I’m sorry to be so obsessed with the moon lately.  Here you are, coming back for some greenery or spring photos and all I’m doing is jabbering about the moon…yet again. 

Here’s the scene.  Last night:  9:00 p.m, just before dark.  I decided to walk back down to the bay and get a really great shot of the moon reflected in the waters.  Barry and I  fiddled with the little Cybershot Sony camera attempting to figure out ISO and OEV.  Sorry, while the rest of the world might know those photograph terms, I haven’t a clue.  It involves apertures of the camera, light, speed.  We set the OEV at +2.0 and down to the water the camera and I trekked.

Leaning against a sturdy birch tree, waiting for the moon to rise, I snapped a random shot at a nearby tree, or at least in the direction of a tree, for darkness was descending.  Look at this incredible blue!

It's a blue world right before darkness descends

It's a blue world right before darkness descends

Then I waited for the moon.  Waited for the moon.  Listened to a buck snorting behind in the woods.  Listened to a lone honking goose.  Silence.  Waited for the moon.  Fifteen minutes.  A half hour.  An hour.  An eternity.  How long can you stand up against a birch tree before falling asleep?

I pondered our ancestors who didn’t own calendars which insisted the moon would rise.  What if the moon wouldn’t rise?  What if it was refusing to rise?  Was I doomed to chase the moon and never find her?  WHY WOULDN’T SHE POKE HER HEAD ABOVE THE HORIZON?

Finally, the camera decided it was bored and started snapping random pictures in the dark, all of which came out black.  Except for this one looking overhead with a flash:

Birch branches in the dark

Birch branches in the dark

At first I was stubborn and planning on staying all night.  The moon wasn’t going to win this contest of wills.  But finally, like a good tired camper, I gave up.  Decided to walk home.  About a half mile away, or maybe three quarters a mile up the road.

Unfortunately, it was pitch black.  Dark as licorice.  Dark as dark.  The twinkling stars overhead refused to act as guides.  It was one of those dicey walks where you kind of tried to figure out where the road ended and the woods started.  You tried to stay in the middle of what appeared to be a vague clearing.  You just walked.

I only tripped over one minor stick in the road and finally felt my way home.  Fell exhausted into bed, frowning at the memory of that elusive moon.  But grinning at having made it home in blackness!

Barry came in from the garage a little later saying, “Kathy, the moon’s up, do you want to get up, do you want to try to take a picture?”  The answer:  a grunted and definitive no. 

He commandeered the camera and attempted to photo shoot the beautiful rising moon.  Look at his results!  You can’t tell us the moon wasn’t playing jokes last night! 

You call this a moon?

You call this a moon?

Or how ’bout this one?

The calligraphy of the moon

The calligraphy of the moon

OK, OK, apparently you need a tripod to keep things perfectly still for a lengthy time while leaving the shutter open.  Or something like that, anyway. 

I’ve decided that this playful April moon is kind of cool.  She’s not letting anyone make her stick to a schedule, or a definition of who we think she might be.  Shine on, Moon!  (I’m just not staying up tonight to see when you decide to rise in your glory above the tree line.  See you next month…)

Advertisements