The Beaver Moon
Full Beaver Moon from my 2026 Full Moon Hand-Illustrated Calendar coming to my shop this month!
November's Full Moon & the Art of Getting Cozy
November's full moon, known as the Beaver Moon, rises on November 15 — and honestly, the timing couldn't be better. This is when the temperature drops just enough that you start eyeing your blanket collection with serious intent, and your houseplants begin their slow descent into winter sadness (sorry, guys).
The name "Beaver Moon" comes from colonial-era trappers who recognized this as the last chance to catch beavers before rivers froze solid. But the real wisdom here isn't about trapping anything — it's about what beavers actually do this time of year. They're not out there living their best life. They're frantically shoring up their lodges, stocking food, and basically turning into extremely industrious homebodies. Relatable.
Beavers don't mess around with preparation. They build lodges with underwater entrances (security system), food storage built right into the architecture (smart), and ventilation that works through feet of ice (engineering degree not required, apparently). The lesson isn't subtle: winter is coming, and hoping for the best is not a strategy.
Home as Verb
There's something about November that makes you want to nest. Maybe it's the early darkness. Maybe it's the realization that you'll be spending significantly more time indoors for the next few months. Either way, the Beaver Moon asks a pretty direct question: is your space actually ready for this?
And I don't just mean physically — though yes, now is a good time to find your favorite sweater before you're desperately cold. I mean the whole ecosystem of home. The relationships that share your space. The routines that ground you. The small comforts you've been meaning to set up but keep putting off. Winter will find every gap in your preparation, emotional and otherwise.
The Beaver Moon is also called the Mourning Moon in some traditions, acknowledging that November is when nature visibly withdraws and we're left with bare branches and a lot of silence. It's not the most cheerful vibe, but there's something honest about it. Fall makes space for grief — for the year that's ending, for what didn't work out, for the seasonal death that's just part of the cycle.
Rituals for the Beaver Moon (That Don't Require Leaving the House)
The beauty of a moon that's all about staying in is that the rituals are extremely low-key. You're probably already doing half of them.
Bless Your Space: Walk through your home with intention. Light a candle in each room if you're feeling fancy, or just acknowledge what each space gives you. Thank your bedroom for rest, your kitchen for feeding you, your couch for holding you through countless Netflix binges. If you want to get witchy about it, cedar or cinnamon incense works well, but honestly just tidying up counts.
Stock Your Comfort Supplies: What are you going to reach for when it's 4pm and fully dark and you need something to make life feel manageable? Gather those things now. Tea you actually like. Books you've been meaning to read. The good chocolate, not the stuff you pretend to enjoy. Art supplies. Whatever your version of "I've got this handled" looks like, set it up before you desperately need it.
Appreciate Your People (and Pets): The Beaver Moon is big on household energy. Put some effort into the relationships that share your space or sustain you from afar. Cook a meal together. Have an actual conversation. Give your cat the fancy treats. Text the friend who always responds. These bonds are part of your winter insulation.
Take Inventory of What You've Learned: Not everything worth gathering is physical. What did you figure out this year? What skills did you pick up, even small ones? What connections did you make? What do you know now that you didn't in January? Write it down. You've accumulated more than you think.
The Cinnamon Thing: Cinnamon is traditionally used for abundance and protection, and it smells good, so there's really no downside. Sprinkle it at your doorstep (your neighbors will think you're either very witchy or very into fall), add it to coffee, bake something. The ritual is just remembering that preparing for winter doesn't have to feel like drudgery.
About the Illustration
For my Beaver Moon piece, I wanted to capture that specific November feeling — the year winding down, the work of making things cozy, the knowledge that you need to get it together before the real cold hits. The composition centers on a dark moon circled by cattails and gnawed branches, because nothing says "preparation" quite like a beaver's engineering projects.
I worked with deep russets and warm golds against a rich burgundy background — the colors of a fire you're trying to keep going as the temperature drops. At the center sits a beaver doing what beavers do: paying attention, staying industrious, building something that will last.
The piece sits right at the threshold between autumn and winter. Behind us, everything we harvested. Ahead, everything we'll need to get through. Right here, the work of making ready.
The Work Before Rest
The Beaver Moon is part of my 2026 Moon Calendar — twelve months of lunar portraits exploring what each full moon has to teach us about living with the seasons instead of against them. November's lesson is pretty straightforward: the best time to prepare was probably two weeks ago, but the second best time is right now.
Winter asks a lot of us. The darkness is long, the cold is real, and there's no skipping ahead to spring no matter how much we'd like to. But beavers have been doing this for thousands of years, and they've figured out the secret: you can't control the weather, but you can absolutely control whether you've got a solid lodge and a stocked pantry when it arrives.
What are you building right now that will hold you through the harder months? What relationships need tending? What small comforts are you setting up before you desperately need them? The Beaver Moon doesn't ask us to do anything dramatic — just to be honest about what's coming and realistic about what we'll need.
This illustration is part of my 2026 Moon Calendar, launching this month! Each of the 12 months features hand-drawn artwork exploring the unique wisdom and energy of that moon. Join my mailing list to receive a 10% discount code — it's the best way to stay connected and be first to know when the calendar goes live.
What are your November rituals? How do you make home feel like an actual sanctuary when you know you'll be spending a lot more time there? I'd genuinely love to hear what works for you.
