Strawberry Moon
I went to Cape Cod over the weekend, to visit my mother on Mother’s Day. On the drive up, The Moon was huge and yellow and Huge. It was so distracting that I had to pull over and look at it for a while before I could get back to driving with any confidence. You see, there’s some part of me that never really got used to the idea of the moon. Somehow, a full moon always has an effect on me; that little part always screams “What is that!?” every single time I see one. Does anyone else do that? Or, I wonder if everyone has something like that; a common occurrence that maintains a sense of wonder no matter how often they experience it. I hope so, because it’s really a very nice thing to have. On Saturday, the moon still looked full and large, and now it was set in a sky of quickly moving clouds that gave it such a mysterious, and unearthly savor. I would have liked to have been able to place something suitable under it as well (a bayou or a desolate moor, for example. Maybe something in a nice crumbling ruin…) but had to settle for the kettle pond near my mother’s house, which was not bad except that it lacked seclusion. But it made a scene at least good enough for a short bout of quixotic reverie. Fortunately, I am able to slip in and out of such trances with the ease of a spiritual narcoleptic, and was even back in time for Saturday Night Live (which was actually pretty good; I have to grudgingly admit that Justin Timberlake has better comedic timing then a lot of actual comedians who have been on recently, but I digress…) Then, on Sunday, I helped my mother plant some flowers; roses, phlox, lupines, poppies, peonies, geraniums, strawberries…