Only a Paper Moon

 

Since leaving Myrtle Beach, Patches' favorite time for a walk is any time after dark.  Last night I stepped outside with her sans camera and so missed the opportunity to get a picture of the biggest, yellowest moon I have seen in months.  Low on the horizon, barely above the mountain tops, this glorious, glowing orb gleamed so distinctly in the clean, desert air that it appeared to be painted on the sky.  So the picture of the moon remains in my memory instead of on this web page and what you see above is from our moonlit stroll of two nights ago.

Since I wasn't concentrating on trying to snap the perfect picture of the moon I was more aware of our surroundings.  At first I only heard the crunch of my feet on the crushed rock that covers most of the ground here at the campground, but gradually my ears opened to other sounds.  Next I noticed the sound of chirping tree frogs and barking dogs, then the crickets and finally the slap of a fish jumping out of the water of the small fishing pond on the grounds.  Beside the motor noise of the random car going in and out of the campground there was no human noise; everyone else was encapsulated in their tin cans on wheels while Patches and I shared the evening with the night creatures.  While Patches sniffed ground and bushes with head held low, I turned my face upwards and gazed at the stars, lucky enough to see a satellite arcing across the sky while searching for Orion, the only constellation I can recognize beyond the Big and Small Dippers.

It has become my favorite time too.