You might still catch it if you look up. The spoon shaped moon, now and then dipped in foamy cloudy soup. In the last few months I’ve had quite a few brilliantly coloured dreams or of such astounding black and white that I sorely wished I had my camera with me. Or I’d have one but couldn’t successfully take a good picture. I’d always wake up wishing I’d stopped for a minute or more to just enjoy the scenic spectacle rather than woulda coulda shoulda had a camera.
Part-way through my evening walk tonight I half-sighted a shining ball of orange munificence, settling down for the night. I regretted not bringing my good camera and was hurrying along when I remembered my dreams. I tacked back to stare at the sun. The phone stayed in the pocket. Whoever said dreams can’t inspire pleasure in the natural world, I call bullshit. I know the sun is out there but the experience is right here and deep within, and what a magnificent moment of pleasure we shared. Not knowing if outblinking the sun for a minute or more was good for my eyes I eventually idled away, to marvel at multi-coloured reflections in glass windows, to look up the torsos of tall naked trees, stripped of all but their almost ghostly skin, and to enjoy the sights of families playing in the park. The park, still luscious green despite the recent hot and dry spell. On my final stretch, I wondered how it could be that I was casually ambling on a large rock, impervious to its racing around the solar system at over 100,000km an hour! Imagine that, and our escort rider, that moon!