For several nights now the coyotes have been howling for the Wolf Moon, their sad calls echoing through the bowl of the valley. Perhaps they are lamenting because January's full moon is also called the Cold Moon, and sometimes the Hungry Moon{which can also be applied to February's Full Moon}. Perhaps it is the Greeting Moon they are calling to. I just don't know.
At this time of the year, when our ancestors spent most of their time crowded indoors , perhaps thinking about observations they had made about the world around them, or delving into what was in their own hearts, souls and minds, while they worked on the everyday tools and goods they would be needing in the year ahead. Nights could could be spent observing the night sky. There were few light sources then, that could impede viewing the stars, unlike today. Minds could wander and wonder letting imagination be the glue that held thoughts together.
Earlier this month when the moon began to wax, there were several clear nights, and I watched, with no distractions, the sliver of light grow, and pinpoints of starlight dot the dark velvety sky. And allowed my mind to wander past everyday thoughts, to wonder "what if".
