Today was a beautiful day, the kind of day when you leave the house in the morning and wonder if maybe it wasn’t a bad decision not bringing a hat, but by noon you’ve ditched your coat; by late afternoon, you want to ride around in a convertible. And, then, this evening, as the sun was setting and I was prepping dinner, a nearly full moon was rising in the east on a soft blanket of deep blue sky. By the time I went outside with my camera, the last rays of daylight had been extinguished, but the moon was shining brightly through the trees.
I set up the tripod and experimented with a few different settings, fumbling in the dark to figure out the remote I bought recently. The air had a burnt wood smell about it, a mixture of old leaves, a few puffs from someone’s furnace, several grills, and the fumes from motorcycles speeding down the parkway. The last of winter giving way to Spring scent was fitting for a day when I saw my first daffodil in bloom. I’ll have to sneak over to my neighbor’s garden tomorrow to take photos, unless mine bloom by then. The moon was lovely looking and I liked the way that it illuminated the still bare trees.
The Farmers’ Almanac tell me that among the several names for the March Moon are Full Worm Moon, Full Crow Moon, Full Crust Moon, Full Sap Moon, or the Lenten Moon. Whatever the name, it is the last moon of winter, and brings in, along with the tides, Spring.
My camera, however, cannot seem to capture any of these things. Based on the images, I am tempted to rename it The Full Eyeball Moon, as it reminds me of the odd, almost indiscernible, pictures of your retina the ophthalmologist shows you. My photographic experience thus far tells me that I do a much better job of capturing the moon when it is in the daylit heavens. No matter though: Spring is in the air and I light the sight, sound, smell, and feel of that.