The lunar eclipse on the same day as the winter solstice.
Big doin's in the sky.
I woke at 2 a.m., on my own, and made a trip to the frosty outhouse.
At that time, the moon was half eclipsed.
I shrugged and stood outside for a few minutes in the nearly single digit cold,
wondering where the beautiful moonlight had gone.
Quite frankly, I felt robbed.
It was getting darker, and dreary.
It was then I decided I wasn't a fan of the full moon eclipse.
I love the full moon too much to give up any part...for any reason.
Wonderful things have happened in my life, during a full moon.
I believe our 20+ sled dogs felt the same way.
As if on cue, they began a slow, mournful howl that carried into the night's sky.
One I had never heard before and perhaps never will again.
Sled dogs howl for many reasons.
A "thank you howl" at the end of feeding.
A "don't leave for work" howl.
A "member of the pack died" howl.
A "rainy day" howl.
And last night, I heard a howl that mourned the loss of the full moon.
The beautiful light, illuminating shimmering crystals of snow, was gone.
In its place - darkness.
1 comment:
I love your descriptions of the various howls. While my pack is much, much smaller, i love listening to their songs and have learned to tell the difference between tunes.
P.S. - The Herd was curled up in the house at the time of the eclipse, so I don't have a song for that.
Post a Comment