Once in a Blue Moon

We walked down to the pier late this evening to watch the first of two full moons this month rise above the trees.

The most specific memory I have of a full moon was one late September or early October evening in the mid-1990s. Roger and I were just a couple of days into what would be a year-long adventure traveling around the country, down into Mexico and up through Canada to Alaska in our little red Jeep Wrangler.

We were heading, actually, to spend the month of October at the cottage here at Lake Geneva before it got too cold and the water had to be turned off. As we drove on a highway that cut though miles and miles of Illinois corn fields, we watched a huge harvest moon rise.

An auspicious beginning to an extraordinarily rare and magical year.