We know the names for months but not the full Moon names. Wolf, Snow, Worm, Pink, Strawberry, Buck, Sturgeon, Corn, Hunter, Beaver, and Cold. It used to be a calendar method for phases of the year. May, which I missed, is the Flower Moon. The time when flowers, particularly wildflowers, are bursting into bloom.
I like early spring and the arrival of snowdrops, violets, celandine, anemone, cowslip, primrose. But it’s correctly celebrated for May when nature has fully awoken. Still fresh, not the flourish of later summer, but wild flowers are everywhere.
Did the change from one calendar method to another correspond to separation from nature? I’m not sure, and the Moon as such does not represent nature, but there’s probably a connection. Less Moon, more incandescent light. Curtains and television, not that silvery glow with a mysterious feeling of other.
Some months ago, leaving a supermarket, I had to restrain myself from stopping in the middle of the road and gazing at an astounding Moon. When I reached the pavement I did gaze, then with some research found it was recognised as exceptionally large. That’s why I paused for a second, then recovered, in the middle of the road.