Saturday, December 2, 2017
Almost 5 a.m., outdoors..
A big round moon is lighting up sheer shreds of silken clouds this morning, and the creek is soaking up and sending back that light to us as well.
The heavy frost on roof and ground is gleaming, and the valley mist is glowing.
It is really magical and lovely--25 degrees or not!--and there is not a whiff of wind to make that cold feel bitter.
Friday, December 1, 2017
3:30 a.m., and a restless dog paces in the cold outdoors. A clear sky is peppered with stars, and the creek waters beam in the light of a bright moon waxing to full.
The air is still, and at 30 degrees, frost is beginning to form. It feels sharp on my skin, and I hope my big dog doesn't forget why he so urgently wanted to be outside; what he wanted to do, and where.
As for me, I think of the warmth of my quilts and the comfort of fresh hot coffee, however early.
And I welcome the new month, December. She has her own beauties, and she brings in the Season of Christmas.
Thursday, November 16, 2017
I like to stand in winter darkness
among my woodland trees,
to look into the winter skies
and wish I could be transported upward,
to walk among the stars.
Denuded of their leaves,
trimmed and pruned and starkly
sculptured by the winter winds,
the trees around me stand with arms upraised,
in tribute to the same skies I admire.
In the cold of long, dark winter nights,
the stars do seem to grow,
moving ever closer to me,
inviting me to touch them one-by-one
with my own hands.
Yet I stand stricken into quiet stillness,
awed by an eternal miracle;
one among the many miracles
that I, mere human,
have the privilege to witness,
as I walk God's earth..
---Rose Moore, Nov. 2017
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
Sunday, November 12, 2017
Mick and me at 4:30 a.m., Sunday morning... I wonder how 27 degrees can feel so mild...
Over our heads the sky is wrapped in soft strips of star-sequinned cloud, like the biblical Salome's seven veils; pinned with a slender moon crescent...
Bare trees stand tall in the moonlight; there is no breeze at all; and no sound...
Mick walks quiet beside me, taking his time...
It seems the day, when it rises, might be a fine one.