I should have taken a photo of the full moon when I was outside Wednesday evening. It would have been perfect. Instead I noted the time and decided to wait until last evening.
Mistake. It was cloudy last evening so I took this one early this morning.
January's full moon was called the wolf moon because wolves were more often heard howling at this time.
When I think of howling at the moon, I think of my eldest child.
I don't remember how old Douglas was when he first began his howling habit, but it was at a young age and went on from there - whenever and wherever he felt like it - not just at the full moon.
(Four generations: Doug with his Grandpa Louis and Great-grandma Bessie; me in back.)
He may not howl as often as he used to, but I'd bet he still does once in awhile. I can see Doug trying to get his grandchildren to howl along with him.
I don't know why he developed this trait; I'm not sure I ever asked him. It's just something he did, something uniquely Douglas.
(One of my favorite photos of my son, taken on his 56th birthday.)
Awoooooo! 🌛
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