Considerations of the Moon

The other day after I awakened in the pre-dawn, I noticed that the Moon's sliver of pale blue was suspended low over the southeastern horizon. And, before the light of the rapidly appearing Sun blotted it out, I had the impression that that subtle crescent was sliding still farther to the east.

I wondered, because I could've sworn that I had just recently read in a book that discusses such matters, Carl Sagan's "Cosmos," or Bill Bryson's "A Short History of Nearly Everything," that the Moon, like the Sun, always "rises" in the east and "sets" in the west. I recalled how indeed the Moon often does first appear in that direction, most dramatically in the first weeks of December, when, because my garden is set in an almost exact east-west line, the Moon hangs low and directly over the far, eastern end of the garden and looks larger than usual. So I had accepted that bit of info, while wondering vaguely if the "always" was actually correct. "Always" is one of the most dangerous words in our language, you know.

I think now that I have engaged in another blatant misreading or a misunderstanding of something.

It looks as if I have to face the fact that, despite a lifelong interest in the Moon -- which every decent human being should have -- I have never had a good handle on just what the Moon thinks it is doing. I mean where I can expect it to be, from one night to the next or from one week to the next. Or even when I can expect to see it at all. But maybe most people are in the same boat. Otherwise there wouldn't be quite as much need for farmers' almanacs.

The Sun, by contrast, is very simple and straightforward. Early every morning without fail the continual twirl of the Earth renews our contact with the Sun in the general direction of the east and on the average of 12 hours later our western horizon increasingly gets in the way till we are left in a darkness that in my opinion lasts far too long. In the summer, thankfully, we see more of the sun than we do in the winter. And that's it.

With all its phases and its other shenanigans the Moon, so deceptively steady and innocent-looking, is a very different cup of tea, and I realize that I have paid so little of the attention that is due to it because I have just assumed that it pretty much shows up wherever it wants to in our night and sometimes in our day skies, too, and that it stays in sight for as long as it wants to, and, when it gets tired of that, it bids adieu whenever and wherever it pleases. But Ms Selene must follow some definite astronomical laws. I just don't know what they are, in detail.

I wonder if that would be nice to know, or whether I should just let the Moon continue in its delightful mystery dance of my ignorance?

One of these days I want to paint a pure moonlight picture. It is to be a woodland scene.

You would think that the Moon's stinginess with light would make that project easy, as I won't have to worry so much about detail. But most of the moon paintings that I have seen aren't convincing. Too much is visible, and the light is too warm. Moonlight isn't simply greatly reduced daylight, and in reality, with no other source of light and unless your eyesight is keener than mine, even in the brightest moonlight shapes are barely more than suggested, and what there is of color is on the cool side and is mainly only what your memory puts there.

Still such a project should be interesting. I plan to place a dragon making rapturous love to a woman, a la Leda and the Swan, among those trees. It will be up to your turn of mind as to whether you'll be able to see it.

Ha-ha! The Moon, like the Sun, is my friend!