Full Wolf Moon Wolf Moonrise The winter sunset shades to deep pink in the east as the Wolf Moon rises over the hill, encircled by the branches of an oak tree. The moon still looks a little hard-edged and flashed out, but at least I managed to get a little detail on it. Usually under these conditions the moon looks like a flashlight in the sky, just a hard bright circle, but it was moderated somewhat, perhaps by the branches in front of it. And I finally caught that pink glow over the horizon fading to the faded turquoise of a winter sky in the east, opposite a sunset, on a clear, cold night. . . . . . . . I quickly shot this photo as I packed my camera equipment out of my car on my way to the paranormal investigation at Andrew Carnegie Free Library & Music Hall January 7, 2012. My family, especially my mother, had a strong tie to the place; in the houses you can see near the bottom of the photo, my mother was born and grew up in the one you can see the best, the yellow one. . . . . . . . A few months after I’d published this image, a conservation organization in California asked permission to use the image in their newsletter to accompany a poem by William Carlos Williams. Would I mind… The Hills Conservation Network (HCN) of Oakland CA published one of my photos, “Wolf Moonrise”, in their latest newsletter. The HCN was formed after the devastating 1991 East Bay Hills fire. In a state known for wildfires this was the worst one to date in 1991, killing 25 people and injuring 52 others, leaving some 10,000 people homeless by destroying 3,354 single-family homes and 456 apartment units. The group formed to help organize efforts in restoring the scarred land while preparing for other wildfires in a way that would mitigate future damage as much as possible. They publish a quarterly newsletter, and in this case the Winter 2012 was “celebrating trees”. They would publish a poem by William Carlos Williams entitled Winter Trees and wanted my photo to illustrate. No one has to twist my arm to have a photo published along with a poem by William Carlos Williams, and while I didn’t remember this particular poem once I read it I was in full agreement, especially at the lines: A liquid moon/moves gently among/the long branches. I am also glad to help an organization whose mission I support, and those interested in carefully reforesting and restoring the land and preparing wisely for future actions. Click here to read the newsletter; my photo and the poem are on page 3. . . . . . . . For a print of any photo, visit “purchasing” for availability and terms. For photos of lots of black cats and other cats—and even some birds as I first published this post there—visit The Creative Cat. 00Share this:Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading... Related Post navigation January RainRelic No. 48: Cotton 0 Comments lovely Loading... Reply […] Cookie’s picnic table bench from a morning Cookie and I were in the yard in October 2011, the “Wolf Moon” in the bare tree and the sunset with the evening stars references to my mother who also passed at this time in 2011. […] Loading... Reply Leave a Reply Cancel reply This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.