You saw me dancing alone....

This picture was complete moonlight taken past 9:00 at night. Very bright moon.

Its a blue moon. I noticed that there would be a second full moon in August a couple months ago and marked it on my calendar. I figured we could hit one of them and go out for an Owl Walk.

When Henry was tiny, before Nora was born, we went to Wachusett Meadow in Princeton for a mid-winter reading of Owl Moon and a moonlit owl walk. I loved it. Henry was barely talking. It was cold and we had to bundle him up nice and tight. After the woman was through reading, she passed around an owl wing and a claw, then we went out. We didn't go far. It really was cold. But as we were walking, Henry pulled on my pantleg to get my attention. He pointed to the shadows the moon was casting of us and told me how his was so small and mine was so big. He was three, he could barely talk and I had to really listen to make out what he was trying to say, but it was in reference to the story we had just heard.

          "Our feet crunched
            over the crisp snow
            and little gray footprints
            followed us.
            Pa made long shadows,
            but mine was short and round.
            I had to run after him
            every now and then
            to keep up,
            and my short, round shadow
            bumped after me."

I don't know what it was that hit me so deeply, but I will never forget it. The story is wonderfully written and speaks of a deep, quiet relationship of a son and father. To have him reference it and speak of our shadows within the context took me by surprise.

We went out tonight, to find owls. Henry and Nora and I. We had to wait until the moon was bright enough, which was past 9:00. We drove out to Rutland State Park. We took a flashlight and my camera. I parked the car in a little turn off by the river and we got out. The moon was so bright that I didn't need the flashlight, we never even turned it on. I have seen bears here before: In the morning before the sun comes up, half hidden in the fog. I would be lying if I didn't say that I had that in the back of my head. We walked for about a mile or so, next to the fields that border the river. Even though the moon was plenty bright enough to see everything by, Nora still clung to me. She held my hand the whole time, and in the shadowed parts of the road, where the trees blocked the moon, she pushed harder into my side. Henry forged ahead. There were plenty of crickets to be heard, but no owls. So, by a big rock at the end of a long stretch of pasture, I put my hand to my mouth and did the best owl call I could (I'm not an expert ;) ) and I'll be dammed if an owl didn't call back to me. Crazy. Henry was so excited. To be honest, I was too. I tried a few more times, and both Henry and Nora did as well, but that was the only time it called back. It was enough for me. We walked back to the car feeling like we had reached out and been heard.

db