Happy went the gardener when the earthworm arose in the soil to croon its unheard carol. ‘Tis the golden finches, brightening daily yellower as the eye beheld, that offered the musical accompaniment. A gardener kicked off his shoes to curl his toes in the loam, a bright new beginning, a season long awaited, with praise upward bestowed.
So the picture unfolded at Angelkeep, perhaps not the official first day, but the first day when the habitat erupted with the full spectacle of rejuvenation.
With apologies regarding interruptions and selective phrases, but with gratitude and appreciation of poet Henry Beer, “I have a little riddle, I’ll try to make it plain; I’m sure that you can guess it, And call it by its name.”
The March Full Moon also picked up the name of Worm Moon for a very good reason. That was two weeks and two days ago, and a New Moon appeared two days prior to this column.
“We see and hear with wonder, The songs of feathered friends,
E’en early in the morning, Their praise to heaven ascends.”
Was Henry Beer talking about the golden finches singing, or was he referring to the American robins giving thanks for all the abundance once again spread before their hungry bellies like manna spread all over the Biblical ground to be picked up only as needed. Each day new manna arose from the ground for sustenance. For the robin, the Bible story never ended.
Worm Moon had to have been initiated by southern native tribal members. Northern Native Americans could not have known about earthworms until much later, about the period of colonialization. Early ships used soil for ballast, and colonists may have transported some with plants, laden with earthworms.
Angelkeep’s ground, like all other lands forever changed by the ice age glacial spread, resulted with all earthworms obliterated. So the North American Shawnee tribe, and others, referred to our Worm Moon as Sap Moon. It became a time of tapping maple trees for syrup, which can also begin in February.
If the day of Sap or Worm Moon came in with violent storms, the moon’s name changed to Storm Moon, meaning little hope was felt by Anglo-Saxons for their eventual crops. On a dry Worm Moon, the same group rejoiced and called it Rugged Moon, indicating a generous harvest period.
The Pueblo tribe had their own great name, “Moon When the Leaves Break Forth.” Of course this was long before white men forced their tribe to congregate in the southwest desert. Warming Moon used by Shoshones seemed logical, as did Crow Moon, referring to areas when birds returned from migration, but not necessarily the Crow Native American tribe.
Henry Beer certainly referred to the bird migration joy.
“We glance out in the lilacs
And there with craft and toil
We see a nest of robins
All made of straw and soil.
The lambs on sunny hillsides
Do frolic with delight;
The meadows all are glowing
With dandelions so bright.”
Angelkeep kept a steady vigil of daily treks to daffodil beds, plus daily counting of crocus popping their heads gaping at the sunshine. Did you know that the first blooming crocus was a natural sign that conditions were prime for planting early garden such as radishes, parsnips, and spinach?Angelkeep tried eating a parsnip once. Only once. Had a tasty recipe ever been devised for parsnips? Perhaps a bacon-wrapped parsnip would do well dipped in spicy salsa.
Henry Beer said, “The plows are making furrows; The farmers o’er the land, Prepare the ground for seeding, With earnest, watchful hand.”
While Angelkeep writes about busting myths, 1945 Life magazine invented standing an egg on end for Equinox, and Equinox stands literally a myth, as no days of the year have equal night and day times, but the Equinox is the closest day to it.
“Now can you name this season, When birds and nature sing?
I believe that you have guess it, I believe you’ll say it’s ‘Spring.’”
Mr. Daugherty is a Wells County resident who, along with his wife Gwen, enjoy their backyard and have named it “Angelkeep.”
