.. through the baby fellowship forest.
Along the fence-line where the the black and white herd gathered to greet me and my load of hay.
I had finished the milking, cleaned the milking room, fed the chickens, fed the pigs, topped up the waters. John was inside making something divine with shrimps and coconut milk so it was my turn to feed out.
I looked across at Lady Astor as she paused to track me wondering where I was going to leave her hay this evening and then I saw the moon. The MOON. The Moon.
When I got back inside, changed and settled to catch up on my social media I saw that pictures of the super moon were everywhere, even some of my old students were posting shot of it from New Zealand.
But at that moment while the cows stood and waited for me to begin to throw the hay over the fence I felt like I had discovered this great blonde perfectly round lantern of light all by myself. Only luck that it was me out here with open eyes. I could have had my head down in the barn and missed it.
The setting, settling sun brushed the rising moon with a smear of gentlest pink. A soft watercolor pink, if this colour had a scent it would be the merest whiff of that very old fashioned sweet talcum powder our Grandma used to use. Blousy. A middle aged muted peachy pink.
Boo and I sat and watched the hesitant young moon hover just above the horizon, gathering power from the earth he holds on a leash. We watched from the tiny tractor in our tiny field, on our tiny farm , and were very gently put into our tiny place.
Then just as quickly the setting sun released gossamer strings she had on this gladiator moon and pulling hard on his earthed leash the moon rose, hauling upwards. The warmth of the setting sun sliding off its face, and up it rose further, clean and white and old. An entity of such power surely it cannot be only a cold moon. The moon is circling close to the earth now our leash firmly in its hold, causing the tides and waters to swell higher than usual – water is heavy, can this put stress on the fault lines causing a miniscule tilt which becomes a massive grind into teethlike earthquakes? Now there is an interesting thought.
The moon is massive in its power over the earth but I am small in mine. I trail in its wake. I started up the tractor, called the dogs, said good night to the cows and we trundled back to the barn, said goodnight to Poppy and her babies. Shut the chickens door after Boo had inspected every corner for intruders.
Said good night to Sheila who always waits for the last goodnight and always grunts back.
The dogs and I walked up to the verandah littered with farming paraphenalia, ignored it all. I kicked off my gumboots, the dogs curled into their pods. I took off my jacket, pulled up my socks and as the sun disappeared altogether, leaving the moon to rise unencumbered and huge, looming above me, I went inside for dinner.
It is morning now. Dark outside. Moon has set in the West. Sun is just pinking up the horizon in the East. We are betwixt and between. The changing of the guard. This is the moment to look at the darkness and make the plans we CAN achieve. Be honest. Be kind. Be true. Be small. Be gentle with our little planet. Make that daily decision to be the best we can be. To overcome our very human pettiness. For this moment between the moon and the sun we make our wishes. But never forget how powerful the moon and the sun are. How completely important. How fragile and awesome and precious this little earth sitting between them.
Have a lovely day.