Thus, language, ideas and much else besides, cross our borders with impunity — no anti-virus measures here!
So I raise my lonely protest at being told where and how to see the latest “rare” blue supermoon — I pronounce such “filler” stories as obnoxious cultural intrusions with no useful purpose.
These various moons are not rare at all — they happen every year, as regularly as eclipses of both the solar and lunar variety.
The size or colour of the Moon is mostly indistinguishable to the average observer, apart from the well-known Moon illusion when close to the horizon, or tinted by atmospheric conditions.
For astronomers, the Moon is described by its phases. (We capitalise the word to denote our moon as opposed to the hundreds of others out there — around other planets and even asteroids.)
There are eight phases — new Moon, waxing crescent Moon, first quarter Moon, waxing gibbous Moon, full Moon, waning gibbous Moon, last quarter Moon, waning crescent Moon.
For millennia, these phases have been used as humanity’s first calendar — helping people to know when to hunt or fish for certain species, when to plant or harvest crops, and when to expect the changing seasons and weather.
In America, each month of the year has a full moon with at least one name and story, typically from Native American Indian and early settler lore.
Each name is associated with a month, starting with January — Wolf, Snow, Worm, Pink, Flower, Strawberry, Buck, Sturgeon (Aug), Corn, Hunter’s (Oct), Harvest (Sept or Oct), Beaver and Frost (Nov), Cold (Dec).
As can be guessed, these names were associated with the activities undertaken at that time of year, usually connected with food supply or natural events stimulated by the weather.
Of course, other counties and cultures over time have had their own Moon names, derived from their way of life and location on the planet.
It should be obvious that a Strawberry or Sturgeon Moon has no relevance in New Zealand, because Southern Hemisphere seasons differ from those in America or elsewhere.
The American names have no meaning here because we have no beavers or sturgeons and harvest our strawberries at a different time of the year.
Perhaps we should have Haybale Moon, Gumboot Moon or Kowhai or Kahawai Moon, instead of carelessly and thoughtlessly adopting American culture. (Perhaps it should be recognised as American CULL-ture for its effect on others?)
If you hear a strange, high-pitched noise in the distance one night, it will not be me howling at the Moon . . . I will be screaming as yet another Coke bottle falls from the sky to litter our cultural landscape.
