grandparents day. Time to attend to that gap in her education.

You probably already know that today is September’s full moon, but you may not know it’s the Ojibwe Rice Moon and the Lakota Brown Leaves moon. It was full at about 5 this morning but may be beautiful this evening also so see if you can get a look at an almost full American Harvest Moon tonight.

The Harvest Moon

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - 1807-1882

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes
  And roofs of villages, on woodland crests
  And their aerial neighborhoods of nests
  Deserted, on the curtained window-panes
Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes
  And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests!
  Gone are the birds that were our summer guests,
  With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!
All things are symbols: the external shows
  Of Nature have their image in the mind,
  As flowers and fruits and falling of the leaves;
The song-birds leave us at the summer's close,
  Only the empty nests are left behind,
  And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.

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