The Full Frost Moon

My father always waxes poetic about the frosts of November. For him it means hunting season and predawn trips deep into the woods where he will sit quietly and wait. As he’s gotten older the stories he tells most often revolve around past glory and humorous stories of old friends. Time ferments both wine and memories, mulling each with the spices of vineyards and autumns past.

November’s full moon most commonly goes by the name the Full Beaver Moon for its association with trapping and harvesting pelts for the winter months, but I’ll always know it as the Full Frost Moon. Seeing it always will bring to mind the scent of a camp fire on the cold air, the falling leaves, and my father dressed in his camouflage with his face smeared with greasepaint.

Here's a little about November's full moon from the folks at Old Farmer's Almanac.