July is alternatively known as the Buck Moon by indigenous people throughout much of North America. This is because male deer, bucks, tend to have their antlers (which fall off in late winter) begin to show prominently at this time of year as they regrow in preparation for the fall rut.
It has also been referred to as the Hay Moon, an Anglo-Saxon reference to the dry time when hay was due to be cut for livestock. A torturous ordeal in and of itself, cutting hay.
This year’s full moon is expected to have a red-orange tint in North America due to the smoke from a multitude of wildfires currently burning. Let us all pray to our respective gods to protect lives and homes during this difficult time. So mote it be.
This moon is traditionally also referred to as the Flower Moon. However I prefer Blossom Moon, as a number of North American indigenous tribes referred to it. Blossom Moon, to me, better encompasses all things that explode with life in the spring. Flowers are beautiful, I keep my share, but they are not everything.
I do apologize – I am a day late with my full moon ode this month, but alas life does happen at times, and I have not been in a good frame of mind to write until today. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy.
The Worm Moon, third of the calendar year, occurs close to Ostara, which celebrates the equinox. It traditionally heralded the end of winter and welcomed the rebirth of spring in the Northern Hemisphere. In addition it is a Super Moon in 2021, signifying it’s close proximity to Earth during its elliptical orbit.
Days are longer and brighter as the sun awakens from it’s month’s long nap and flexes muscles slowly like a morning stretch that tests the body without inviting a cramp
Birds are restless and waiting for any opportunity to share a cheerful chirp or even flash their wings in exuberance over the upcoming change of seasons
We trace the sun across our horizon and watch it’s course over and over as we measure moments, solstices and equinoxes in addition to all the days in between that measure our lives and define our years
Once again we steal the sun from our neighbors south of the equator with the promise to return it in six more months when they have likely grown weary of the gloom, the cold, and the dreary muck that comprises the depths of hard winter on this giant blue marble careening through space in it’s captive course
Enjoy your days, don’t wish for future ones No one is guaranteed the promise of tomorrow since it never arrives, but rather becomes another today which will give way to an addition on a mountain of yesterdays that comprise where we have been.\
Today Today is the day that matter so live it to the fullest, then freely relinquish it that scrapyard of yesterdays