Autumn is finally, officially gone. Like the evening of the day, the fall has been a time of ceaseless alteration. Cold, in the autumn, is overcoming the heart just as darkness, in the evening is overcoming the light. – Edwin Way Teale

The Moon in December

The Moon enters its last quarter on Dec. 14

The Moon is new on Dec. 20

The Moon enters its second quarter on Dec. 27

The Sun: The 14th of the month, sunset begins to occur a minute later every two to three days. This small advance, however, is offset by the sun rising later in the morning. And the point-counterpoint of time lost and gained creates a weeklong standoff around winter solstice during which the day’s length remains its shortest of the year, nine hours and 20 minutes in this location.

The Stars: Traveling relatively close to Mars and Jupiter is the bright star, Arcturus (the fourth-largest star in the sky), just west of those planets. Low in the northeast, Vega is rising.

Meteors: The Geminid meteors fall before dawn in Gemini on Dec. 13-14.

Weather Trends: The Dec. 15 Front: This cold wave can bring below-zero temperatures as far south as the Border States, and double-digit below-zero temperatures enter the realm of possibility in the Ohio Valley.

Zeitgebers: Events in Nature that Tell the Time of Year: The absence of migratory birds magnifies the rattle of the remaining downy woodpeckers, isolates the calling of the crows, the chatter of sparrows, chickadees, titmice and kingfishers. Solitary sparrow hawks are back to hunt mice. Only a few ducks overwinter on the rivers. Now barberry shows off its scarlet berries better than at any other time of year. Blood-red staghorns remain on the sumacs. In the garden, hardy flowering cabbage and kale show off their rainbows under clouds or sun. Without snow and ice, the leaves dapple the ground with brindle chromatics, bronze, cinnamon, hazel, fawn, chocolate.

Farm and Garden Time: Plant your bedding plants under lights with gentle radiant heat provided below the flats, if possible. Root grape vine cuttings, too. Check on bulbs that you dug up in autumn, making sure they are not getting moldy.

Journal

The fallen leaves are coming apart now, letting go of their shapes, dissolving back into the ground. I can’t tell a box elder from a maple or an Osage or mulberry leaf. The leaves accept the rain, their resilience turned to receptivity by the freezing and thawing. Their surfaces have become porous and absorbent, sometimes skeletal, letting all the weather through, offering no resistance.

On the north side of my home, the ferns have fallen across the hostas, providing a mantle of protective mulch. Amaranth is bowing to set its seeds, the weakening of the stalk contributing to the planting. Black pokeberries dangle on their soft, dried stems. Snapdragons finally succumb to the cold, their foliage dark green with the freeze. Japanese honeysuckle leaves are blackening. Foxtail grasses cling to one another, waving in the wind. The crisp zinnias bob and sway.

Almanack Literature

What’s in YOUR water?

By Rick Taylor, Norwich, Ohio

It was back on Independence Day in 1976 when an old neighbor called me and said: “My water tastes funny!”

So, I drove up to his place, and we walked down to his dug well, which was along a township road. We looked down in with a flashlight and discovered two whistle pigs (groundhogs) lying at the bottom of the well.

So, I went and got my wooden extension ladder and buckets. I bailed most of the water out of that 32-foot-deep rock-lined circular wall one bucket at a time and then lowered the ladder down where there were still several feet of water. At the bottom, I was colder than a well-digger’s fanny.

When I put the groundhogs in the bucket, their hides came off and their skin was as smooth and soft and white as baby’s skin. And the cold had kept the pigs from getting too rank, and their odor wasn’t very bad. I bailed out the rest of the water and went home tuckered out at age 28, and I didn’t go to celebrate that 4th of July at all.