I have owned the book of this title, by Joseph Wood Krutch, for many years. Its subtitle is "A Perpetual Calendar for the Country." He devotes a chapter to each month, and I am quoting here from the end of his chapter on December, which he has spent mostly ruminating upon snow.
But as we approach a full moon, I thought this paragraph was appropriate to us in the Northwest as well.
"On our moonlight walk we take for granted that it was thoughtfully put there in the sky 'to give a light by night.' But who is, or should be, abroad at the dead hour of four? The moon is there, either for some purpose of her own or for no purpose at all. The heavenly machine is going through its changeless changes even while we sleep. There is certainly no lonesomer hour and no more eerie sight. A dead, white earth; a perfect stillness; and a strange, abnormal moon. At such a moment anything might happen. Or, what may seem even worse, nothing at all might happen--ever again."
We are turning back toward the light.
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