I departed the icy airs of my birth city, St. Louis, on Superbowl Sunday. While most Americans huddled around their televisions, feasting on bean dip and wings, entertained by the lastest installments of creative advertisement, if not by Peyton Manning’s renowned gyrations, I pressed my face against the cold glass of the airplane window and wondered at the Full Snow Moon, in between gulps of cran-apple juice, and essays by Barbara Kingsolver.

The Full Snow Moon was named as such by the native american tribes of the north and east because the heaviest snow usually fell during that moon/month. Some tribes also referred to this moon as the Full Hunger Moon since the harsh weather conditions often made hunting and gathering difficult during February.

Whatever the name, the moon was certainly a sight to behold on February 4th - something that the flight attendant (bless her heart) was not shy to point out to the ten or so passengers aboard the flight. Sadly, not everyone shared her enthusiam for this particularly large and yellowish moon, hanging like an ornament right outside the window, and therefore, left their blinds drawn or resumed reading or napping upon discovering what the excitment was all about.

I suppose the things that we witness everyday, are those that we most easily take for granted - like the moon, the rising sun, people we love, good food in our bellies, the abilities to walk and talk. Ironic how when something is absent, it is oftentimes noticed more than when it is present.