Posts Tagged ‘moon


comments on thanksgiving by a few of the neighborhood trees

“although i dress like this for thanksgiving every year, each year is a little different from the one before.”

“and of course, there are the iconoclasts among us, who insist on doing it their way — what’ s a liquid amber to do?”

“the good thing though, on this quiet day, is that there’s less smog which makes the sun sparkle in the ocean air.”

“i’m a ‘ginger’.”

the moon had nothing to say, yet in its silence it led the palms in a prayer (do atheists pray?)

“we are the lollipop league,” giggled the stand of eucalyptus (“the wizard of oz” being one of their favorite movies.)

“it took me ABSOLUTELY forever to get these leaves arrayed just so. ”

“i don’t believe that fancy-nancy leaf-turning act for a minute,” groused the magnolia, regardless of the prevailing evidence to the contrary.

“i don’t care what you believe,” said the resplendent liquidambar styraciflua, “my happiness does not depend upon your approval.” and with a flounce of her red leaves in the autumn wind she stood magnificent on thanksgiving day.


the effects of moonlight on sunrise (and your day)

do you commune with nature?

“hey, moon, wassup?”  or “what about those yankees?”

or perhaps you have a more inquisitive nature: “so, moon, do you find competition from the sun irritating?  you’ve been waxing for several nights and suddenly the sun’s all like up in your face, before you’ve even taken your final bow, like some bad actor talking over your laugh.”

alright.  i know. you’re more of the silent type and you stand there and let nature reveal itself to you, more of a listener (always a good trait to have, even when you’re dealing with humans), letting it have its way with you.

here’s what happened to me:  “my god, you should see the moon in the sky with the sunrise over the ocean,” i gushed, the dogs jostling each other on their way to the kitchen for their breakfast, “i wish i’d had my camera, it was magnificent.”  “i’m feeding them, why don’t you grab the camera and go take some photos?” he offered.  (this would have been a cartoon moment; i would have just been a blur of color as i did exactly that, grabbed the camera, dashed out the door and seconds later found myself standing at the top of the driveway, communing, as i do, with nature.)

and as it often is, it was perfect.


the effects of moonlight on a good night’s sleep

it must have slipped into my bloodstream.

as long as it was there, it decided to throw a party.  white blood cells and red blood cells threw caution to the ____.  (they put on their party hats and tooted their little — microscopic — party horns, the thwack of the paper tube unrolling and snapping back into place made my left leg jump and dance, st. vitus come for a visit.)

offended by the noise, tossing and turning, just about to fall asleep and then jarred back to wakefulness, i had no recourse but to get up and pee (like i wouldn’t have anyway–btw, did i tell you the santa ana winds are blowing and its 85 degrees at the coast at midnight and all of our fans are humming and thrumming and twisting back and forth in a vain attempt at keeping the house at 84 degrees–the dogs wheezing and wakeful and the moon as big as a quarter held between your fingers at arm’s length.  i didn’t?  shame on me.)

what could i do but turn on the camera and snap a few photos (like a dry twig between my fingers), but not of the moon, but of the effect of the moon on a good night’s sleep.


the wind, the moon, the palm

last night i tried to capture the moon, but it was having none of my nonsense.  it played hide & go seek with the queen palm that shades the front of our house (with the assistance of a cool ocean wind).

as a ploy to evade capture, the moon, when it sighed, exhaled a white light that camouflaged it from my sight.  the palm, with the assistance of the wind, continued to paint the sky with its fronds (a brush, a fan, an eraser).

but the moon soon tired of this game (and my insignificance to its existence) and held still just long enough for me to reach out and touch it.   the palm accepted the light of the moon without complaint.   the wind held its breath.


so soon (the moon)

everyone, but everyone, was talking about the moon yesterday.  there were reports in the newspaper (print & online,) blogs & twitter were all agog at the perigee of the spring equinox.

here it is, the moon, as close to earth as it’s been in 19 years, coyly disguising itself behind a pouf skirt (YSL, sans doute) & accompanied by the finest in escorts (at least those who weren’t already committed for the evening,) their tuxes just back from the dry cleaners in the event such a need would arise.  it did.  it arose in the east, just as it has, well, it doesn’t like to talk about its age, but one can surmise, that it is a moon of a certain age, mayn’t one?

& as if i weren’t already enraptured by its little game of hide & seek & “where or when will it next appear from behind its cover?”, & just when I thought I would not see it again that evening of its closely whispered brush up against the side of earth’s back, a little murmur in earth’s ear, it allows me for just the briefest moment to see it in this stunning doeskin (i swear it is not re-touched or manipulated.)  magic.  & just like that i turned my back on the moon, the dogs & i toddling down the driveway, its shimmering light dappling the way ahead.


words, pictures, actions (the weather report)

the moon has been hovering in the early morning sky the past few days, a reminder of night even as the sun wipes the away the darkness with its rosy rays of reality.

the clouds have been pushing against the sunlight, absorbing & refracting, an atmospheric scrim of dewdrops & missed opportunities.

the sea is barely indistinguishable from the sky, only the pink band of dust & airborne debris from the high deserts to delineate the one from the other (grounded by green.)

an empty bench beckons you for a moment, but the day is young & reflection seems an impertinence at this hour.

even obvious symbols of freedom & hegemony seem somewhat irrelevant when nature is present.  its relentlessness in spite of our interference seems a wonder, does it not?

& the moon still, in full daylight while the palms patiently bow in the morning wind, turns its attention to you.



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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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