Up the Creek

by

Ken M. Blomberg

An old Scottish proverb proclaims, “When round the moon there is a halo, the weather will be cold and rough.” Well, the other night, a perfect circle of white sky dust surrounded the moon as it hung over the kennel. I stopped long enough to ponder its existence and ponder its meaning. It wasn’t exceptionally cold that evening, but the weather woman had prognosticated subzero temperatures and snowstorms in the upcoming days. The long range weather forecast called for below normal temperatures into the month of February. The snow prediction wasn’t too alarming and was welcomed as a nice insulating blanket over the landscape.

The moon, it turned out, was on a path to fullness and a rare lunar eclipse. A January Wolf Moon was on our doorstep and arrived a few days later last Sunday. Native Americans named it such while listening to packs of hungry wolves howling to the midwinter full moon. This year, it was subject to a total lunar eclipse. Clear skies here Sunday night afforded an hour and 2 minute spectacle – a full moon totally immersed in the Earth’s shadow turned red to the naked eye. During this time, the Earth, moon, and sun are almost perfectly aligned.

Where does the red color come from? Think of the spectacular colors in the sky at times during sunrise and sunset. When only a small amount of sunlight reaches the moon or our eyes after being blocked by the earth during eclipse or being being filtered by clouds during sunrise and sunset, the color red, the least altered, remains.

It was American author John Burroughs who said, “He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter. In winter, the stars seem to have rekindled their fires, the moon achieves a fuller triumph, and the heavens wear a look of a more exalted simplicity.”

Around 9:30 pm Sunday our family watched from behind the comfort of the kitchen window as the moon, already high in the clear sky, began to disappear in the earth’s shadow. Slowly, but surely, by 11:30 pm, the eclipse was total. I was on my rounds to fill the outdoor wood burning boiler and a check of the dog kennels. I took time to snap a few pictures with my camera. I listened, but the local wolves were silent. Perhaps they weren’t hungry. Or, they spent the night six miles to the west, on their Mead Wildlife Area spruce rendezvous bogs.

The dogs in our kennels were quiet, as were the neighborhood dogs – all nestled in their warm shelters. It was well below zero and not fit outside for man nor beast. So much for howling at the midwinter Wolf Moon.