Last night, as I was tucking everyone in for bed, I looked out and saw the last moon of summer rising above the trees.
I made a cup of tea and went out to sit on the bench by the chickens to bask in it’s rays. Like a crystal, I soaked up everything she had to offer. Sophie came up to sit next to me and I shared the blanket, It wasn’t long before the cat joined us. Unfortunately, that didn’t leave much blanket for me.

It wasn’t terribly chill and I wiggled my toes in the dew wet grass. Sipping my tea, I looked back over the summer moons. Sometimes it seems that my life, like so many ancient people, is measured by the moons.

I start to come alive with the full worm moon in spring. The snow is almost gone and I can get my hands in the dirt. The baby squirrels have not yet started falling from the trees, so I end up with whole litters of red squirrels that people find in their garage or attic or grill.

The pink moon, signals the serious start of baby season and gardening. The cold hardy crops like radishes and peas are all up and growing and I am debating if the last night of frost has passed to plant more. Babies are everywhere in the studio. Early coons, more squirrels (is there ever an end to lost squirrels?), every sort of baby you can imagine, including my favorites….the little abandoned porcupines found by mushroom hunters. I’ll get to see a lot of this moon as I get up in the middle of the night to feed babies.

I hardly get to notice the Strawberry Moon in June, other than I know that the last of the fawns will be dropped and the pen is full. I usually get to see this moon when I do my last feeding of the night (around midnight) for these tiny fawns. I love to lay in the straw with them and listen to the stars.

The July moon is when I start my walks at moonrise. I go around the yard checking in on everyone and making sure they are secure. So often this moon bears a ring, signifying rain is on it’s way. If it is warm, I’ll go in the pool before bed to cool off and unwind.

We had a bonus moon this year. The early august moon that I grew up calling the “Green Corn Moon”. It was a time when the Native Americans would hold corn roasts. I only got three ears of sweet corn this year as the squirrels beat me to them. (sadly, all my flour corn appealed to them as well) No corn roast here this year.

The August moon signals the time for letting go. The early squirrels have already been released (and thus, no corn). Now is time for possums, skunks, fox, the last of the raccoons and others. The porcupines and fawns are still getting bottles, so they will get to stay a bit longer. If I don’t have tiny squirrels from the second batch, I get to sleep through the night. Yet somehow on that night of the full moon, I don’t sleep. It usually signifies the ending of summer and I am reluctant to see it dim.
Last night though, we got our bonus summer moon. Still warm enough to listen to crickets and watch the bats fly. Perfect for sitting in the yard in my pajamas with a cup of tea and the dog. I wonder if she and the cat realize that soon, they will be the full focus of my attention without competing with the wildlings. By the next moon, they will all be free.

I sipped my tea and reviewed the summer. I didn’t get as much accomplished as I wanted, but I never do. It was a summer of loss and face masks and missing friends. There were no gatherings over the Fourth of July, no pop in guests of friends and family and I missed the children. There were so few children here this year. The tomatoes got blight, the cucumbers failed and between the garden’s resident rabbit and squirrels, pickings were slim.

Yet, there was more to this summer. There was a deep gratitude of being alive, of Jimmy having a job when others don’t. The appreciation of abundance from the land in meat, eggs and growing things. There was the love I felt every time I saw my family or friends. A love that comes from the realization of just how fragile life is. The knowledge, that we have “enough” and that enough, is really all you need….food, shelter and love.

As the moon wains and the summer turns to fall. I wish you all “enough”…and if you happen to have abundance…be joyful and share. If we all did that, then everyone would have enough and the world would be a fine place indeed.