Moon Waxing

Off you go at the end of an October afternoon, camera slung around your neck and Spencer trotting happily along at your side. The sky is vast and blue all the way to the horizon, no edges and no limitations, only a flock of singing geese crossing it now and again as a natural counterpoint and providing a spontaneous harmony that would make any choral composer envious. A sanctus or a kyrie eleison?

The waxing moon coming up over the red and gold maples is pearly, luminescent and too beautiful for mere words, so we aim the camera upward in a momentary expression of serendipity - no tripod, no telephoto lens and no pause for detailed calculations. Surprise, surprise, the results of our clicking turn out after a fashion, a small gift at the end of a perfect autumn day.

Before the rising of the light this morning, we (Spencer and I) took our coffee out into the garden and watched Orion as he danced his way above the horizon and climbed (still cavorting) into the early darkness. This evening's reading is astronomer Chet Raymo's lyrical volume on the plethoric beauties of night, the stars and our whole magnificent cosmos, "The Soul of the Night", and a borrowed copy of his more recent "When God is Gone, Everything Is Holy" rests easy on the library table - I eye it with pleasure whenever I pass by.

These late autumn days are my very own season and time, and they sing their delight in everything that moves in this blue and gold world. Spencer hums as he potters his way along, sniffing everything in sight - to a young German Shorthair Pointer, the world is a fabulous place indeed. Me??? I just croak along and smile, marveling like a child at the wonder of it all.