Pete and I went out to the shore last night to see if we could catch a glimpse of the Northern Lights. It’s always so tempting when the news comes through that they might be visible this far south, but they never are. We hung out for about an hour and took pictures of the stars, pointed out the constellations, and saw a few Taurid meteors. They were big ones, balls of bright fire, falling slowly toward the horizon.
Just as we had given up on the aurora, we walked over to the pier and hung our heads over the edge to watch a fish flitting around in the clear water. When we turned around, I shouted out, “Whoa! What is that?” “What’s what?” Pete said. “That…that moon-lookin’ thing.” He laughed and me and ran back to the car to grab his camera.
The half moon had just risen, large and golden and low over the water. It looked like an enormous wedge of lemon, bright yellow around the bottom edge and warmer in the middle. The reflection off the water was so bright and the color of it was so otherworldly, I couldn’t figure out what it was. I thought there was something on the beach catching the light from the street lamp. No, it was just our moon, giving us a treat for getting out to the beach late at night to enjoy the heavens.