Driving away from a dawn photo session by a local river, I looked over my left shoulder. The sun was just rising, and color streaked the sky. I pulled over to the berm to pause and once again admire the evolving view. It really was lovely.

Just one more picture,  I thought.

I grabbed my camera, jumped out of the car, and walked across the road. The power lines were in the way, so I moved a bit further away to avoid them. I crouched down, angled this way and that, and took a few photos.

Snap!

The sound barely registered as I focused on capturing the golden rays and the reflection on the river.

Crackle! Snap! SNAP!

Huh? What was that? 

SNAP! SCRATCH! SNAP! SNAP!

I turned to look, as simultaneously my neurons fired in nervous anticipation of the answer.

Oh, no!

Oh, yes!

I hadn’t!

I had!

I knew it before I even saw it. Dread trickled down my spine.

Intent on my photo op, I must have left the car in drive.

Sure enough, my car had already rolled down the road away from me. It had now begun a descent into the side growth, crushing bushes and twigs in its path. Even as I looked, my mouth agape, it continued on its path …

Snap, crackle!

SNAPSNAPSNAP!

I ran.

It rolled.

Finally, it stopped.

I kept running until I reached it.

I looked at the slant of the car. At the wet, wet ground below it from the 3 inches of rain we’d had the day before. At the tree that had stopped its full descent. At the morass of weedy swamp in front of the tree.

I assessed for about one second. Then, I jumped in, put it into reverse and praying, stepped slowly but firmly on the gas.

SCRAPE! SNAP! Crack! SC-R-A-P-E!

Moving….

m-o-v-i-n-g….

Scrape! Crunch! Crackle! Crack!

skidding, slipping….

regripping…

moving…

Slowly but surely my trusty little Subaru extricated itself from the pit of my stupidity.

In a moment I was back safely on the side of the road. The sun was still casting lovely rays. My heart was beating madly and my hands were gripping the steering wheel. This time I put the car firmly in park.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I whispered over and over and over again, interspersed with “Oh, my God!” “Oh, my God!” “Oh, my God!”

After I’d settled down a bit, I took a breath and slowly steered back onto the road. I drove home shaking the entire way, imagining all the what ifs from bad to worse: What if it had been stuck? What if it had been damaged? Or totaled? What if it had gone the other direction and into the river? What if it had hit another car? What if it had injured someone?

“Oh, my God! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

I felt unbelievably stupid and unbelievably lucky.

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.