Mourning Moon*

"The wild November come at last

Beneath a veil of rain;

The night winds blows its folds aside,

Her face is full of pain.

The latest of her race, she takes

The Autumn's vacant throne:

She has but one short moon to live,

And she must live alone."

- Richard Henry Stoddard, November

Here in 1Y1Dland, the trees are almost done with turning. The oaks, usually the last to go, are half empty and the maples are skeletons with a few golden or scarlet leaves still hanging on. We have already had our first snow, although it didn’t stick. Our heat is on and tea has become my morning staple. More of our days are grey and dusk comes sooner, before 5 o’clock. All the world seems to be in mourning for the end of the growing season and warmth and beauty of summer.

There is a darkness to the daily rituals of life as well. Our food is heavier, with more protein to help keep us warm. Slippers are a must and my wool socks have made a reappearance. I’m knitting woolly sweaters for my son and I’ve started the collection of hats and mittens for the holiday charity tree at church. Our pumpkin has gone to the compost pile and the neighborhood leaf collections start on Monday. We need coats to go for a walk and hats are next on the list.
I don’t do magic at this time of the year. It seems wrong somehow, to petition the Gods at a time when the Earth is settling down to sleep and the Lady is mourning the loss of Her Son. I don’t stop my daily devotions but I do cut back on large-scale ritual activity. I will sing to the Moon tonight, but I won’t seek more reassurance then Her simple light. I am planning a Dream Journey for the New Moon, but for now I will hoard away my energies and let the Full Moon pass in quiet.

There is a holly tree outside our kitchen window and over the years it has grown to obscure most of the view. My mother hates it for that reason but I find myself drawn to it. The window gives me line of sight to the tree’s interior, the bare branches behind the prickly leaves. It’s covered with little red berries right now and I get to see all the visitors to that tree-based grocery. There are squirrels, of course, and sparrows and even the occasional robin. But I wait for the flash of color that signals the arrival of our neighborhood cardinals. The bright red bird loves our out-of-control tree and we will get several visits a day from the local male. Cardinals always give me such hope. As the world becomes darker, the weather becomes more difficult and the days become colder, their red coats remind me that there is beauty in winter and that spring will be here before we know it.

*This name comes from Modern Pagan Tradition. Through the year I will be using moon names from different sources, as no one naming system fits my beliefs perfectly. I chose this name because I felt it fit the feeling of November better than the better known names: Beaver or Snow Moon.