Snowshoe, hopefully not broken

Snowshoe, hopefully not broken

The Annishnabe (Ojibway) of this Lake Superior region call the April moon “Broken Snowshoe Moon”.  I’m imagining this is because Winter is in fast retreat, or slow retreat, and the natives look at their worn snowshoes and think, “wow, these need to be fixed before next winter”. 

I could be wrong, but it seems like a good time to look at our snowshoes and skis and determine what needs to be repaired before the next heavy snows settle upon the land. 

The natives of North America called this moon of April by many names, depending on their locales.  Here’s a handful:  Sugar-Maker Moon, When They Set Indian Corn, Moon of the Big Leaves (obviously not around here), Ice Breaking in the River, Frog Moon, Flower Moon, Moon when the Geese Lay Eggs.  You can study them for yourselves at http://www.americanindian.net/moons.html

If I named this month’s moon it might be:  Mud Moon, Moon of Spring Dreams, Moon of Melting Lakes, Snow Melting Moon, Moon of Pussywillows, Moon of the First Green.  Just think!  All around the country and world, we’re sitting under the same full moon, but our conditions and weather patterns and details are all different. 

Our April moon, isn't she beautiful?

Our April moon, isn't she beautiful?

I have no idea how to take a stunning photo of the moon.  What you see is what you get.  She’s overhead about 9 p.m. these days, a little to the south and east.  Out the bathroom window.  Here’s my plan tonight.  I am going outside a little after dark (9- 9:30 p.m.) and confer with the moon.  We’re going to have a little pow wow.  Discuss things.  Get serious.  I suppose, get thankful about life.

So today’s outdoor adventure will be AFTER the publication of this blog.  You guys must simply have faith that the outdoor commitment will happen.  (It’s happened already, really, when Barry and I sipped drinks on the deck in the 40 degree weather this afternoon. I was wrapped in a blanket donned with hat and jacket on our lawn chair.  One of enjoyed a hot bouillon cube and the other a glass of wine, but I’m not telling who enjoyed what.  When the sun shone through the clouds, it felt actually pleasant.)

Because it’s impossible to photograph the full moon in its shining glory, the maple trees decided to offer an imitation of the April moon. 

How did the moon get in that maple tree?

How did the moon get in that maple tree?

I’m happy to think we’re all sitting beneath the same moon.  For all our differences, for all the ways we call things different names and tell different stories…we still sit under the same April moon.  Maybe that knowing can bring us closer together as people.  It’s all the same moon…  (And maybe I’ll tell this same story, except for different names, every full moon for the rest of this year!)

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