The Moon

I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day. ~Vincent Van Gogh

As usual during the nights of the waxing moon, I haven't been able to sleep very much. The last two nights, though, the moon has been amazing in its beauty. Its color and size have made it look like a luscious piece of fruit laid on a bed of blue velvet as it has risen.

Nights like this make me want to go walking in the pasture and in the woods, trailing my fingers through the long grasses and across the leaves. There are deer in the pasture, and on nights silvered like this, the angle of the light makes me feel as though I could run with them, fleet-footed and graceful.

I wish I were at the Red Field, at our shack in the pasture, tonight, so I could see the sky unobstructed. I think there is no better place to observe than the porch there. It's so peaceful and lovely.

No matter how far we come into this technological age, we cannot escape the old magic of the moon. Maybe something in our blood surges in response to it just as the tides are pulled by it. We're fascinated by it. It shows up in our songs, in our poems, even in advertising and decoration.

Maybe it's just the change in perspective it lends to everyday scenery. Even things that are not at their best (and I guess even we ourselves can fall into that category) are somehow made lovely again. What a wonderful gift to receive every month.