The moon was in the news for sure — nearly full, waxing gibbous at 97+ percent, in “Blood Moon” color phase, and expected to rise at 5:22 pm with a full lunar eclipse later in the wee hours. Commuting homeward from work I glanced outside and on the horizon caught sight of the moon’s rosy edgemost edge. Yanking the overhead bell cord for the next stop, I scrambled for the exit and hopped off the bus.

It was a foot race then with the usual bag & baggage, about a mile to the park on the water, hoping to get there in time for a nice view. The phone camera isn’t set for grand events in the firmament, and in my pictures the brightest moon appears to be a paper dot cut from a hole punch if it shows up at all. But the prospect was worth a try.

What an enticing idea, to follow this nature trail deep into the birch woods and downhill to the waterfront! But with regrets I passed up the solitary walk through this fairytale prettiness, and stayed in the populated parking lot. Other nature fans had gathered there, parents with baby strollers and carriages. Now if I had children, or so it seems to me, I would point out the moon and explain why this is a special night, and would invite them to watch for the first star constellations and listen to the flying killdeer and geese and other nature sounds. But these kidlets left to their own devices showed their nature appreciation in their own way — shrieking in high spirits, chasing one another, and stampeding round and round these garden paths:

The mile walk back to the bus stop is dark with abrupt and unexpected changes of pavement and footing, so it was high time to leave and pick a cautious path to the main road. Here was the last glimpse of splendor over that same living arch of vines:

There was nothing to wish for then but a companion to share the walk with me. A pretty evening, all the same.