By Jove, that moon is big!

I think I have always been a fan of the moon, whether it's cutting the sky with a skinny crescent or giving us a full-on blast of redirected sunlight when it's full. 

I know the track it takes across the sky above our house, and how it's higher or lower in the sky, depending on the season. I even admit to a few personal traditions I follow, though howling isn't one of them. 

When I'm travelling anyplace near the Equator, I love how its crescent shape seems to lie on its back, rather than 'standing' upright, like a giant "C" in the sky, the way it does here in northern climes. 

Last night's, called the Wolf Moon, was so bright, I actually tried to take photos of my hand in its shadow. The moon's light was so intense, I thought it might work. But no, my little camera couldn't quite manage it; I only got a bunch of darkish blurs which I chose to delete. 

As for the moon itself, even taking a photo of it through the skylight (probably not as clean in winter as it could be) looked pretty great to me. 

And if you look closely (maybe click on the photo to enlarge it a bit), you should actually see the rounded ball of our solar neighbours, Mars. 

There's a moon out tonight

It won't be full until tomorrow, but I'm thinking about it today. Because 55 years ago, many of us were watching tv as men took the first human steps (that we know of) on the moon. 

I remember it seeming almost magical. And of course, there were plenty who poo-pooed it as fake--maybe the first instance of what we now know as 'fake news'. 

It's hard for me to not still look at my friend the moon and think about all those years ago when two of the crew members from Apollo 11 stepped onto a rock out in space, the first off-Earth such a venture. And yes, that still seems quite magical to me.

The moon comes announcing Easter

Kind of an eerie photo from the other night, but one I thought captured some of the mystery of the full moon. 

This one, which technically arrived just after midnight (here in the Pacific Zone) on Monday, is apparently called the Worm Moon, something I would never have known without all the crazy information here on the internet. 

It's also the full moon that determines the date for Easter. This celebration, one that I mostly celebrate with coloured eggs and chocolate (mmmm...), takes place the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox. This formula was apparently one of the matters determined in the year 325 by the Council of Nicaea. From what I can tell, the folks who gathered at this meeting made decisions about nearly all the tenets that form the basis of Christian beliefs. 

The other event I managed to miss the other night when that full moon was official was a partial lunar eclipse, an occurrence that this time serves as a kind of warm-up act for next month's solar eclipse. But then, I'm not on the track where that will be visible so I'll have to be satisfied watching it (as it sometimes seems I spend so much of my life) online. Still, pretty miraculous. 

Eclipsed?

Earlier this morning I headed outside, hoping to get a glimpse of the partial eclipse that was supposed to be visible here. 

But instead of a view of the sun, I was greeted by clouds. 

Still, because I know how quickly our weather can change (yes, it can be an all-weathers-in-a-day kind of place), I poked around in the garden a bit, waiting in case the clouds might blow past.  

Luckily I knew where my special eclipse-viewing glasses were--the same pair from when I'd watched

the total eclipse in 2017. When I put them on, I thought they must have gone 'bad' from being so old, as I couldn't see anything through them. But I guess that's exactly how dark they're supposed to be, as a few minutes later when the sky cleared a bit, there it was--a partially occluded sun!

I didn't want to fry the light-sensing unit in my faithful little camera, so I refrained from trying to shoot with it. As a result, all I can do is tell you what I saw: in essence, a 'crescent sun' with the 'C' of its shape pointing downward, the black circle of the moon beneath. But here's a link to a news story about the event as it took place on the south end of Vancouver Island, not so far from here as the proverbial crow flies. It contains a few amazing images, which may help satisfy your craving for a glimpse of what I got to see today. 

Tide's out!

A beach is always interesting, and always in its own way. 

This is a beach south of Vancouver, those long tides always a sign of coming-soon Solstice. Two weeks today. 

First quarter of the June moon this morning. When it's full on the 14th, it's supposed to mean the first strawberries will be sweet. 

Sun shining again today, but still, that gusty breeze has something almost autumny about it. Towels didn't seem to mind though, flapping on the line, and oh, I so love the scent they bring into the house! 

With written records indicating celebratory observances from as long ago as the 13th century, a lot of people seem to think the world looks a little brighter as they mull the thought sumer is icumen in.

Entering a new phase

This vine-entwined portal opens onto a path that doesn't seem all that clear. But then, that's pretty much the way the world is feeling to me these days. 

The virus continues to rage, and so do the terrible-sounding plans for rebellious events in the US. Frightening, and hard to say which seems worse. 

Tonight's new moon is the first of this still mostly-new year, though its skinny fingernail of light will likely not be visible here. We're still experiencing more rain than usual, which makes for obscured skies. Still, that moon symbolizes another new beginning. 

And obscured, hard-to-know-what-comes-next days are how things feel, especially in light of the many changes occurring on the political scene.

Really, all I figure I can really ask from our elected officials is honesty. 

So, in that light, pale though the light of a new moon might be, I say to our premier, Mr. Horgan, please face up to the massive mistake that is Site C. Stop it now, so we can move towards actions to remediate the disaster the site has become -- quick, before it gets any worse. 

An anniversary for Selenophiles

...in other words, an anniversary for people who love the moon (though there's also a plant by the same name, selenophile). In seeking the word to match this meaning, I also came across 'lunaphile' which I must admit to liking, even though the only reference to it is somewhat buried in a comments section. Initially, I'd wanted to call this an anniversary for 'lunatics' until I found that pretty much the only meaning for that term is someone who's deranged and also that the word's become mostly unacceptable.

The reason for this post is, of course, the fact that today marks 50 years since human beings landed on the moon (at least as far as we know). Although if you're a follower of Tintin, you'll know that he and Captain Haddock were there long before Neil Armstrong touched down.

As this date has approached, there've been any number of memory pieces, but the one I loved most (and, unfortunately, can't remember where) was the man who told about his father going out and buying a colour tv towards marking such a memorable occasion. It's key to remember that not many people had a colour television in 1969. For one thing, their relative newness made them quite expensive. Having one probably seemed like an extravagance, maybe even showing off.

And then, as it turned out, when events of the moon landing came on, the images were only in black-and-white, as that's how they were broadcast. So much for a colourful celebration, at least that night.

I'm not sure exactly what I might do to celebrate, but the occasion does seem deserving of something special. If the weather holds, I will at least be watching fireworks tonight, as they're always part of the annual Amelia Earhart Festival, an event I'm lucky enough to be attending. I'm sure that walking on the moon would have earned Amelia's approval.

As for the photo at the top of this post, that's an item that hangs in my bathroom. After the light's been on it, it glows, casting a light not dissimilar from the moon's -- not really bright enough to read by, but enough to help me navigate my way back to bed.

And regarding my 'occasional' poem below, it's an effort based on a very fun edition of Magnetic Poetry -- moon-themed, no less. The set is full of official moon terms like 'gibbous' and 'crescent' and, of course, full. And even though I didn't use 'crescent' in my poem, 'waxing crescent' is apparently the phase the moon was in 50 years ago tonight -- nearly a quarter full, and growing.

Pull of the tides

For years I've had a tradition of trying to see the magical light cast on our front door by the Solstice dawn shining through a little stained glass window. This year, both mornings I tried (even the morning that wasn't officially Solstice), I missed it -- or it was too cloudy for the bright light to do its trick.

Even though I don't quite understand how the 'bulging ocean' phenomenon works, I am a longtime observer of the tides, especially the big ones that we see in summertime (or are those simply because we go down to the beach more when the weather's nice?).

The image above, a bit crooked though it is (apologies, I never make adjustments to the photos I post) gives you an idea of just how far out the tide goes when summer begins. It looks as though you might walk halfway to Vancouver Island. All of this is complicated by the pull of the moon, even though the last full moon was June 17th, days before Solstice.

I'm not the only one who likes knowing when the moon is full. This week I read that Neil Young, one of my favourite songwriter/musicians only makes recordings three days before the full moon. Apparently, he believes that's when his creativity is at its peak. Something more to watch for before the next time it's full.

Like I said, I don't really understand it all, but enjoy paying attention to the interaction between sea and sky. Always something to see, always something to wonder at.

Let there be...

...light, of course. Yes, bring on the light. 

I usually think of Winter Solstice as being the time to look for the return of the light, but this year, I'm thinking about it with the return of spring. 

This year's Vernal Equinox, tomorrow afternoon at 1:58 (PDT), will be only a few hours away from another of those super-moons we've been seeing -- this one apparently the last for 2019. 

What qualifies the full moon as 'super' is not how big it looks (face it, the moon is always the same size, though light amplification can change how it appears), but its brightness. So yes, more light will shine on us -- the light of spring and of the super-bright full moon. 

Already it seems extra bright. Both last night and the night before, the moonlight poked around the corner of the bedroom curtains and woke me. But no, waking because the moon came to say hello, I don't mind. 

On Saturday we attended the opening night of an art exhibit that's all about light, Luminescence, this year celebrating its fourth year. 

The range of exhibits was amazing, from a 'waterfall of light' that could serve as a wonderful colour-changing light fixture to a steam-punk octopus with an oversize light bulb for a head. There was a chandelier made of empty medicine bottles and a rainbow parade of animals in Lucite that seemed to be marching past, like the phases of evolution. 

Because it was the opening night, there was even a special performance by a man who twirled blazing batons and lit up the faces of everyone watching, enthralled, in the back yard of the gallery. 

But the showpiece that brought people in from the street was no doubt the metal-and-neon 'dragon' who, when his lever was pulled, 'breathed' fire. 

And with all that light -- especially with the sunlight that makes me feel that spring is here -- I even managed to wash most of the windows, getting rid of the wintry layer of grime. So now that beautiful light can make its way inside too. 

Backyard astronomy

Last night's lunar eclipse was pretty spectacular. The nice thing about an eclipse of the moon is that it takes place over a few hours and -- even better -- you can look at it without the risk of eye damage.

You can tell from the photo that I didn't have access to a tripod, so the slow exposure required meant that I moved, blurring the image. No amount of breath-holding or trying to 'freeze' seemed to make any difference. Still, I am pleased with the way the camera captured the bright red colour. No PhotoShop enhancement, I promise.

This hue is the obvious reason it's called a 'blood moon' and there are plenty of explanations available online about that term, as well the longer title applied to last night's manifestation (super blood wolf moon), including prophecies that might scare your pants off if you believe them.

I'm just glad we had clear skies last night and that it was warm enough to keep popping outside to look at it. Among quotes attributed to Snoopy is one where he refers to the moon as looking like a "dirty beach". That certainly wasn't the case last night.

Ruled by the moon

So many people, so many different places on Earth, observe a calendar based on the moon. The Asian calendar, with its welcome this weekend to the Year of the Dog, is one of those.

We celebrated in our own small way by cooking up some delicious (store-bought, frozen) siu mai (shumai) to go with the rest of our decidedly western supper (spaghetti -- though, wait a minute, weren't noodles invented in China?). If you look carefully, you'll see that there's a traditional red envelope in view, though ours didn't contain money, but a couple of lottery tickets.

It wasn't long ago that I learned a bit about a First Nations tradition called Hoobiyee, a celebration that marks the new year according to the moon. It was also linked to the return of the oolichan to the river, an important event marked by the Nisga'a.

I wasn't able to see the moon last time it was 'new' (February 15th), but I'm hoping its shape was more of an upturned crescent than a downturned one. My reason goes back to one of the concepts I learned about Hoobiyee: the first new moon after the new year indicates what kind of harvests there will be. An upturned one (cup-like) indicates bounty, while a downturned one, the opposite. Especially where I've just pruned our berry bushes, I am already looking for a good harvest later this summer.

And after our yummy sampling last night, I suspect, before the week is out, I am going to want to go to a restaurant for a celebratory feast of more dim sum.

Bluper moon?

By now most people probably know that the second full moon occurring in the same month gets called a blue moon.

This one was even more than that, as it was one of those occurrences when the moon is close enough to the earth to earn the title 'supermoon'.

And then, to make things even crazier, there was a lunar eclipse at 5:26 am, which led to last night's/this morning's moon to qualify as a super blue blood moon. Impressive titling, to be sure. Makes me think of British uppah-classes or worse, that hateful little rich boy in Monty. 

I was too lazy to get up at 5, so I didn't get to see the eclipse or the moon turning red. Still, I was pretty happy to get this shot of the just about perfectly full moon last night -- probably just before the clouds took over the sky.

I wondered

...about the name for tonight's moon, the one they're calling the 'strawberry moon'. I like the idea of it being the time for picking berries. Already, the back yard is offering enough raspberries for daily eating and even a few strawberries as treats.

But when I went outside and took a photo of the big solstice moon in the sky, the camera seemed to add its own strawberry garnish around the moon. I never understand these tricks of the light, though I always appreciate them, especially when they arrive on the day of solstice.

This coinciding of a full moon with solstice is apparently quite a rare event, one that won't occur again until 2062. In other words, it's one that most of us will likely never see again.

It officially turned into summer this afternoon, and even the garden seems to be in agreement.

Full moon party

Well, no party exactly. If you're interested, you'll need to get on a plane and go to Thailand. The Full Moon Party at Haad Rin has turned into something that sounds well beyond my interests, with over 10,000 attending.

The full moon this month was not only visible here (no clouds, hurrah), but the camera contributed some special effects to this, the so-called 'beaver moon'. It gets that name from a time when this full moon, the last before Solstice, indicated that the time had come to go hunting for the beavers whose pelts were so very valuable.

It has also been referred to as the 'mourning moon' to coincide with saying good-bye to things no longer needed. Maybe it's a good time for cleaning and tidying up, or perhaps for cleaning out the pantry for donations to the food bank.

Better yet, maybe it's a good time to dig deep into the wallet for donations to charities who might help those less fortunate. Yet another kind of full moon party.

Return of the light(s)

Just over twelve hours ago, the earth started to pass between the moon and the sun, and a magical lunar eclipse began. Magical because totality occurs on the same day as this year's winter solstice. Apparently, the convergence of events hasn't happened for a few hundred years.

Anyway, when this special eclipse started, I was disappointed, because the sky here was cloudy. Still, because I knew what was going on up there, I thought about it, imagining what people long ago must have thought about such an occurrence.

And then just before midnight, the sky opened up, revealing a dusky orange moon, with only the barest fingernail crescent of bright light on one side. Again, I thought of those people from long ago and suspected they would have been tossing more fuel on the fire -- logs at least, if not a sacrifice of some sort.

Just after twelve, when the moon was about to go into full occlusion, the clouds returned, shrouding what showed of the moon. When it's visible but not reflecting light from the sun, it's easy to see that it's really just a big rock. Still, a pretty magical one.

About twelve hours from now will be the official observance of this year’s winter solstice, so I'm in my element. Magic in every direction. And we'll be on our way to having the light come back...

As for the lights above, they're from our little hibiscus trees in holiday regalia, with the camera trying to move as fast as the spinning earth.

Happy Solstice celebrating!

Bright moon, summer dreams

Last night’s big moon was very close to full, and so bright it woke me at 3 a.m.

The photo above is one I took by moonlight. If I’d used a tripod, it would have been less blurry. Still, it gives you an idea of just how bright it was.

When I went back in I had dreams of my girlfriends as super-heroes, one of them running as fast as a car, another running up a wall like Angelina on special-effects.

But there were more summer dreams on the weekend. Pandora’s Collective sponsored its seventh annual Summer Dreams Festival.

Their events started Friday evening, with an honours ceremony recognizing many members of B.C.'s literary arts community. Among the presentations was a Lifetime Achievement Award for Susan Musgrave.

Although the recognition event went on too long, there was a kind of magic in the air. Even traffic out on Granville Street seemed to fit the occasion, contributing its own particular rhythms. And when Jamie Reid read poems, with Mike Peacock accompanying on keyboard, it seemed proof that summer dreams really do sometimes come true.

High in the sky -- a reminder

Last night's (okay, early this morning's) full moon was so bright it pulled me out of bed.

It was the proverbial harvest moon, celebrated in songs old and newer. If you'd like to know more background about the name, you might enjoy this story 's explanation of the name's origin.

Today was also the annual 'Run for the Cure' and it sounds as though Vancouver's run drew about 10,000 participants.

One of the reasons I'm always aware of the full moon is that I use it as a monthly reminder to check my breasts for changes or lumps.

If you're a woman who doesn't regularly check your breasts, here's a fairly long (7 minutes) but very clear video on how to go about doing this important self-check.

One thing I still don't understand about last night's light show is why the moon seemed so much higher in the sky (almost directly overhead) than usual. If anybody has an idea, please let me know.

Thoughts on...

...too many things. It's been days since I've done a posting. And so much has gone on in the interim.

The most time-consuming (in a good way) has been the Denman Island Readers' and Writers' Festival. Audiences, consisting of locals and off-islanders, were exceptional. They might have been the most attentive audiences I've ever experienced (or been part of). And the questions they posed to readers or panelists were worthy of professional interviewers. Having so many literate, informed people everywhere made for four very stimulating and enjoyable days.

And then there was the passing of Walter Cronkite. At first, I was dismayed at his not lasting quite long enough to make it to the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing. But then I thought about how close his death was to the launch of the mission that took those three astronauts out into space. By now, as we approach the anniversary of the actual walk, I can only think Walter's spirit must be waiting beside the Sea of Tranquility to greet the ghosts of old footsteps.

Thinking of astronauts, I must record how thrilling it was to see the shuttle on Saturday night. With very little ambient light here on Denman, the night sky is intense; the Milky Way sprawls, the dipper stands out sturdy enough to imagine it might indeed have been what spilled out all that milk. Yet while we were walking from a party, a bright light caught my eye and made me look up. A twinkling star, as bright as the famous one from Bethlehem might have been, hurtled across the sky while we stood and watched. It moved quickly and disappeared within less than a minute, I'm sure. Still, I felt so lucky to have seen it all. Silly as always, I waved to Julie and Bob.

But now it's time for holidays. Tonight we'll be sleeping in the Hoserdome, our tent. Will post again when I can and with luck, I'll have seen more night sky -- and will have made some wishes on shooting stars and maybe waved one last goodbye to Walter.