Some words hold magic. Escapologist, King Tide, humblebee, are all words ripe for the picking but it was the moon that scored big last night. Bloody and red it appeared just after 11pm through the bare branches of the twisty tree at the end of our deck. It was very cold last night and reminded me of growing up in the deep South where cold nights are sent as yet another little gift to harden you up. It made me remember being with my father, both of us shivering outside looking up at the stars. We spent many a night he and I, staring at the cosmos wondering if we were seeing an astronaut circling the earth or a satellite – a strange mechanical thing that did something we couldn’t understand. Since then, science has taken most of the easily accessible mystery away. Five year olds know about satellites and that stars are dead before we see them. When I grew up stars were for wishes and there were eight planets before someone (let’s be real here, a scientist), decided Pluto didn’t make the grade. Most of the world was perfectly happy with Pluto playing with the big kids but science wasn’t. When the backlash got serious, they ‘discovered’ another one to replace it. You know what they called it? Planet Nine. All the wonderful words in this world and they come up with two that have already been used over and over again. I have nothing against scientists and neither, it appears does the moon. She just keeps on keeping on, ignoring the fact that men have walked all over her and stolen her rocks. Last night she put on an orchestrated display of brilliance. Nothing out of the ordinary for hours then slowly the colour seeped in and she became full-on fury red. It reminded me of candeling eggs and finding one that you’d pitch into the bin without a second thought. I love a full moon – of whatever colour. I feel more energized and creative and I am not alone. Scientists even try to explain it by saying the moon has an effect on the tides and since our brain/body consists mainly of water, it does the same to us. I have to say I don’t feel the water sloshing anywhere in particular but perhaps that’s as romantic as science can get. I do know that to see a full moon in the sky is to remember being a child who was supposedly asleep in the back seat of the car, but was instead watching the moon follow us home. Or being unable to sleep because the moon was shining through the curtains. Or spending the night at Anzac Cove on the Gallipoli Pennisula watching the full moon that had kept thousands of people company in the night, sink into the sea and the sun rise up to light the day. The natural world might be explored and explained but it will never lose it’s ability to confound us with it’s beauty and desire to set it’s own path, and for that alone we should all consider standing out in the cold and looking at the sky.