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.
My heart jumped. Huh?
I glanced behind me.
Ooookay. It’s dark. It’s cold. And I am NOT the only thing out here.
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?
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.