I'm more than a little peeved these days, what with all I have to do both on the road and in the house: a mountain of writing and maintenance tasks, to say nothing of wood-cutting and -splitting that must be done before the snow arrives, which, sooner or later, it most assuredly will. I'm not complaining, mind you... I'm deeply humbled and happy that editors still want me to write for them, and the fact that my hands and other joints have now recovered enough from the Lyme-induced arthritis to enable me to do the physical work that needs doing is a source of great joy. Really great joy. Still, I miss being able to take an hour or so each day to observe and document the natural world, and by the time I was done with everything today, nightfall had arrived and I wasn't going anywhere... yet again. But as I gave soft voice to peeve-ment, I noticed the moon creeping over the ridge. The full moon of December is known as the Cold Moon, and while it won't be completely full until tomorrow, it's an apt metaphor for the approaching weather. It's almost cold, and as the last of our supermoons arrives, it's scheduled to be absolutely cold.