Besides being dated, my old blog template was no longer as functional as one might want. So I've traded up to another basic boilerplate template. While it may not be ascetically striking, exactly, it does work and feel like something fresh and new to me.
Also, as an exception to the pattern from the last week or two, I'm posting this entry while the sun is still shining, before even the shift to twilight has brought out the sickle moon that D. takes a proprietary interest in. Last night, while on his way to OSH or Home Depot or some such place (he can correct me when he reads this) he phoned home to say that there was a gift in the Western sky for me. I went outside and braved the coming cold, and there it was - that fine curve of light that he used to capture often enough in airbrushed night-scape paintings in the late eighties and early nineties that it was almost like a trademark.
I'm a fan of the quarter moon, the half-cookie shape on its way to waxing or waning - at the tipping point - and me not knowing, most of the time, which direction it's heading. The sickle moon seems almost gone. The quarter moon is a still point in the pendulum. A pause, a balance, even if its just an illusion and no more permanent than any other phase of the moon.
Maybe if I gardened as guided by the Farmer's Almanac, or studied astronomy, or had a 2014 calendar, I'd know whether tonight will be moonless or slightly brighter than last night. As it stands, I only know that night is when we start the fire in the wood-burning stove, and put the lame chicken in the rabbit hutch, and when I crane over the jigsaw puzzle in a gluttony of piece-placing, trying to forget the burden of my 9-5 job (which is really a 6-4, most days). Thank goodness like the okapi, the moon takes care of itself without my attention.
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