It’s probably a mental defect of some sort, not that I particularly care, but I am moderately obsessed with taking pictures of the Moon, its rise and fall, and my childlike fascination with how cell phone cameras distort its light at just the right angle. Like the Reese’s commercial says, “Not sorry.”
Alice and I went out last night for our regular stargazing time (when the weather permits), laying on our backs and recapping the day. We considered the things we had blown off for another time and brainstormed the possibilities for tomorrow as we looked up at the full moon. We had a deep and meaningful conversation about the beauty and wonder of nature, paying especially close attention to how strange our stunning maple tree (which we have named “woke Bruce” – yes, that will be a future entry), and we lamented the loss of shade Bruce provided while celebrating that Bruce was finally able to get some rest and time to recover from the Heat we all had to endure this summer.
I bitched several times about the growing numbers of drones in the night sky, but at that point Alice was more concerned about rolling around on her back for a good scratch and I think she stopped listening. It occurred to me, while she was ignoring me, that the Moon is terribly underappreciated. Think about it… Everybody’s so wrapped up in Sunrises and Sunsets that, like the natural world’s red-headed stepchild, the Moon just doesn’t get nearly the love it deserves.
Just sayin’
