Sunday, February 12, 2006

Full Moon

While my friends on the east coast are playing with their snow shovels and ice scrapers, we had another unseasonably warm sunny day today. Since last year we were up to our yoohaws and higher in The Big Snow, I don't feel terribly guilty about it. Besides, the snowed-in folks I've heard from seem to be enjoying themselves up to this point. Of course it's the weekend and no one had to commute in it yet.

This evening I went out at dusk to take some architectural photos. I needed them as value references for an art project I had intended on working on this evening - before, that is, I got sucked into an evening of watching The Flying Tomato win the gold in the men's snowboarding competition - I never did make it into the studio. When I went outside to the car, I was surprised by the full moon, larger then life as it came up over the eastern plains. Impulsively I detoured away from buildings and instead drove down a nearby road that takes one quickly out into ranch land. Even in those few minutes the moon kept climbing, and the photo didn't capture the illusion of it as super-sized, but I did manage to stop the car right in front of these three critters, who didn't bother being spooked by one small woman with a digital camera. It's a little out of focus, but I liked it anyway. Click on it to see it larger.

Although you can see the lights of town in the background, here, just a half mile from the outskirts of my neighborhood, you couldn't hear or feel people. It was so quiet, I could hear the deer brushing against the stiff winter grasses. A few cows mooed in the pasture behind where I was standing. Two hawks flew slowly overhead. I could tell they were hawks, probably the abundant Redtails, not owls, because I could hear the flapping of their wings. Owls are completely silent when they fly. Somewhere to the southeast, I could hear the honking of Canadian Geese, but I couldn't find any V's in the sky, perhaps they were settling in for the night on a lower, wetter field I couldn't see in the half light.

I only stood there, snapping photos, for about five minutes, but it's amazing the difference five minutes of quiet makes to ones body and mind. I'd left the house feeling in a hurry, although to where, I don't know. I guess I wanted to get the pictures, snap, snap, get back, get to the studio, create, create, see how much could fit into the rest of the evening. It wasn't that I felt pressed for time, nor was I consciously aware that I wanted to fill it with as much activity as possible. I guess I was just "in" a hurry, like some chemical stew. Still, by the time I got back in the car, I was no longer "in" a hurry, instead I had slowed down. Stopped. I was unhurriedly "in" the moment. I hadn't felt particularly stressed or unhappy when I had started out, but I drove back into town feeling infinitely more relaxed and peaceful.


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