Erica Wheeler: inspiring connections between people and place

August 2013/ August Moon

August 2013 August Moon
Last week we had a beautiful Full Moon. It was a but a late summer Blue moon, that looked red when it rose.

Sometimes when I am reaching for the words to describe a certain moment of the season, I’m never disappointed by one of the books I’ve had on my nightstand for years called The Twelve Moons of the Year by Hal Borland. It’s a favorite of ours to read aloud to each other. I’ve decided to post one of his writings as this month’s feature article for you to enjoy.

I first started reading Hal when I was in my teens and going on trips with a local Youth Audubon group. My mother had this book at her house and gave it to me. It’s one of my most treasured possessions. The writing is exquisite, and always makes me see, feel and appreciate the time of year more deeply. Just reading any passage, especially when read aloud, grounds me in what really matters.

August Moon (excerpt from Twelve Moons of the Year, by Hal Borland)

“There’s warmth to an August moon, and the fullness of mid-summer. It isn’t a harvest moon that seems to fill the sky when it first climbs over the horizon; but a generous moon that lights the green hills with a kind of ripening-apple glow. There’s mellowness about a moonlit night in August that is a sweet antidote for the cicada heat and the dusty glare of an August afternoon.

An October moon is a moon of maturity and harvest, taking to itself something of the crisp corn yellow of the fields and the deepening crimson of the maple hilltops. But an August moon is a moon of growing plenty still upon the vine. In it you can see the richness of that venerable symbol of fertility, the squash blossom; and the sweet golden kernel of new corn, the pollen fragrance, is in August moonlight. There is a sense of completion, of earth bounty come to its mid-August peak.

Katydids scratch the night, but there is also the silent beat of moth wings. And on a distant hill is the tentative bark of a fox, testing the air for some faint hint of autumn. Summer still is; but summer passing the peak, reluctantly starting the long, leisurely glide toward frost and November. Early windfalls scent the breeze from the orchard, not quite a cider tang, but a promise of cider to come.

And there is the August moon rising in the east, a late midyear moon over a northern hemisphere of midsummer plenty and midsummer peace.”

Isn’t that a lovely reminder of what is?

Your story: Ask yourself “What about the season defined this day? What did I see, smell or hear that felt it told the story of the season?” What comes to mind? I'd love to hear.

Also: Do you have a “day book” that you’ve read for years, that continues to inspire you? What book is it? Share your titles here!

updated: 1 year ago

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