Under the Wolf Moon (Even When the Clouds Roll In)

Another year, another carefully anticipated plan gently unraveled by Mother Nature.

I had hoped to begin 2026 by visiting each full moon as it rose over our beach — a quiet ritual, a marker of time, a way to stay rooted in the natural rhythm of things. But today arrived wrapped in shadowy clouds and sudden bursts of rain, the moon hidden somewhere beyond our reach.

There was disappointment, yes. But there was also an unexpected invitation to slow down.

Instead of walking the shoreline, I found breath in the stillness and rest in listening to the rain fall softly over the marsh. A friend had shared a bread recipe, and with nowhere else to be, I leaned into it — sticky dough on my hands, the oven warming the kitchen, the quiet comfort of a familiar task. As the bread rose, its scent filled our home, grounding the day in something tangible and warm.

But even more meaningful than the bread itself was what followed: watching the faces I love choose how to enjoy their slice. Butter. Honey. Nothing at all. Each preference quietly honored. Each moment shared.

Though we weren’t walking the beach beneath the first full supermoon of 2026 — the Wolf Moon — its meaning wasn’t lost on us. The Wolf Moon speaks of new beginnings, of pack bonds, of survival through the deep of winter.

And that feels fitting.

We are starting this year fresh. We are surviving. Our bonds are growing stronger — through art, through bread, through beach walks when the skies allow, and through small moments like a gentle hug or a shared smile in the hallway.

2026 has arrived, and I’m looking forward to all the full moons and what they bring — whether they find us on the beach, in the kitchen, or curled up together on the sofa.

Sometimes the moon doesn’t need to be seen to be felt.