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Call it Cold, call it the Long Nights Moon. It is here tomorrow, and if it’s not too cloudy where you are, you should get outdoors to try and appreciate it. This is because it will appear larger than normal, due to its proximity to earth. Referred to as the Cold Moon by Native American Indian cultures, this was due to its proximity to the Winter Solstice, marking the longer nights and the colder section of the year. Here are some notions to mark the occasion and keep the Solstice celebration going all weekend long!

Build a bonfire or make a firepit fire to moon gaze under. You may even catch a meteor shower this year, if you’re far away from the city lights. Toast marshmallows and make homemade Moon Pie cookies, putting the melty goodness between two small graham cracker-style cookies (see recipe below). This is always an ideal time of year for quiet reflection. Choose the scrying method of your choice (I prefer a detailed tarot read that I can note in my Book of Shadows) and meditate on what the signs have to tell you as guides for the coming year. Consider your immediate past, present, and future: are you focusing your energies on being your best self? Imagine how you can better align any areas of your life that are out of whack. Your relationships will suffer if not all is right with you. Plan a “me time” date with yourself once a week throughout the month of January and stick to it. This can be both a time of letting go and replacing the dark with more positive energies and activities in your life.

On this full moon I lie here in an empty bed. I'm not sad or lonely, just slightly anxious. Why? My husband is driving a four hour round trip for work and the weather is to turn nasty. 

So I take some time to enjoy this alone time. The kids are in bed as well. 

This post is mirrored from my Wordpress blog, Priestessing the Dream

March brings us not one by two Full Moons -- the second month in 2018 to offer us this phenomenon, known as a Blue Moon. The first of March's full moons occurs on March 1. Known as the Worm Moon, this moon asks us to focus on what we need to fertilize or prepare in order to get ready to plant our dreams, goals, and projects for the Spring. Occurring midway between the Imbolc Sabbat and the Spring Equinox (March 21), this moon is ideal for reflection on what it is we want to bring forth and what we need to do to prepare the soil to nourish those things we plant. This year's Worm Moon is in Virgo, which amplifies the focus on work, on practical and direction action, and on attention to detail.

I stand outside bathed in a warm glow of light and the Harvest Moon whispers to me…

I know your secrets
I know your joys
I know your sorrows
I know who you are.

From ancient times, humanity has named its surroundings.  Was this to create a connection, feel more in control or just a way to identify what could be at times an unfriendly environment?  We probably will never know for certain but one of the things we do have are remnants of their naming like the full moon names.  These names give us a hint into how ancient peoples identified with their surroundings and tracked their seasons.

For early agricultural communities, June began a slow trickle of early crops like strawberries.  Imagine going all winter with little to no fresh fruits or vegetables.  Perhaps the community even ran low enough on food that hunger was a part of daily life.  Then to work all spring to get crops in the ground so next winter you hoped not to fall short.  Then June comes and the creamy flowers of strawberry plants indicates soon the first red berries will be there.  Imagine how much sweeter these taste after struggling for enough food.  Naturally as this important fresh food became available, the people would logically name the full moon strawberry. This name comes from both Celtic and Algonquin lineage so perhaps it was a staple and a pleasure for both groups.  Was it because it was one of the first crops or because the flowers of this plant are the same milky white color as the moon?  Probably we will never know. 

If you didn't know it was a ritual, you wouldn't know it was a ritual.

An hour before moonrise, we gather at the coven bench in the park.

We swap news, laugh, eat fruit and cookies. Our newest member is just now back from five months in the Middle East; it's Sun and Moon to my eyes to see her again. She's giddy with the freedom of it all: public paganism. Being second generation, she'd never experienced the broom closet before: the pagan generation gap.

We toast her return with (ahem) iced tea from the thermos.

Somewhere behind the tree line, the full Moon is rising unseen. We sing to her, then go downhill to the lake.

Each has her own intent. Silent, we circle the already-dark water, its surface stippled with south wind; soon the Full Moon will shine from its midst. The power builds as we go.

"They say the moon is feminine. What will happen to me if I bathe myself in the creative feminine?"