Holding the moon

Nature never ceases to amaze me with its presentation of elements.

The other morning I was standing on the back deck watching the approach of the day and it stuck me how unique and how sometime Nature does some serendipodous and amazing things. 

It was the dawn of a new day and being that it is the early part of the year when the moon makes its prescence known far longer than other times, I was watching it dipping down towards Arbutus Ridge.  At that very moment I realized that the moon seemed to become suspended between the branches of the fir tree in the neighbours yard as if it were preparing to use the limbs of the tree as a springboard before plunging out of the sky. 

The colours of the dawn brought back childhood memories of summer prairie asphalt, baking an shimmering in the heat and sitting on a curb waiting for the Dickie Dee boy with his peddle cart.  Anticipation of the sweet ice popsicle that was pastel white, pink and blue. Try as I might, I do not remember the name of it – but it is strong enough of a memory that just that hint of colour in the sky seems to resurrect those ghosts.

And as I stood watching the glow of the moon disappearing I knew, by far this was a much better start to the day than a rush-rush normal routine that never gives me the chance to see the beauty around me

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