We had this gift the other night, of the May full moonrise. If you’ve been reading this blog, or in the northeast, you know what kind of winter we had: freaktastic amazeballs! It was really something, the roof-jumping and epic shoveling, sledding down our dirt road with Mr. Crafty one afternoon, and sparkling mornings when I was almost late for work taking pictures of all the beauty. And me, I’m a cozy, winter-loving soul! I love it absolutely and fiercely and I would never complain. Or move to any place without four seasons.
In Maine we have two big seasons, winter/summer, and two small seasons, fall/spring. Having grown up in Massachusetts, just a wee bit south, I internalized a more equal time frame for the seasons; spring comes a few weeks earlier down there and fall lasts just a bit longer. So up here, things do tend to drag on a bit long, and I am always ready for summer and winter to be done. They just stay a smidge too long. And when the next season comes, it’s so amazing because we are *so* ready.
The other night I got into bed early to read. And as is the usual pattern, it’s like a superpower sense for my boys/husband, they feel it immediately and they FLOCK to my room. Of course, I will always put my book down and give them my attention instead: which tie goes with what shirt, did I care to know about something obscure (always), did I know where _________ is?, what’s another word for _______?, loveyou/goodnight, etc. So first came Sylvan for a goodnight; then Mr. Crafty came in and turned off the lights: “Look outside! It’s incredible!”
So we laid in bed, the three of us—oh, wait! Here comes Jonas to make it four! —and we looked out the bedroom window at the rising spring moon. The high clouds made a halo around that golden peach, but the halo was the most unusual shade of iridescent bronze. Each bud on the branches of the trees was silhouetted in that creamy, glowing light. And the rest of the sky was slate colored, more gray and blue than black. Every now and then there were thicker clouds that would scuttle by the moon’s face, obscuring it, and this was the thrilling part: watching the moon and colors go dark, then emerge again. All snuggled up, we took it in together.
Better than my book.