Tag Archives: moon

When the moon hits your eye…That’s Amore!

Sometimes mysterious wild & crazy things just happen.

Like, let’s say, you’re visiting the bathroom early in the evening when–yes! outside the window!–a delicious almost-full moon arises.  It settles between the branches of the poplar trees and winks boldly in the bathroom window singing its song of autumn harvests as it scales the past the colorful leaves, which, of course, one can’t see in the dark.

You search for your camera to try to capture the awesome beauty.  Even though you fully know there’s only six chances in 100 that the camera will capture the Amore of the rising moon without a tripod.

Snap, snap, snap!

You return to bed with a yawn but now dream of love shining through a bathroom window, unexpected delight, Dean Martin crooning “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie..”

The next morning you upload the photos onto the computer.  Yawn, yawn, one shouldn’t let that wily old moon keep you awake.

When–ohmygoodness!–holy moly!–what IS that appearing on the computer screen amidst the rather ordinary photos of a staid respectable moon?

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Endless clink of logs: filling the wood room another moonlit night

Full cold steady stare of white moon’s face illuminates our wood room filling adventures.

Sparkling snowflakes gleam against dark evergreens like fireflies.  Soft and alive and diamond, then gone.

We crank open the heavy wood room door.  An endless winter chore.  Three and a half tall rows of split wood must be hauled in from the tidy silver tarp-covered wood pile and stacked in our wood room.

We fill the unfinished wood room after dark.  It takes three nights because we’re–dare I label it?–almost elders.  It takes middle-aged folks longer than spry young’uns.  We fill maybe an inside row each evening with the heavy maple logs. (In our pioneer youth with willing children, if we were lucky to get willing children to help, we did this in a night.  I swear it was so.)

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Finding your way home again

Here is a little story inspired by blog reader Colleen who was fascinated by a recent comment about some of our inky black nights in the woods.  You can’t see your familiar hands, your feet, your journey to the mailbox. 

(Now that the moon stretches into her fat belly every night it’s like soft lamplight amplified by the gleaming of stars.  Except when it’s snowing, and the firmaments hide themselves behind clouds pregnant with heavy white maternity robes.)

When the pregnant moon births our way through the darkness

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Neil Armstrong, you’re on the moon tonight

Goodnight, Moon. Goodnight, Neil. Thank you.

I just heard the news.

Neil Armstrong has died.  A good 82 years strong, he’s now passed on.

Neil Armstrong walked on the moon on a July evening, back in 1969.

He was my hero, that moon-dust walker, because he plodded in moon-boots, the very first human to walk on the moon, and said, “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

It was my 12th birthday.

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the moon decided.

eye of moon

the moon decided.

curve

that it was a deep enough subject.

that it was worthy of revealing itself to you.

between

the moon winked.

it winked to you in dreams.

and in unexpected blogs.

goodnight, moon.

we’ll sleep sound tonight beneath your waning glory.

grateful for your shining light…and the light you reveal

as we waver between sunset and the dark silence of a

hushed november night,

revealing soft secrets beneath your

autumn tree limbs.

goodnight, moon.  sleep tight.

Lady in the moon

Mysterious Moon

Who says there’s a “man” in the moon?

I think there’s a woman hiding out in her shadows, playing with the branches softly veiling her face.

The moon is definitely female.  She waxes; she wanes.  She changes with cycles.  She appears huge and immense, before disappearing into the tiniest sliver of darkness and embracing emptiness.

She never stays the same.  Not for an instant.  She’s always appearing to lose or gain parts of herself–although in reality she never changes at all.

She’s always talking to the stars, except when she chooses silence.

They say she’s in love with the sun–who is, of course, male–because that orb rules our “doing” and daily activities.

The sun rises and sets without changing its orb-belly one bit.

Until the moon wanders by and teasingly eclipses it–and who knows what really happens in those fleeting moments of darkness when they become One?

The Anishinabe (Ojibway) of our Lake Superior area call her “The Moon of the Falling Leaves” in October.

Moon of the Falling Leaves

Leaves scatter against her face as they rustle in the wind and fall to the arms of earth. 

Next time someone says, “I see the man in the moon!” you may choose to gently correct him.

“No, no,” you shall perhaps say, “It’s a woman up there.  Don’t you see how her body changes?  Don’t you see how she illuminates even the darkest night?  Can’t you see her softly laughing?”

If your listener still disagrees, let him.

But don’t forget to wink back at the Lady in the Moon–quickly, now!–before she shifts and changes again, a chameleon in the midnight skies.

Chili Party at Midnight Under a Full Moon

 

OK, this wasn't last night's moon. We were too busy eating chili to mess with the camera!

Last night I went to bed before 10 p.m. (as usual) and lay there tossing and turning for what seemed to be hours.

At midnight Barry sauntered in from the garage and poked his head into the bedroom.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

I bounded from the bed.

“Let’s have a bowl of chili!”

He stared at me in amazement.

“Chili?”

“Yes, let’s have a bowl of chili on the deck!”

“Chili?” he repeated, “on the deck?  What’s gotten into you?”

(He may have said, “Are you nuts?” but, if so, I refuse to remember that part.)

We had eaten a late lunch/early supper at 3 p.m. yesterday up in Houghton.  We hadn’t eaten a bite since then–and I was suddenly ravenous.

Even though you’re not supposed to eat in the middle of the night.  Food doesn’t digest well on a sleeping stomach, you know.

“Let’s have a chili party!” I repeated, bounding into the kitchen.

I found a can of black bean vegetarian chili in the cupboard and opened it.  Poured it into a pan.  Turned on the gas stove.  Click, click, click went the pilot light.  The fire ignited.  The chili warmed.  The Saltine Crackers were discovered.  The chili was ladled into bowls.

We opened the deck door and ventured out in the balmy eve.  An almost-full moon winked at us through the trees.  We spooned our chili on crackers and munched away.

I thoroughly recommend midnight parties when you can’t sleep.

We felt young, invigorated, wild & crazy, energized.

All because we did something out of the ordinary.  Something unqiue.  Something fun.

What was the last unexpected thing you did to make magic in your life? 

(P.S.  As soon as I can get organized–tomorrow or Sunday–if the photos turned out–I am going to introduce you to a blog reader and her family we met in person this week.  That was magic, too!)

No perfect moons allowed!

People, people!  All of us with our cameras trekking out into the night attempting to photograph the PERFECT super-moon.  All of us trying to find the right f-stops and apertures and ISO’s and support for our shaky cameras.

So many of us coming home in dismay and upset, peering at our imperfect photos of the super-moon, cursing the photographic equipment, slaying our lack of technique (or for some of us–never even reading the manual–bad, bad…) 

Some of us peering at the perfect super-moons on other Internet sites and blogs and despairing, yay–despairing–that we shall never, ever, ever be able to photograph outside in the dark.  Never, ever be able to feature the perfect orange moon portrayed against the sea, the rocks, an old barn.

If this is your scenario, do not turn away from your photos.  Do not hide them in shame and guilt and disgrace.  Do not press “delete” in indignant pain and annoyance. Nay! 

There is nothing more beautiful in the world that an imperfect moon.  (All those perfect moons–they’ll have their moment to shine, for sure.  But the imperfect ones shall remain in our hearts and memories forever.)

Here’s what you must do.  Tonight, vow that you will only take pictures of imperfect moons.  Forget your tripod.  That would be too perfect.  Instead, use the roof of your car.  Run, exhilarated, into the night–chasing the elusive moon as it arises in the sky!

If your mind disagrees–but, no, I must get a perfect shot that will show the incredible orange beauty of the super orb in the sky–say:  NO.  No perfection.  We are out to celebrate imperfection!  No perfect moons allowed! 

Let’s go.  You first.

OK, I will go first, to show you the imperfect exquisite gorgeous fabulous lovely wonderful squiggly impressionable foggy misty unclear unfocused moons which shall reveal their imperfect secrets to us now:

Oh look at how the moon squiggles, how it winks, how it splays itself across our hearts!

 

Oh look at how it diffuses, how it attempts to embrace the entire night sky! No sharp clear concise moon here. None needed.

 

(This one is almost too perfect for our liking--we probably should refuse to show it. But you can see some imperfections if you peer closely enough.)

 

Sometimes, some people like to wear make-up to hide imperfections.  Photographers like to play in software programs like Picasa and Photoshop to enhance photographic strengths and minimize weaknesses.  Some folks approve of this and some folks don’t.  Some people call it “lying” (C’mon, just show us the imperfections!) and other folks call it art.

Let’s go dabble in our Picasa software and paint up the moon a little.  Not because our imperfect moons need it, mind you!  Because we want to play with color and hues and sharpening and all the other neat little tools.  Because art and imperfection like to dance under the full moon.

How about a really imperfect moon masquerading as the sun? What do you think? Can it get away with it?

 

This one put on its Native American regalia and is dancing around the midnight fires. I'm sure.

Ooo la la! Show me some more imperfection, baby!

Finally, here’s a trick question.  Let’s see how much you know about moons.  Question:  is the following photo a moon or a sun?  And how do you know?

When we can't even decide if it's a sun or a moon...

Please, let’s not forget to celebrate imperfection when it comes our way.  Sure, OK, if perfection comes visiting, let it in and admire it.  But let’s dance outside in the driveway with our imperfect suns and moons, our imperfect eyes and faces, our imperfect photography and words.  Let’s howl like coyotes beneath the imperfect moon.  Let’s not complain if our fellow coyote is yipping imperfectly.  Let’s not complain when clouds obscure the sun or moon.  Clouds further enhance imperfection, you know.

Hurray for the perfection of imperfection!

“Speak to us of Reason and Passion.”

Silver moon

Reason and Passion~~by Khalil Gibran

“And the priestess spoke again and said:

“Speak to us of Reason and Passion.”

And he answered saying:

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite.

Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody.

But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements?

Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.

If either your sails or our rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.

For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.

Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion; that it may sing;

And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.

I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two loved guests in your house.

Surely you would not honor one guest above the other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of both.

Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows – then let your heart say in silence, “God rests in reason.”

And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, – then let your heart say in awe, “God moves in passion.”

And since you are a breath In God’s sphere, and a leaf in God’s forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion.”

Thank you, Khalil Gibran, for your wisdom this day.  Thank you, Kathy Smith over at Laurie’s blog Speaking from the Heart, for sharing this gem in the comments.   

The almost-full moon listens to the poetry of his words, rests briefly in the aspen branches, and slowly rises in the night sky.

Gold Moon

Slow waltz of the quarter moon

Someone stole the moon and hung it on a branch

Yesterday I felt absolutely…peaceful. 

Have you ever experienced a day that felt like a soft cushion upon which your soul lingered?  A day so peaceful that nary a breeze blew to disrupt the sense of joy and contentment? 

That was yesterday.  I looked around for an explanation without really caring.  (Who cares about explaining things when one feels that good?)  The only explanation that presented itself appeared on the calendar.  

Yesterday was:  “Nirvana Day” in the Buddhist tradition.  Obviously, I was experiencing Nirvana, right?  Or the residue of Nirvana was spilling upon the world, creating little havens of peace and joy everywhere. 

Maybe? 

Quarter moon on a stick

Then again, maybe it was the Moon.  The Moon is a little more than half way between its fullness and its emptiness.   Some might call it a quarter moon.  A sliver of a waning moon. 

On this upcoming Saturday night it shall be completely New.  Completely empty.  Completely dark.  Yet, now, on Tuesday night, a sliver still lights the world.  

And it’s waltzing across the sky. 

Quarter moon ferns beneath a log

OK, I made that part up.  About the waltzing across the sky.  But we can pretend, can’t we?  They say the moon affects our emotions in so many ways.  It pulls on the tide-waters in our bodies.  It rises and sets in our hearts. 

Today some slight disturbances momentarily disrupted the slow waltz of blissful emotion.  We shall call that disturbance “Filing Income Taxes”.  I sat before the sky of Turbo Tax and punched in numbers for at least an hour this afternoon, until my eyes crossed and I lost almost all sense of equanimity.  

However, it did revive when I discovered that we would be getting a nice refund thanks to the “Making work pay” credit of $400 per person! 

I truly wish the same for all of you.  A week of deep peace as the quarter moon waltzes across the sky…and a hefty income tax refund…  :)