The recent full “Wolf” moon, as it is called in January, hung close to earth for a time in deep blood-red this year, while it eclipsed. A giant pendant, suspended in a haunting, warm, hue that belied the sub-zero temperatures of the Berkshires held beneath it. It lent an eerie glow to the frozen stillness. A silence only sporadically broken by equally eerie, sounds. Freezing sap in trees forced pressure and ripped like shots fired through the dead cold of the night here and there, as bark on trees exploded. A thin moan of water in the stream, as it gave up its movement to the grip of ice. The sharp smack of pine cones landing, then skidding briefly, after hitting the hard, white, ground.
It is very, very cold tonight. I imagine pipes are freezing all over the place. Plumbers are bracing themselves for the inevitable flood of early morning calls as they head to bed, earlier than usual.
