||[Feb. 1st, 2017|11:03 pm]
At the end of my last winter on the Mountain, right around March when I was going through a particularly rough patch, I saw two of the most beautiful moons I had ever seen in my time there. One of them, alas, is forgotten to me now, for it was almost two years ago. But the other one I still remember: It was unseasonably warm, and there were wavy, almost translucent clouds high in the sky, lit only by the moon, and it was breeze (I think!). Occlusions and opacities together with the moonlight combined to make parts of the spectacle seem thicker and more tenebrous that a customary night sky, and other parts seem brighter and more exalted. Overall, the whole scene had the feeling of something tropical. There was nothing else quite like it I ever experienced on the Mountain.|
I always meant to write about it. =[
Those were good times for celestial viewings. After I left, my viewings went way down. For one, I was sick. Later on, upon my return to the Pacific Northwest, I often did not have the time, and moreover I often lacked access to a suitable view--the pitfall of buildings and trees obscuring the true horizon and its upper proximity.
But this has changed, a bit, ever since moving into my new place. Here, I have a thin but gratifying westward view--quite better than anything since Texas! I can see the Islands, and the Salish Sea. Only a bit, but they're there. I have also watched about three to five sunsets since arriving, and two sunrise Ribbons of Dajar. Given the lay of things, the sunsets have all been through the trees, but, still, it's nice.
Just a few minutes ago I happened to be listening to "The Four Medallions" from Final Fantasy IX, and I just so happened to catch the fat crescent moon as it was dipping low. The atmosphere is thick with occlusions and opacities tonight, so the moon was quite richly reddened. As the upbeat mystic music played and the red moon passed over my favorite traffic signal in Bellingham (which I've never been to; it's only my favorite because it's far away and it peeks out of the trees all by itself and I think it's cute), I got the vibe of a lush festival, and I was reminded of that night on the Mountain when the sky was so strange, the air was warm and wet, and everything felt tropical. Such is the boon of being indoors; it's actually exceedingly cold and rather dry outside tonight.
My days of thoroughbred celestial viewings won't return anytime soon, but I feel quite pleased and at home to have so much access to the sky again.