Around six tonight I suddenly remembered it was the eve of February’s full moon. I ran outside with my camera and tripod to get a few shots as it rose in the front yard over Buck Mountain. The moon’s light on all the snow made it so bright that within a few minutes of my eyes adjusting I could have walked anywhere I wished without any extra light.

A far-away friend recently asked me if you could see any stars from my farm. Well, here’s your answer. Even on a full-moon night, the stars pop out of the sky.

It’s nights like these that I’m again reminded why I like to leave the hay standing in the front field over winter, instead of bush hogging as most people do in fall. Not only does it create lots of habitat—the place is riddled with deer beds, and Tucker is constantly hunting voles and rabbits out here—it also makes a more interesting picture. And, I love the golden color of the standing grass. In the grey darkness of winter, I will take color anywhere I can get it.

Full moon with Chamaecyparis obtusa, in foreground, and Juniperus virginiana, at far right. Cultivated and wild, planted by me and sown by birds, respectively.

Winter garden, under 15″ of snow. I am loving the architecture of the rock wall beneath the snow, and how something so low and jagged has been smoothed into great pillows lining the bed.

There’s another little clipper system on the way, and even in the fifteen or so minutes I was out taking photos the clouds started to thicken and obscure the full moon. We’re supposed to pick up another inch or so of snow overnight, but next week temps are forecast to be in the 60s. Undoubtedly all the daffodils will be tricked into thinking it’s spring, only to be dumped on by the snow that always falls into March.

One of the things I like best about the farm is that the sun sets behind the woodline at the back of my property, and behind the soft mountains that are beyond the woods.  In the winter, the silhouettes of trees—including the gigantic oak right behind the house—throw up a stark background that’s not unlike an expertly lit stage set. I like being out here as the stars wheel into place above me, and I like feeling small under those giant trees.

January 3, 5:08 p.m. Lenticular cloud over the little mountain in that’s visible out my front door, seen from afar.

Up at the house at dawn last Thursday morning to finalize the window trim. I ducked into the wellhouse to get some tools. When I emerged, this is what I saw. It was an action-packed day as the HVAC installers arrived on site at 8:30 a.m., right at the same times as the trim guys and framers, who were setting the last, most important window (the triple in the front gable).