As a child who was AFRAID OF THE DARK, I had a mother who reassured me with a reminder that God loved me so much that he hung the moon in the sky so I could have my very own night light. I'm not sure how she assuaged my fears on moonless nights, but the thought was a comfort most of the time.
The moon in all its phases fascinates me. I've never kept straight all of the names of the phases: waxing gibbous, waning crescents...whatever. I call 'em as I sees 'em. Full, half, crescent, slip of a moon. When the sky appears to be moonless, I understand it is still there, and feel a sense of satisfaction once I am able to locate the new moon. When the moon makes a guest appearance during daylight hours, I feel I've been given an extra gift.
My fascination with the night sky began when I was a little girl in Virginia. I can remember staring out the back window of our sedan, watching the trees blur as we sped through the night. The moon would play hide and seek, as it came in and out of view, always following me wherever I went. It was reassuring to know that the moon was my constant companion.
As an early riser, one of the first things I like to do upon awakening is check in with the moon. It is a touchstone of my morning routine. Seeing it beyond the branches of a stand of trees is one of my favorite sights. The moon calms me. Its presence settles my thoughts, and brings me back to the present moment.
With all of the changes of late, I was comforted yesterday morning when I stopped to appreciate the presence of the full moon. My front door's etched oval window has a filigree pattern that was illuminated with a soft glow. Upon closer examination, I noted that the full moon peeked through different places on the filigree design depending on my position in front of the door.
When I first moved into my little house, I mourned the views here, missing the panoramic beauty to which I'd grown accustomed. The mountains loomed above our home, and the few homes in my line of vision only cast a soft glow of light in the dark. We lived beyond the amber glow of street lights on Bullion Canyon Road.
Here, there are streetlights just outside my house that compete with the night sky, diminishing the glow of the nighttime spectacle I had come to appreciate in the canyon of Marysvale. The thought had nagged at me that I was relinquishing photo ops with the moon when I moved.
It was with great delight that I learned of an upcoming lunar event while I was packing in preparation of my move. My "deadline" for moving into my little cottage, April 15, 2014, coincided with a lunar eclipse, also known as the blood moon.
That night, I had fallen asleep early, and when I awoke, I was startled when I realized I had forgotten all about the eclipse. I was not disappointed when I stepped outside, and saw the moon in all its glory. Once again, my old friend was there for me.