Monday, June 08, 2009
Full moon ... in stages
Last night as we were eating dinner (grilled lamb chops, stir-fried Chinese beans, and small red potatoes, cut and sautéed in olive oil with garlic and rosemary), I'd get up and walk to the windows occasionally. I was waiting for the full moon over the Bay Bridge - a photo op that comes once every twenty-eight days. If that.
At 8:50P there was still no sign of the moon. How can that be? Where is the moon? We finished dinner and moved to our chairs where we sat, finishing our glasses of wine.
A little after nine the moon finally appeared, rising orange behind the bridge. Then yellow. Then white, as it rose in the sky.
All Rayleigh, his nibs said.
posted by Sal Towse at 9:47 AM|
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At 8:50P there was still no sign of the moon. How can that be? Where is the moon? We finished dinner and moved to our chairs where we sat, finishing our glasses of wine.
A little after nine the moon finally appeared, rising orange behind the bridge. Then yellow. Then white, as it rose in the sky.
All Rayleigh, his nibs said.
Labels: photographs, SFOBayBridge
posted by Sal Towse at 9:47 AM|
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: views from the Hill
Bertold Brecht:
Everything changes. You can make
A fresh start with your final breath.
But what has happened has happened. And the water
You once poured into the wine cannot be
Drained off again.
Everything changes. You can make
A fresh start with your final breath.
But what has happened has happened. And the water
You once poured into the wine cannot be
Drained off again.
