That Splendid Harvest Moon

September's moon is my favorite in the whole turning year. It is also (above all others), the one I can't describe or take a good photo of, no matter how extensive my preparations and meticulous my labors. Every year, I potter out to a good vantage point set up camera, telescope and tripod, check everything out and wait for night to fall. The moon rises, and I stand breathless in the darkness trying to capture her with my lens, clinging to a scant handful of woefully  inadequate words to describe the most beautiful moon of the year. Bearing witness to this month's full moon is a personal seasonal rite, and if I had to brew up a name of my own for it, that name would be "Hallelujah Moon".

I once described the matter as something of a cosmic joke, the business of standing outside on September full moon nights and taking photo after photo but never a good one. Well, here we are again, another glorious Harvest Moon has gone by, and another sheaf of mediocre images has been captured. It brings to mind the Zen teaching tale in which an elderly monk on his deathbed was asked to describe his journey through life and replied cheerfully, "just one mistake after another..."

Saturday night's full moon was impressive, but in the greater scheme of things, it doesn't matter how my efforts turned out, and I should remember that - it was just being there that mattered. I was delighted to be around for another glorious harvest moon, and I hope to be around for many more. The moon rose, and we (Beau and I) stood out in the darkness together, watching her and knowing we were right where we should be. As we packed up our stuff to come indoors later, we couldn't help thinking that such magnificence deserved a gesture of some kind, a chorus, a chant or a benediction - something grander and more luminous than our rickety bows and sighs of contentment.