After midnight on December 6, 2009, I couldn’t help myself. I had the lights out in the kitchen and I stared out onto the dark moonlit lawn. I felt a need to stand outside, in the dark, in the cold, alone.

The deck held that silvery glow that lit up the yard, and ironically darkened the shadows even more.  Ice glittered, scattered around the deck, haphazardly, always with one of the floor boards frosted with snow, seemly standing guard over the shimmering silver.  The railings on the north side were frosted white, while the east balustrade bathed in light as the wood showed through.

Wrapping my robe tighter around my waist I slipped outside. I should go in and grab my coat, but I had the feeling if I did I would miss out.  The moon would disappear behind a cloud and I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this second.

 So I stayed.  Shivering I walked to the edge of the deck.  I looked upward, at the waning gibbous moon sitting in that hypnotic sky glowing white.  The sky around it was a dark, dark blue grey.  Farther east, the skyline glowed into a whitish, grayish, and peach, with streaks of grey cloud rising above the horizon everything was standing still. The sky was dotted with stars, only the brightest competed with the moon light.  

The constellation Cassiopeia, was sitting brightly in the west earlier tonight. Somewhere around seven PM,  I had been standing out in the driveway, staring at the sky, as I waited for my dog.  At that time, I couldn’t even see the moon, it rose late.  Now, I’m facing east and the stars and the moon are above me, bathing everything in silver light.

I heard a large animal moving around inside the trees. The wood of the Bog Willows snapped, as it moved none too gently though them. I told myself it was a deer, and continued to stand on the deck.  

The white snow glowed on the lower deck, in the grass, the burn pile, and painted patches skimmed in and out of the shadows throughout the yard. Slipping under the trees and crossing the fence line into the plowed fields.

The trees were black marks in the shadows. Beyond them I could see the glow of farm houses, crossing acres of farm fields.  The closest farm to the northeast had a blinking red light, a warning beacon for the farmer, for when he flew his Cessna in the dark. The further away the farms were, the less bright the lights.  Most only had on their outside night lights to keep away the wild animals.

The faint smell of manure and hay, wafted around the cold, still air. Night air has a different scent, at least for me, so completely different than the daylight hours. The night holds excitement, adventure! A need to explore! Possibilities move in-between the shadows. My wander lust kicks in…

I shivered. I didn’t want to step back in the house; this was too beautiful to turn away from. I told myself, just a few more minutes.  I looked back up into the sky, I got lost, as the ground disappeared and the stars pulled me upward…

As I walked out the garage door, and looked to my right. I could see the Waxing Gibbous moon, nearly full, glowing white in the still, blue sky. It was dusk and the sun had slipped to the horizon and was quickly disappearing. Last night the sky was streaked with fury red. Tonight it was a pale defused orange color.  

Uriah and I walked towards the front pond, instead of on the back path. The path was still under an inch of water, and slippery. With the sun going down, I was afraid I would fall into the pitch black mud. Not my idea of a fun night.

 Staring into the blue sky, I found it hard to differentiate between the summer sky at dusk and this sky. There was only one cloud, possibly Cirrus, splattered over head looking very much like a flattened out tornado. Its bottom point aimed at the setting sun, while the large cone top swirled above my head.

Uriah came over and leaned against my leg. He was still nervous from the gun fire all afternoon. I have a neighbor who loves to target shot. For hours… 

“Its okay,” I whispered, as I rubbed his face. “He isn’t shooting anymore.”

At that moment, shots rang out; to be precise, six times the gun, sounded like a 22. Uriah stood up, then sat down and sighed heavily.  

“Come on, boy.” I patted my leg as I walked away from Uriah.  “At least he’s not shooting the big stuff.”

 I really have to learn how to be quiet. Two shots rang out, with an intense deep, BOOM! BOOM! Those shots vibrated through the ground.

I called Uriah to walk around the pond, and gave him a Milkbone dog biscuit, which made him happy. While the there was still light he needed his exercise. I was relieved, when he decided to trotted on ahead.

 A waft of warm barbeque air disturbed the cold, damp wood smell, but only in small pockets. Odd!  I took four steps and I walked into a cold, damp woody smell. Then, I moved forward two more steps, into warm air smelling like hot dogs and summer. It had to do with the lack of a breeze. The air was extremely still.

 All, this was making me hungry.

An angry Cardinal clicked high in the trees; another one closer towards the house answered the first. I wondered if they were upset with me, or whoever had a fire going? More than likely it was the shooting that went on all afternoon.

I turned as I reached the driveway. Now I was facing towards the house. The moon hung in the sky above the roof like the star of Bethlehem.

 The shooting stopped. The birds were still talking in the trees, and the light was fading fast.

My pace picked up as I followed Uriah to the house. I have a piece of pumpkin pie left. I just hope my husband can see my name is written on it…