A tale of unintended consequences
As darkness settled over our house a pure full moon, hanging low in the sky, cast its calm and comforting light through our family room window. It seemed a good omen on our first night in a new home. No sound of howling wolves or other nocturnal creatures disturbed the quiet. Just a lovely silent moon shining it’s gentle light across the garden.
We’d lived in the house several weeks before it finally dawned on us that there couldn’t be a full moon every night. A moon that never waxed or waned or hid it’s face behind a cloud. We laughed when we realized that our moon was no celestial body but the globe shaped lamppost on the path beyond the garden fence. The ground slopes upward toward the path giving our moon the illusion of hanging in the sky.
Well that was many moons ago. (Ouch! Sorry about that!) Over the years we enjoyed visitors making the same mistake, effusively admiring the full moon and then wondering why we started laughing. We were sorry to disillusion them. I came to love our moon’s soothing companionship, it’s soft light peeking through the shadowy branches of the cherry tree as we sat reading or watching tv. I never felt the need to cover the windows with shades or drapes. Let the moonshine in!
Can you spot the “moon” in these views of our garden?
Alas, our lovely moon is no more. It fell victim to the curse of neighborhood improvement. This fall all the globe shaped lamps, now considered not quite posh enough, were replaced with more upscale carriage style lampposts. By day, I do admit, they look much nicer. But at night, instead of a soft moon glow, a piercing starlight blinds me. Starlight may be beautiful when the stars are far off in the heavens, but down to earth and just beyond my fence the effect is disconcerting. Sitting in my family room now I feel as though I’m about to endure a harsh interrogation. Time to measure for blackout curtains!
My lovely moon, I miss you so.
The new lamppost by night and by day –
N.B. My husband has a different take on the new lampposts. Apparently the capped design reduces light pollution, giving us a better view of the real stars above.
Thank you to Raymond Chandler for inspiring my title.
2 thoughts on “Farewell My Lovely Moon”
Love it! I wouldn’t bother with blackout curtains. The light will remind you of what you had before. Cherish the memory.
I bet you had fun devising ever subtler ways to disillusion your friends.
What happened to the old ones? Were they just smashed up, or reused in a more “appropriate ” setting? I’d be inclined to try to acquire one. Low probability of getting the same one, but worth a try, if you could find somewhere to put it. Maybe even continue to entertain your friends.