The world is porous. God is everywhere. Intention is life. Soul is flesh. Winter is nurture. Presence enfolds. Step is communion. Touch is thanksgiving. The dead are alive.

Hepatica Sun, The Skunk Cabbage Manifesto

THE ASTRONOMICAL OUTLOOK
The Tufted Titmouse Moon, entered its second quarter on December 24, and it waxes throughout the period, becoming the full blue moon (the second full moon this month) on December 31 at 2:13 p.m.

At bed time, find Taurus right in front of giant Orion. Then look behind Orion for the two bright stars of Castor and Pollux, the anchors of Gemini. Behind Gemini, almost like a person walking, comes Cancer. On the far eastern horizon, the largest star is Regulus, which tells you that you are looking at the constellation of Leo.

THE WEATHER IN THE FINAL WEEK OF EARLY WINTER
    Christmas and the 26th are typically the brightest days of the week, bringing  a 70 percent chance for sun. The 28th is the darkest day of December's fourth week, with a 70 percent chance for clouds.
    Snow falls half the time on the two days before New Year's Day. The 26th is typically the coldest day of the week and has a 40 percent chance for highs just in the teens or 20s.

THE ALMANACK DAYBOOK
FOR THE WEEK THE TUFTED TITMOUSE SINGS
December 26 – The weather typically calms as high-pressure builds five to six days after winter solstice. The moon’s relatively weak position for the next few days should complement the weather, making this weekend a quiet and maybe even restful period to work with your family, sheep and cattle.
December 27: Milder December weather near the Great Lakes may open pussy willows and draw up snowdrops, crocus and aconites as the days expand, and along the Gulf of Mexico, the sun is already shortening the dormancy of trees and shrubs, hurrying the gestation of spring.
December 28: The snow and the overwintering robins pull off the honeysuckle berries. Winterberry branches are dropping their fruit. Bittersweet hulls continue to split away from their branches.
December 29: As the weather gets colder, wild game moves to areas where cover is thickest. For deer, mating season is over. White-tailed bucks have their gray winter coats now, and they are starting to drop their antlers.
December 30: Tomato and pepper plants, seeded in middle summer and brought inside before frost, could be continuing to produce fruit in a south window or greenhouse. Basil, parsley, rosemary, thyme and oregano are also doing well.
December 31: At the end of early winter, the honeysuckle berries are down to only a small percentage of their late November numbers. The butterfly bush leaves are finally showing the stress of the cold days; Japanese knotweed leaves are almost all down, and the oakleaf hydrangea leaves are twisted and contracting, starting to fall. All the hulls have disappeared from around the orange bittersweet berries.

SANDHILL CRANES REVISITED
    I received this e-mail from John Blakelock in response to last week's column about sandhill cranes in Yellow Springs, Ohio:
    “I first saw the cranes on December 9, 2007.  I was working for Chris Moore, putting a brick facing on a chimney at the Thistle Creek development.   I always hear the cranes before I see them, and something mystical intoxicates me...it's like slipping into the dream state...a heightened consciousness.   Their call sounds like a downward glissando on a wooden xylophone.   They chatter so, gossiping amongst themselves about the silly humans below.  I was like, ‘Oh my God, those are CRANESSSSS!’   We only saw about a dozen that day.   Chris told me he was out there on the weekend, tooling the joints, and saw hundreds: ‘They came and circled, and then more groups kept joining them, and finally, when they were all together, they headed off again south.’
    “This year I saw 18 on December 10… in Huber Heights…. I saw a lot more on the 13th.   I was working on my own house, up on scaffolding again….   I was looking up at these wonderful wispy clouds: they looked as if they had been dragged and smeared by the jet stream.   I was thinking I should take some pictures of them to send to the Weather Channel.  And then there was that weird sound, and my initial reaction is always disbelief, and then they appeared past the overhang of my roof. I called my mom because she is dying to see them. She could hear them. There were scores of them! The path they followed was like an amateur drawing on an Etch-a-sketch: south, then west, then south again. ‘They're headed towards the High School!’ I shouted into my cell phone.  She said she could hear them. I ran inside and grabbed the AA batteries out of the charger and loaded them into my camera and grabbed my keys and jumped into the car. I flew down Dayton Street, took a left on East Enon.   Turned right on Hyde.  Coming out of the huge dip at Jacoby Valley …, I got a glimpse of the flock.  
    “ ‘There they are!’ I shouted. ‘I can see them!’  I took a left on the road that runs past Green Joint, just past that church, briefly was on 235, then Routsong, finally saw them again as I approached Linebaugh, took a left and after half a mile slammed on the brakes and turned into somebody's driveway, and I intercepted them. 
    “I saw them again on the 16th.  Actually heard them, from inside my house, they were making such a racket!  They were circling over Mills Lawn, about a hundred of them. I called my mom and grabbed my camera and jumped in the car but lost them on Dayton Street. They just vanished. 
    “I will never get jaded about seeing cranes, it's like seeing angels. I get ecstatic about them.”