Sea Glass...Jewels From the Sea: NEWS FLASH!

Dear Readers,

Beginning with this post, I am moving my blog posts to a new home—my author website:

http://www.kathrynlouisewoodauthor.com

The blog page can be found at:

http://www.kathrynlouisewoodauthor.com/blog/

With this move, I will post on a monthly basis. PROMISE!

Thanks for stopping by. See ya'll in my new home!

Warmest Wishes,

Kate

Inspiration...the breath of life and fulfillment

Inspiration. From the Latin: inspiratus, to breathe into. The act of breathing pulls in life-giving, energizing oxygen, without which we cease to exist on a physical level. Over time, we have learned that we not only need to breathe in the air around us, but also the wisdom and love and support of others to live an inspired life. When I say "others," I refer to all things outside ourselves that we can pull inside ourselves to bring added joy and meaning to our work, our relationships, our very lives. We can find inspiration in the natural world as well as in the creations of other people. Of course, as human beings, we are also part of the natural world no matter how many barriers we often place between ourselves and other organic creations, flora and fauna, with which we share the Earth.

Today, I am focused on the inspiration I received from my dear Aunt Evelyn. Inspiration that overflowed itself into a poem that I recently wrote for her ninety-fifth birthday, just about a week before she passed away. Always a woman of strength, flexibility, good humor, and boundless love, Aunt Evelyn also lived life with a sense of curiosity and courage. As she began her transition from this life to the next, my cousin was witness to her mother's reporting of dreams, visions, and glimpses of the "other side." As with the rest of her life, my aunt faced her next phase with a sense of wonder and a deep foundation of faith. She was ready for the next grand adventure, knowing in her heart that other loved ones who had gone before her, especially her cherished husband, were ready to take her hand and lead her forward.

I learned from my cousin that her mother loved butterflies and that her favorite color was blue. Blue. The color of her beautiful eyes and that Carolina Blue sky beneath which she was born. And so, with Aunt Evelyn's spirit breathing life into my words, I wrote the following poem, shared here with my cousin's blessing. It is, perhaps, more "heart" than "art" but, I hope you may find a bit of inspiration from it as well.

Butterfly Soul

by Kathryn Louise Wood

A small butterfly came fluttering by

and caught the blue of Evelyn's eye. 

She softly raised her gentle hand,

offering haven for it to land.

Its tiny feet then tickled her palm,

sapphire wings folding down in calm.

She nearly felt its thrumming heart

and knew it played some larger part,

bigger than self in God's great plan.

"Please tell me now, however you can."

A shimmering voice now entered her mind,

more thought than words of any kind,

"Lean closer with your heart's own ear.

I'll tell you why God placed me here:

To remind you of things you already know,

down deep in your soul where all truths grow—

"Caterpillaring on, you do your best,

then cocoon for a moment of briefest rest.

And just when you think all of life is done,

you discover your wings, reflecting the sun.

Look in a mirror, and know what you see

veils your Butterfly Soul of Eternity."

Thanks for stopping by. Ya'll come back, now (and feel free to leave your own inspirations in the comments below.)

Kate

-photos from Pixabay.com-

Snowfall...winter wonder

 
Here, in northeastern North Carolina, a hefty snowfall is a rare thing. And, so, we tend to celebrate with wide-eyed wonder and clicking cameras and bowls of snow cream, and some of us even wax poetic. Here is my poem inspired by snow and some photos of our most recent seasonal wonderment this past week, as well as a couple shots from winters past.

Snowfall

by Kathryn Louise Wood

Feathering through the ink of night,

Seeping into unseen cracks,

Swirling in mad circling eddies,

Drifting into slippery slopes,

Sweeping free across the open,

Deviling into sudden whirlwinds,

Clinging to eyelashes and to feet,

Smoothing over the rough and sharp,

Sparkling beneath sun and moonlight,

Melting into reflective glimmer,

Dripping silent, drop by drop,

Soaking darkly into earth,

Vaporing back to shimmering sky.

Is it snow...or memory?

Thanks for stopping by. Ya'll come back!

Kate

If Spring Had a Color...then yellow, it must be

It's the end of April, and Spring has come at last. Not the false spring of February, or the teasing spring of March, but finally, the true Spring! I'm celebrating with an original poem inspired by that most springy of colors: yellow. All of the photos are ones that I took in my own backyard (with the exception of the forsythia and Carolina jasmine which I let slip past my camera lens this year—those are from the royalty-free Pixabay site, bless 'em.)

 Spring Yellow/Yellow Spring

by Kathryn Louise Wood

If Spring had a color,

then yellow, it must be.

Buttercups, and daffodils,

and Carolina jasmine,

forsythia, and dandelions,

and yellow powdered pollen.

It's as though the flowers,

 and their magical dust—

                       

 collected by the bees,

 and spread from bloom to bloom—

 encourage the young sun

  to linger, ever longer,

  until the old world dances

  in the golden youth of Spring.

Thanks for stopping by. Y'all come back now. (And Happy Spring!)

Kate

On Writing...just do it

("Foreword"— Please forgive any wonky formatting you see in this and future posts. I am still trying to get a handle on Blogger's new version! )               With my first traditionally published book, Zephyr Stone and the Moon Mist Ghost, being launched by Blue Ink Press, next month, I am in the midst of developing my author website. One of my pages will be a section "On Writing." And, so, I thought I'd give you a preview of my soon-to-be-published website by sharing this page with you, ahead of time.      When asked my advice on writing, my words are simple. Just do it. Set out a time each day (or each week,) pour yourself a cup or glass of your favorite beverage and set pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and start writing. This part of your writing is for your eyes only. You know that popular phrase, “Dance like nobody’s watching?” Well, write like nobody’s reading over your shoulder. Not your family, not your friends, and certainly not your former English teacher. It doesn’t have to be pretty and it probably won’t be. The procrastinator’s best friend is perfectionism. Trust me, I know this intimately. You can and will always go back and clean things up, hunt for that perfect word, run down that bit of research, and polish that diamond in the rough until it shines. But...if you don’t write something down, there will be nothing to polish. 

My second piece of advice is also simple. Read. Read, read, read. Read within your current genre, read outside of your current genre, read the classics, read the new, read the great, and read the not-so-great. We learn from it all. Read. Write. Repeat.                                                       

My third suggestion, is to find yourself a group of Kindred Spirits, either in person or online, in which you share your written work with one another and where each member reads and offers impressions of the writing. You will learn at least as much from the act of reading and thoughtfully considering the writing of others as you will from the insights they provide into your own writing. I am so very fortunate to be a member of a wonderful and supportive local writers group that meets twice monthly for this purpose. Even in the time of Covid 19, we continued to meet via Zoom. It has truly helped me stay sane and grounded!

I am often asked if I am a planner, creating thorough outlines and character sketches          before I write that first chapter, or am I a pantser, writing by the seat

of my pants without a safety net? Just like my car, I am a hybrid of the two. Long before I begin writing my new manuscript, I’ve thought in generalized terms about the plot, the setting, the characters and what they have at stake in the world I will be creating around them, as well as the genre, and the target audience. Then, as I consider the book as a whole, I write out a loose outline of the action. Opening, rising action, climax, falling action, resolution. I include my main characters, but leave them LOTS of leeway to expand upon themselves and introduce me to supporting characters I didn’t even know I needed. This flexibility allows my book to live and breathe as it takes on a life of its own. But the general outline makes sure my characters don’t lead me too far astray and down a rabbit hole that might take me weeks from which to dig back out. 

My favorite music to write by? The sound of a fire crackling in the fireplace (or a virtual one on my computer or TV,) the sounds of the natural outside world: birds, rain, wind, and waves.  When it comes to manmade music, it has to be purely instrumental. I am way too verbally-oriented to tune out lyrics. That goes for either vocal music or even tunes associated with lyrics known to me. I will hear the unsung words in my head and they interfere with my concentration. I enjoy movie soundtracks for background music, especially music from the Harry Potter films.

One more thought. I love to bake. (Check out my recipe Face Book page, Kate’s Giving Plate:
https://www.facebook.com/KatePlate15 ) And I see a direct correlation between baking and writing. Both take forethought, assembling the right ingredients, measuring them out into workable proportions, mixing them together, then allowing them enough time in the right environment to bake to delicious fruition. Food for thought, you might say! With that in mind, I look forward to meeting with school children as we step into my literary kitchen and “bake books” together. 

Thanks for stopping by. Y'all come back, now. (And "write on!")

Kate

Old Dog, Young Year...Wolf Moon

Having had both big and small dogs share his life over the years, my brother once told me that little dogs often live longer but...they were old for a lot longer, too. This is certainly playing out with our experience with our dear little Shih Tzu, Minna, who turned fourteen, this past December. She has lost her sight and  has become increasingly frail, suffering what her vet calls "cognitive decline." In other words, doggy dementia. Hers mostly takes the form of getting turned around in odd places, getting "stuck" in corners or behind doors, and barking for no apparent reason. Our younger dog, Sophie, just looks at her then, with a puzzled look on her face, as though trying to understand what she's

talking about. 

But just as with some old humans, who have a sudden decline in physical and mental abilities, it's important to keep in mind that in the big picture of a lifespan, these last years of fragility are just a tiny part of the life they give to the world. And so, I was inspired to write a poem after our wee-hours-of-the-morning experience, today. (Please forgive the awkward formatting. I've yet to master the new version of Blogger!)

Old Dog, Young Year, Wolf Moon

by Kathryn Louise Wood

~Since her decline in body and mind,

blind in eye though not in soul,

we watch and listen for signs of distress,

and come to her aid when she's stuck behind doors.

And ask, without hope of answering word,

what it is that she needs when she croaks out a bark,

as, sometimes, her blind eyes stare out into space

and she shouts to the empty air that surrounds her.

Now, our sleep comes in fits and in frustrating starts

as she "woofs" in our bed, just under her breath,

and our muscles clench tight at the 3am hour,

we know that soft woof will reach desperate pitch.

Then it's jump-up-and-carry her into the night,

out the back door in the wintery cold.

But, sometimes, the chore is a gift, unexpected,

as early this morning, when urgency barked.

I gathered her up, throwing coat over gown,

and carried her out for her needed relief,

into the frost (prayed inspiration would strike her,)

and hoped she'd remember our purpose outside.

I noticed the snow-laden ground was quite glowing

and, turning my gaze away from her snuffling,

my tired eyes were filled with the shimmer of moonlight,

from a moon, crystal clear, in the frozen expanse.

And, then, I remembered its sky-spirit name,

the one for the first full moon of the year.

Then, looking back down at our tiny canine,

knew her heart was as large as the Wolf Moon was full.

I sensed the wild blood that coursed through her veins

as the clear lunar light set her form all a' glimmer,

bathing her body with bright primal beauty,

her fierce, ageless spirit belying her years.

Though shivering cold, warmth flooded my heart

for the privilege of caring for such a dear soul

who the universe granted our love to entwine, 

and the years of sheer joy she's brought to our world.~

Thanks for stopping by. Y'all come back, now!

Kate (and Minna)

-All photos by either Kate or husband, Bill Ahearn-

 

Ghost Stories...'tis the season

"Buttercup Cottage Halloween" photo by K.L. Wood

 Anyone who has followed my writing is well aware that I often incorporate a ghostly element into my stories. For example, my Middle Grade novel, Zephyr Stone and the Moon Mist Ghost will be published by Blue Ink Press https://www.blueinkpress.com/in 2021. As you may surmise, I also enjoy reading ghost stories and watching television programs and movies that center on otherworldly action and characters. Especially if they are based in true events. I am alone in this within my household of two, in which my husband has no such interest. Although he humors me from time to time, he mostly just finds something else to do while I watch or read my ghost stories. Strangely, enough, between the two of us, he is the one who has had more actual ghostly encounters. Encounters of which he is the first to acknowledge their validity and truly supernatural qualities. I wrote a poem about my proclivity towards ghost stories which was selected to appear in the 2017 edition of the College of the Albemarle's annual visual arts and literary journal, Estuaries, and present it, here, as my October offering. Enjoy! (As you learn a bit more about me and my obsession...I mean my interest.)

"Edinburgh Ghost Tour" re: Pixabay

Ghostwriter

by Kathryn Louise Wood

Why are you always reading about ghosts,

or watching their hunters on reality TV,

or searching for clues on the internet,

or writing them into your stories and books?

These are the questions my husband asked me,

forehead creased in spousal concern.

Well that’s a good question, I’ve given it thought,

and wondered, myself, at this strange fascination.

So, after some probing and inner reflection,

I think I’ve discovered the root of my quest.

Two things have always stirred deep in my psyche:

the spellbinding thought of a magical world,

and life after death where lives never end.

I’ve seen too much, and heard even more,

to dismiss the existence of bodiless souls,

spirits so free of earthly constraints,

they pass through walls and visit the living.

That non-corporeal realm seems magic made real.

When days are numbered—some many, some few—

the promise that all that we are is not lost

lends comfort, but also a thrill of intrigue

to think we are all so much more than we seem.

I salute those who find their Belief is sufficient

in resting assured of eternal existence.

I find that the Faith of My Fathers is bolstered,

renewed, and strengthened, and greatly supported

when the stardust of supra-natural beings

reminds us, all, we are made of the same.

Thanks for stopping by. Y'all come back, now! 

(And Happy Halloween!)

Kate

Doggone Inspiration...and surprising source of comfort

"Patterdale Wanderers" illustration by Mo Palios

As an American writer amid these strange days of the Covid 19 virus pandemic, social unrest, vitriol-spewing politics, dangerous hurricanes and wildfires, and even a freakish damaging earthquake in my state of North Carolina, I find myself struggling to focus on my writing, wondering what plague will next strike us. All too often, my mind veers away from my work and onto the next crazy or horrifying thing in the news.

"Sophie" photo by K. L. Wood

But I have discovered a new and unexpected source of both creative inspiration and warm-hearted comfort. I (actually, my dog, Sophie) was invited to join a private Facebook group called the Nibblers—Patterdale Wanderers FC. In case you don’t know, FC stands for Football Club. (That’s football, as in soccer.) No, Sophie is not a soccer player or a Patterdale terrier, but she’s a friend of a Patt named Wanda, here in Edenton, and Wanda extended the invitation to join this positively (or “pawsitively” in Nibbler-speak, but more on that, later) wonderful group. Four year-old Sophie, in turn, invited her old litle sister, thirteen-year-old Shih Tzu, Minna, to join the Nibblers. This creative pack of canines is centered in the United Kingdom, but Nibblers stretching from Kansas to Canada to the Netherlands have also been welcomed into the fold.

"Magic Wanda" photo by K. L. Wood

What gets my writer’s juices flowing is that the members all communicate in their “dog voices,” viewing and speaking from the dog’s POV (Point Of View, or perhaps POD- Point Of Dog is more accurate.) There is a whole host of dog dialect-enhanced words. For example: going on a vacation is usually referred to in the UK as going on holiday, but in Nibbler-speak, it’s going on “holibobs.” Archie, the Nibbler who started it all, has become the official group attorney, usually called a solicitor in the UK, except in Nibbler land he is the “solly sitter.” One term that has gotten a lot of use recently is the “carrot walrus.” In other words, the corona virus, which has invaded the Nibblers’ lives on both sides of the Pond. And we human beings are referred to as “beans.” As in, I’m Sophie’s Mom bean, and there are Brother and Sister beans and Grandma beans and Uncle beans, etc. There are many more examples, but you get the picture!

This group shares photographs and stories of their everyday adventures of taking “walkies” and sneaking treats, such as that ever-popular UK Nibbler favorite, custard creams. (A vanilla cookie sandwich with a cream center.) I’ve learned a lot of new terminology, both gastronomically and colloquially-speaking, which sets my writer’s brain a’ ticking. There is also the creative challenge of writing in your own dog’s voice. My Sophie, for example, consistently speaks with her own brand of eccentric phrasing. She often adds an “s” where none is needed. (“Where nones is neededs.”)

 

"Minna" photo by K. L. Wood, all other Nibbler photos on this Blog, provided by their Beans

The members also share exuberant joys and heart-wrenching sorrows. In addition to celebrating birthdays and “Gotcha” Days (the days on which rescued Nibblers with unknown birth dates joined their forever homes,) there have been baby beans born and new Nibbler siblings adopted. But there have also been sick or injured Nibblers, as well as their beans, and we have offered get-well wishes and practical advice when requested. And, as might be expected, there have been both beans and Nibblers who have passed away into what they call, Everafter Land. When that has happened, one can feel the warmth and love of hundreds of kindred spirits wrapping the bereaved in comfort.

 

"Sophie's First Birthday" photo by K. L. Wood

The Nibblers participate in complex virtual events such as sports competitions, birthday celebrations, beach parties, travel adventures, and even a recent Nibbler wedding for Mr. Scruffs and Miss Lilly. (Several romances have blossomed online in this cyberworld!) In future posts, I will share some of these entertaining stories (especially the wonderful tales spun by Kiki’s Grandpaw bean,) as well as more photographs and drawings of these endearing canine characters. (Today’s post has but a few of their portraits. Just the tip of the proverbial iceberg of Nibblers who have offered their images for the blog!)

It all began with one of the beans, a talented writer and artist named Mo Palios, when she began a page in the name of her adorable rescued terrier, Archie. As she told and illustrated Archie’s fantastic tales, he gained a following that blossomed into a life of its own and eventually became the basis for the broader Facebook page: Nibblers-Patterdale Wanderers FC.

In Mo’s words: “I think the Patterdale Wanderers Football Team was the first big bonding event and that’s when i invented the Nibbler nickname. They were appallingly bad players but devoted themselves to coming up with tricks and strategies to beat their opponents! Like wearing dachshund face masks to confuse the other team. And the Nibblettes dressing as bunny rabbits to distract the whippet team.”

I’ll end this segment of the fantastical world of the Nibblers with a quote from their Facebook page:

~Join the Nibblers for fun, fantasy football and lots of amazing adventures in Pattland.

Players and supporters of Patterdale Wanderers FC - nicknamed the Nibblers are all welcome!

Old, young, slow, fast - every Nibbler can play in our matches and go on our adventures as they only happen in our secret Pattland. Nibblers don’t always have to be Patts ... just friends of Patts. We have Nibblers all over the UK and in the States as well. We have a magic patterbus that transports us anywhere in minutes so we can all meet up wherever we want, whenever we want. (Without our mum and dad beans). We share jokes and tricks and games and our beans share stories about us being funny or cute or naughty ... mostly naughty. We’re great mates and our team motto is All For One - One for All. We’re pretty rubbish at football but our team, Patterdale Wanderers, has lots of tricks (sorry - tactics) up our sleeves. We’re proud and thrilled to say we somehow managed to win the Canine Football Association Cup against the Favourites, Dachshund Bangers. 🎶🎶🎶We are the champions my friends 🎶🎶🎶 ~

"Nibbler Flag" illustration by Mo Palios

Be sure, also, to check out Archie’s original Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/archie.paliostyte.3 where you can find some wonderful “Nibbler” oriented gifts; a portion of the sales are donated to the Dogs Trust, the largest dog welfare charity in the United Kingdom.  

Thanks for stopping by. Y’all come back, now! — And, as we navigate these dangerous days, let’s all try to live by the Nibblers’ motto: 

“All For One - One For All!”

Kate

And, Still, the Birds Sing...in feathered hope.

"A Perch of Birds" Watercolor by Hector Giacomelli, 1822-1904
(My husband gave me a print of this beautiful painting for my April 6 birthday.)

Little did I know how much the world would change since my last post on March 8, 2020. Sure, I knew there was a new virus let loose in the world and there were about 500 cases in the United States, but it still felt like it was "out there" somewhere. Today, April 8, there are over 400,000 cases and over 14,000 related deaths in our country, alone. The United States, which had appeared to be so impervious in the beginning, is now the Covid 19 virus epicenter of the world. Oh, "how the mighty are fallen." The virus has insinuated itself into every human life on earth. I dare say there is nowhere you can go that has not been touched by it, directly or indirectly—physically, economically, emotionally, or mentally. 

I present two poems in response. The first, is one I wrote this morning as I sat at my kitchen table, reading the sad news on my laptop while I heard birdsong wafting through my screen door on a warm, spring breeze. And the second, is one of my favorite poems of all time.

And, Still, the Birds Sing

  by 

Kate Louise Wood

I question and dread,

I cry, and I rage.

I say it’s all fine

as I lie through my teeth.

I tremble and quail,

I fret and I doubt.

I seek where to hide,

shutting down, shutting in.

But the world doesn’t stop,

though it feels like it must.

A breeze strokes my cheek

and ruffles the trees.

The sun warms my skin

and sparkles the bay.

And life presses on,

and, still, the birds sing.

"Carolina Wren" by contemporary N.C. artist, E. M. Corsa
(An original watercolor I gave my husband for his birthday)

Hope is the Thing With Feathers

            

by

Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Thanks for stopping by. Y'all come back, now. (And wash your hands!)

Kate

Celtic Kissing Cousins...Ireland and Scotland

"Woodland at Loch Lomond" photo by the author, Kate Wood

I’ve always wished to travel to the magical lands of Ireland and Scotland. Must be something deep in my DNA calling me home. I’ve not yet made it to the Emerald Isle (not to be confused with North Carolina’s lovely Emerald Isle, to which I have traveled!) But several years ago, I spent a couple weeks in Scotland, half of that time on the wild and windswept Isle of Skye. At every turn, I found both photographic and literary inspiration, much of which has made it into my latest “work-in-progress” contemporary fantasy novel, Murmuration.

In researching for my book, I found several crossovers of Irish and Scottish mythological creatures such as, water horses—the Irish Aughisky, and the Scottish Kelpie, and the wailing criers of impending death—the Irish Banshee and the Scottish Ben Nighe. With similar origins, including the Norwegian Vikings, and just the Irish Sea between them, (as narrow as 47 miles across in places,) it’s not surprising.

"Dunvegan Castle" by Kate Wood

Both cultures take their fairies seriously. While traveling on Skye, I was able to capture a photograph of Dunvegan Castle, which I think illustrates its fairytale qualities. Later, I learned there is a real fairy story connected to Dunvegan and the Clan MacLeod, whose chiefs have resided at the castle in an uninterrupted line since the 13^th century.

"The Fairy Bridge" by Kate Wood

The tale is one of love and marriage between a fairy lady and chief of the Clan MacLeod. Apparently, there are a couple versions of the story, although both tell of a time-limit on the union before the fairy must return to her own kind. In one, the fairy wife left their baby with the saddened MacLeod and when she heard the child crying one night, returned and wrapped him in her silken shawl. Another tells of her giving the shawl to her husband as they parted ways on The Fairy Bridge (three miles away from Dunvegan Castle and still standing.)

Both stories agree that, waved as a flag, the red-dotted yellow silk shawl would shield the clan from harm as long as it was employed no more than three times. At last count, it had been raised twice. Though fragile and tattered, the Fairy Flag can still be viewed by today’s visitors, the enchanted shawl protected within a glass case inside Dunvegan Castle, ready to fly one last time in defense of the MacLeods.

"Kiss Bill, He's Irish" photo of author's husband by Kate Wood

Thanks for stopping by. Y’all come back, now. (And a Happy St. Patrick’s Day to all you Celtic Kissing Cousins!)

Kate

Something Old, Something New...I see the moon, and the moon sees you

"Blue Moon" August, 2018, Edenton, NC, photo by author, KLWood

This post holds something old—borrowing information from one of my 2014 posts regarding full moon names—and something new—my recently composed poem inspired by the full moon, a few nights ago. In my writing over the past few years, I've noted a couple trends: ghosts and the moon. Not necessarily at the same time. (Although my Middle Grade novel, under publishing contract with Blue Ink Press, is titled Zephyr Stone and the Moon Mist Ghost. So, yeah, those subjects have been known to combine in my moonstruck imagination.) 

Here, then, I humbly offer my poem celebrating this January's hauntingly beautiful full Wolf Moon, followed by a list and explanation of traditional full moon names.

The Wolf Moon

by Kate Louise Wood

The Wolf Moon howls in the January night,

shivering and glimmering up my spine,

stalking the waves of smoky clouds,

roaming and hunting from sterling heights.

Cold and free, it haunts the sky,

breathing its glittering mists upon us,

touching the wild, fierce core of my soul

as I gaze into its silver eyes.

"Full Moon Through the Pines" photo by KLWood

January: Wolf Moon 
Native Americans and medieval Europeans named January's full moon after the howling of hungry wolves lamenting the midwinter paucity of food. Other names for this month's full moon include Old Moon and Ice Moon.

February: Snow Moon
The typically cold, snowy weather of February in North America earned this name. Other common names include Storm Moon and Hunger Moon.

March: Worm Moon
Native Americans named this last full moon of winter for the worm trails that would appear in the newly thawed ground. Other names include Chaste Moon, Death Moon, Crust Moon (a reference to snow that would become crusty as it thawed during the day and froze at night,) and Sap Moon, after the tapping of the maple trees.

April: Pink Moon

Northern Native Americans name April's full moon for a species of early blooming wildflower. In other cultures, this moon is called the Sprouting Grass Moon, the Egg Moon, and the Fish Moon.

May: Flower Moon
May's abundant blooms are the source of this moon's name in many cultures. Other names include the Hare Moon, the Corn Planting Moon, and the Milk Moon.

June: Strawberry Moon

"Moon Over Seward, Alaska, August 2011" photo by KLWood

In North America, the harvesting of strawberries in June gives that month's full moon its name. Some European traditions have dubbed it the Rose Moon, while other cultures named it the Hot Moon, for the beginning of summer's heat.

July: Buck Moon

Male deer, which shed their antlers every year, begin to regrow them in July, hence the Native American name for July's full moon. Other names include Thunder Moon, for the month's many summer storms, and Hay Moon, after the July hay harvest.

August: Sturgeon Moon

North American fishing tribes called August's full moon the Sturgeon Moon since that fish species was abundant during this month. It's also been called the Green Corn Moon, the Grain Moon, and the Red Moon, for the reddish hue it often takes on in the summer haze.

September: Harvest Moon 

The most familiar named moon refers to the time of year after the autumn equinox when crops are gathered. It also refers to the moon's particularly bright appearance and early rise, which lets farmers continue harvesting into the night. Other names include the Corn Moon and the Barley Moon.

"Alaska Moon" photo by KLWood

October: Hunter's Moon
The first moon following the Harvest Moon is named for the preferred time to hunt summer-fattened deer and fox unable to hide in, now, bare fields. Like the Harvest Moon, the Hunter's Moon is also particularly bright and long-lived in the sky, giving hunters the opportunity to stalk prey at night. Other names include the Travel Moon and the Dying Grass Moon.

November: Beaver Moon

There is disagreement over the origin of November's full moon name. Some say it comes from Native Americans setting beaver traps during this month, while others say the name comes from the heavy activity of beavers building their winter dams. Another name is the Frost Moon.

December: Cold Moon

The coming of winter earned December's full moon name. Other names include the Long Night moon and the Oak Moon.

And, of course, there's the Honeymoon, Blue Moon, and Carolina Moon (but I'll return to them another day, er, night.)

Thanks for stopping by. Y'all come back, now!

Kate