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Last night out the bathroom window I looked up onto South Hill and saw
a glow just above the tree line. It was already dark, and at first I
thought it might be a forest fire breakout, which we get here occasionally.

About thirty seconds passed, and I realized that it was the full moon
rising over the hills. It rose very quickly. In fact it only took about
five minutes or so for the entire orb of the moon to emerge from behind
the hill. It was a beautiful moon, too — light gold.

I had never seen a moonrise before, strange as it may seem, even though
I am 51 years old.

At a phase in my life in which there seemed nothing new under the
sun — I discoved the moon.

I may never have been a world traveler, but I've seen some beautiful
things in my life. I've seen the northern arm of the Milky Way, in all
its glory, from atop Mt. Palomar in California. I've heard the cicadas
hum in the lush, green broadleaf forests of southern Indiana, the cicadas
seeming to echo humidity so thick you could almost feel yourself walking
through it. I've seen the beautiful, dark purple dawns of northern Texas.
I've seen sandstorms move in off the desert in Arizona like a vast,
yellow-ochre curtain. I've seen the gorgeous, cold, overcast skies of
the Haro Strait.

It can be a beautiful world at times, in spite of everything.

WHEN THE MOON COMES OVER THE MOUNTAIN

(sung by Kate Smith)

When the moon comes over the mountain
Every beam brings a dream, dear, of you
Once again we'll stroll 'neath the mountain
Through that rose-covered valley we knew

Each day is grey and dreary
But the night is bright and cheery
When the moon comes over the mountain
I'll be alone with my memories of you

(My thanks to my Mom on this one, who
remembered the song.)