Welcome to my blog. I used to try to write when I had time. That didn’t work out so well. Now I’m making the time. We’ll see how that goes. Thanks for coming along for the ride.



Photo from  NASA

Photo from NASA

I had never really paid much attention to the moon until I got a dog.

I know that sounds strange, but when you have a dog, you find yourself outside at times of day and night that you normally wouldn’t be otherwise. When a dog needs to go out, you need to take him or her. It’s that simple.

Those times when the moon is big and bright in the sky and you’re waiting for your dog to take care of business, it is natural to look up. In the dead of winter, the nights can be very dark, and even our strongest flashlights are not up to the task of lighting the way very well. But when the moon is full, especially if there is a nice coat of snow on the ground, a flashlight is almost unnecessary.

I can remember one night when the snow had turned to a sheet of ice in our backyard, making the hillside a slick slope. My children were young and asleep in their beds, and I had taken our dog, Buster, out for his final walk around the yard. The glittering icy snow was brilliant, making it easy to see everything around us, and I was amazed that the moon was able to cast such brightness on our patch of earth that other nights was terribly dark.

Finding the words to convey the feelings I have on these winter nights with the moon as my guide is not easy, but I did find a poem I like to read that says it better than I can.


By Hilda Morley

A cold night crosses

our path

The world appears

very large, very

round now extending

far as the moon does

It is from

the moon this cold travels

It is

the light of the moon that causes

this night reflecting distance in its own

light so coldly

(from one side of

the earth to the other)

It is the length of this coldness

It is the long distance

between two points which are

not in a line now

not a

straightness (however

straight) but a curve only,

silver that is a rock reflecting

not metal

but a rock accepting


(a scream in silence

where between the two

points what touches

is a curve around the world

(the dance unmoving).

- New York, 1969