At the end of a long day, I lay in bed, reading, snuggled up in flannel sheets and multiple layers of blankets. Sheer, unadulterated bliss.

Then, uninvited, a thought niggled its way into my mind.

You forgot about the moon.

Oh, drat! I’d meant to try to capture a few moon photos. When I had come home late in the afternoon, I’d noticed the birch tree was rimed with a thin layer of ice. It sparkled in the house lights and I’d thought it might be really spectacular lit by the full moon. I could just imagine the photo–glowing orb, glistening branches.

Now it was hours later, and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now. Now, when I was drowsy. And warm and cozy. And the temperatures were in the teens outside. If I was lucky.

I kept reading.

You’re gonna miss it! 

I turned the page.

The moon won’t be full for another month, and how often are the branches coated with ice?

I read on.

It could be amazing! The conditions are ideal! 

I read another half page…

You know you won’t regret it if you get up. But you won’t get the shot if…

Ugh! Fine! I put the book down. I might as well just get up. 

I slid out of bed, careful to leave the sheets and blankets as intact as possible, hoping they’d hold my warmth and welcome me back after my arctic dip outside.

Downstairs, I fiddled with my camera and set up the tripod. After throwing on a coat, boots, and hat, I stepped outside. The moonlight was brilliant on the snow, and cast deep shadows around the trees. I walked out to the driveway and set up, already happy that I’d made the effort.

Unfortunately, I quickly realized that, although it was beautiful out, I was not going to get the shot I’d envisioned. I couldn’t figure out how to deal with the light issues and simultaneously capture the close branches and the distant moon. I took a few photos anyway. Click. Click.

Crack!

My heart jumped. Huh? 

Crack!

I glanced behind me.

Ooookay. It’s dark. It’s cold. And I am NOT the only thing out here.

Crack!

Crunch!

I tensed. Something was definitely moving around near the barn. Something that sounded big!

Possum? Raccoon? No, not big enough… A deer?  A herd of deer?

C-R-A-C-K!

A herd of angry deer? A homicidal maniac?  

Grabbing the tripod and camera, I quickly abandoned the moon. I hustled back to the house, glancing nervously over my shoulder as I went.

Once inside, I shut the door behind me with relief and vigorously turned the lock. I put everything away and climbed back upstairs to our bedroom, eager to return to bed.

“What were you doing?” Kurt asked, looking up from his book as I entered the room.

“I went outside to take some pictures.”

“Oh, the moon,” he said, nodding, knowing me well.

“Yeah,” I said, “but it wasn’t great. I couldn’t figure out how to do what I wanted.”

I paused dramatically. “And something else was out there, too! I heard crunching branches by the barn!”

“Was it the deer?” he asked.

“I don’t know!” I exclaimed, “It was something big, and I wasn’t sticking around to find out!”

He shot a grin my way. “So, you scampered back inside, huh?”

“Yup,” I said. “I scampered right back inside!”

He does know me well.

Smiling, I slipped back under the covers.

I had braved the cold, attempted the photo, escaped the clutches of a raging homicidal maniac and was now back where I belonged.

I picked up my book.

Sheer, unadulterated bliss.