A week ago there was a lovely full moonrise. I stood by the lake and waited for the moon to clear the hill and the trees on the opposite shoreline. The wind slowly settled down, and there was a lovely quiet that wrapped around me. The waves calmed and the lake became still. Then the moon appeared – large and pearl colored, and as it rose it seemed that the tops of the trees were supporting it and offering it up to the night sky. I watched and then my ears picked up the haunting call of a loon at the other end of the lake. It all seemed a perfect rite of spring, and I savored this respite from the many worries of the world right now.
The cold has settled in and the lakes are freezing. Throughout the day I watched the clouds and the snow move in. The wind would pick up and blow the snow down the lake, forming whirlwinds of white skimming the ice. As quickly as the snow came in, then the sun would come out. The ice would creak and moan as the heat from the sun combatted the cold of the ice. There were sub-sonic groans that pierced the air. And then the cycle would repeat – snow then sun then snow. But before sunset the skies cleared and there was a beautiful and quiet full moonrise. It lifted over the opposite shore and trees and eventually directed its light on the snow-covered and ice-cracked lake, littered with leaves now encased in the ice.
This past week there was a full moonrise – the strawberry moon, as it’s called. Although I can’t attest to seeing a strawberry tint where I was, the moonrise was beautiful. The sun had set, the wind had stilled, and the night air held the warmth and humidity of the day. Slowly the moon rose above the trees on the opposite shore, clearing them and throwing its reflection into the lake below. If you listened for awhile you could hear the cry of a loon. And in the grasses by the side of the lake, the fireflies started to blink. It was a beautiful night — just the kind we dream of during the bitter cold of winter.