It took me a long time to get used to the idea that sometimes the moon wasn’t going to put in an appearance. As a child I was so used to the moon that I viewed the couple of dark days as a personal affront and used to get quite annoyed about it. In my mind there were certain attributes to each of the moon phases:
A new moon – magical like a scimitar in the sky, just waiting to strike.
A half moon (waxing or waning, I was none too fussy) – it reminded me of a slice of frosted lemon peel. It made me feel hungry sometimes, too
The full moon – this always made me feel happy because it looked as though it was smiling down at me. (And I, of course, would smile back).
But the dark of the moon? An absence of moon? How was I supposed to get my head around that?
And yet, the moon is always there. And no, it doesn’t really change shape, it’s just sunlight bouncing off it and the sunlight changes shape. And somehow, once I realised that the moon was always there then the dark of the moon didn’t seem so scary any more.
But as I’ve grown older the moon still retains her ability to amaze me. A year or so again I saw a huge (and I mean HUGE) full moon, low in the sky, coloured a weird shade of peach. A couple of other people saw it too, so I don’t think I was hallucinating! There’s something about a moon that just captivates you when you’re least expecting it.
I love greeting the moon, too. My family are used to me ‘just popping outside’ on freezing cold winter nights and are pretty tolerant about it. Even when I return indoors, teeth chattering, nobody bats an eyelid. They know I’ve been honouring the moon. And the moon knows this, too.
Seeking the Green by Tylluan Penry, published soon by Capall Bann. For more info - watch this space!
2007-07-14 @ 08:54