I signed us up for the Kids Moon Club last year, after learning about it from a friend in Chattanooga. Twelve months of activities based on lunar cycles called to my witchy mama heart, and starting the year at a place with a clear view of the southern sky seemed perfect for moongazing.

We dove into January with all the enthusiasm of an ADHD family with a new hyperfixation...and then abandoned it just as quickly. We moved, I forgot about it, and then when I remembered I needed to renew my payment to get the second half of the year, and I didn't feel like I should spend the money if we hadn't done anything with it while we had access.

This year we are trying again.

A lot of this program is observation and mindfulness, more than it is crafting, food, and celebration--although those all factor as well.

Mindfulness is a word I struggle with, and anyone you know with ADHD will likely tell you the same. The very nature of the ADHD brain makes it hard to be mindful of anything, because our neurotransmitters can't quite get our thoughts from the moment they fire to when we are aware of them in a fast enough manner to do much with them. I am aware of lunar cycles, observing the moon, speaking to her, and keeping the dates of full moons in my head. But I rarely keep any sort of ritual associated with lunar cycles because I just can't remember to plan.

This year, this program feels like it is about allowing grace for that. That it's okay not to do everything. My friend at Whole Heart Homestead and I have decided to be accountability buddies, getting our kids together for new moon and full moon walks, and talking through the activities together. Mindfulness. Observation. What do our senses take in? What do we feel?

Because of our Covid exposure we have already had to miss the first full moon walk of the year, but my family still went out Sunday (the actual full moon day it was cloudy, snowy, rainy, windy, and altogether an Inside Day). We didn't intend to take a moon hike. We just wanted to walk to the edge of our property line, and then to the shoulder of the mountain beyond. But as we were out at sunset, the sun disappearing behind one mountain and the moon peeking over another, it inspired Kairi and I to go back out after dinner. Armed with hot tea, hot chocolate, and some treats, we hiked in the moonlight up to a place we call Fairy Rock (due to the numerous mushroom fairy rings around it this summer), and just enjoyed the quiet, and the stillness. Kairi was in slight disbelief over how bright it was, and it occurred to me she hadn't really seen the full moon on snow before. We listened to the wind whipping leaves stuck to the birches so quickly it almost sounded like machinery. We howled. We talked about how the moon would now be waning, and what we wanted to let go of in the remainder of this cycle. We lay on our backs in the snow, moongazing. Observing.

And then our fingers started to get so cold they were hurting, and we made our way back to our house; a picturesque cabin with warm light glowing on the snowy ground.