Friday, July 15, 10 p.m. I sit on the porch during the first balmy night in ... oh, it seems forever. Full moon rising. She seizes the night sky in her slow arc, silhouetting a giant pine against bright moonlight. A drift of clouds brazenly sails across her moon face and hurries away - defeated. She glows and grows to her apex. She rules the night, and I, nearly infected with moon crazy, escape inside to bed.
Saturday, July 16, 6 a.m. The dogs and I walk beneath a pale, lemon moon, under seizure by pink dawn clouds. She is still queenly, but wan, and we are safe to walk out beneath her benign descent.
