I’ve overslept, was my first thought this morning as light streamed through a crack in the curtains. It’s my writing day and I didn’t want to miss a minute.
Bleary-eyed and switching on the kettle, I checked the kitchen clock. 5.30 am. Looking through the blinds, the sky on that side of the bungalow was darker. Oh well, I’m up now. I’ll enjoy the peacefulness, I decided.
My husband peered around the lounge door an hour later. “Have you seen the moon?” Ah, I had forgotten about that. Suddenly everything made sense.
Luminosity cascaded through as I tugged the bedroom curtains back, and in minutes, armed with my camera and pulling a dressing gown around me, I stepped out onto the patio.
The 2020 penultimate full moon is called the Beaver Moon. How lovely, I’m fond of the charming animals, but after checking the reason why on the internet I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not.
The Strawberry Moon earlier in the year was a plump rosy orb. The saying ‘once in a Blue Moon’ has its reasons. So does Harvest Moon and Honey Moon, to mention a few. However, the latest full moon was probably named because it coincided with the beaver hunting season in America centuries ago. But whatever it is called, its beauty was remarkable.
Thank goodness its radiance was veiled by a silvery winter haze, otherwise, I might have been up even earlier, but what an exquisite welcome to the festive season. My early start was worth every second.
Until next time.