In Honor of the Lunar Eclipse

To walk outside and discover moonlight fills the sky always fills me with serendipity, as if God says, "I have something for you!" And I, as though I have never seen the moon before, look up and smile in rapt wonder.




When I was a little girl, one October evening, squeezed between my mom and my grandma in the front seat of a car, I watched a gargantuan golden orb rise over the skyline. I don't think the moon could have possible have been as large as I remember it.

Flying into New Orleans above a cloud cover, I saw a full moon reflected on the clouds, creating a light show that rivaled the twinkling city lights of the Big Easy as we descended.

Driving to Louisville one evening, I watched the moon and the clouds play a celestial game of musical chairs, creating the most awesome study of light and shadow. I video taped some footage. (That, unfortunately, was accidentally erased.) From KC to Louisville is about a 7.5 hour drive -- sometimes boring -- but that night the time zoomed past.

One winter evening, a full moon shone upon the frozen water of Blue Springs Lake, casting everything in silver. A man-made lake, the east portion of it has dead trees rising above the water, which cast eerie shadows upon the silvery frost.

Nestled just so along the tree line, a new moon was barely visible in the darkening dusk, but at its bottom was the slenderest sliver of orange.

Time Flies

I have not posted here for almost a month. I was so full of ideas back in January -- felt like I had something to say everyday -- sometimes more than one thing to say.

Then life happened: substituting high school English/Spanish (¡Olé!) for two weeks, finishing a newsletter, dealing with a crashed hard drive. (Both mine, and my computer's!) I am so out of condition to put in an eight-hour day, to be on my feet ninety percent of that time, to keep up with the flurry of activity that surrounds teenagers.

I taught an American Romantic unit, covering some of my favorites: Thoreau, Longfellow, and Whitman. Spanish classes watched cultural videos, preparing for a language arts fair project. Fortunately, the Spanish teacher next door had a student teacher who helped the students check their workbook assignments. All went well, and I enjoyed the students.

Still, Thursday morning, I heard those long-familiar, poetic words: "Snow Day!" I have never appreciated a day off so much!

A month later, the newspaper has gone to the printer, and the hard drives in question have been restored. Here's hoping the blogging ideas begin rolling in.