It takes the Moon the same amount of time to go around the Earth as it takes to turn on its own axis. That is why we only see one of the Moon’s faces here on earth. Like a dance partner, the Moon spins as she orbits, in synchronous rotation. Encountering this the other day reminded me of a Smithsonian Magazine article that explained that as the polar icecaps melt and sea levels rise, more water will gather at the equator which has been shown to slow the speed of the Earth’s rotation. What happens to the spin of the satellite as the parent body slows down?
The article also explains that one thing it will affect is how we keep time. We already adjust time to account for the varying length of Earth’s orbit, adding extra minutes as needed. We think time is just time, always going forward, never changing, but the ministrations of the wizards all happen behind the curtain and the inhabitants of Oz power on, never blinking an eye. As the spinning slows down, the wizards may need to take away a second here and there. We tend to notice things more when they are taken away, so perhaps that transition will be more disruptive.
While world has continued spinning and spinning, I have done the things that one does when the sun comes closer and warms everything up. My two cherry trees produced so many cherries that we were processing and processing them. We sent the call out to friends and neighbors but apparently they were processing their own fruit. I eventually had to call in the crows and the turkeys and the squirrels and bluejays to help me. I submerged in the lakes. I witnessed the fireflies and breathed in the smoke from Canadian fires. The haze hung around on the cool days when wind was coming from the north. I performed the activities of daily life and wondered how to write in the midsts of everything unfolding. We stayed close to home this year as the family came to us and only ventured as far as northern Minnesota and Wisconsin locales. And it was satisfying to listen to the loons and the owls, to let our garden run wild, and watch the butterflies come out. My friend noted that it was the sturgeon moon that rose over the St. Croix when we were there, but I hadn’t seen even one. Instead it was the monarchs and the swallowtails that rose and fell with the windy, and even the windless days, as if they, like me, were going nowhere during these summer months. There was a mama bear and her two cubs hanging out near camp this year. Mama had her hands full with all us humans making noise and eating food. Those curious little things were all eyes and ears, lingering closer than she’d like before she could hustle them off into the berry patches, out of sight. And we joked about scooping them into our arms if only they had gotten a little closer.
What will the bears do with one less second of imperial time?
I have been noticing the mowed ditches this year, trees removed, wildflowers shorn to make a little more room for civilization as it barrels past down the highway. But here at home, we let our garden grow and welcome the wild.
So begins a new lunar cycle. May this new moon usher in welcome changes.
