THE MAGIC BEHIND THE PICTURE

SEPTEMBER 13, 2024 – Now I get to write about “back to nature,” which, if you read yesterday’s post, had competed unsuccessfully with “politics.”

Late yesterday evening while out on the Red Cabin porch, I put my book down and peered into the darkness outside. Except . . . through the darkness shone . . . the moonlight off the lake. Silhouetted by the shimmering light, the trees along the shoreline stood captivated by the view.  Through their branches singing softly in the light but steady breeze, I caught glimpses of the waxing moon. It beckoned me from the comfort of my chair on the porch to a front row seat out on the dock. As I approached the opening in the berm that runs along our shore, I stopped. There before me was what I thought was a perfect “scene” and a fleeting one too, in keeping with the ephemeral nature of . . . nature. I pulled out my iPhone and framed up a picture to see what I might capture. Just then I noticed the moonlight bouncing off one of the overturned kayaks. What a universe we live in, I thought, wherein light generated by the sun—the result of nuclear fusion—reflects off the moon, then off water on the earth and the surface of a kayak parked on shore.

Of course, earth—let alone the life it supports—would be nowhere without the sun, but because the sun is such a big deal for us; because of its Goldilocks features—size, burn-rate, distance from earth and so on, we take it entirely for granted—well, except when clouds move in or darkness descends after “the sun goes down” or when we witness a spectacular sunrise or sunset. But few among us wake up to the sun and exclaim, “Wow! Where would we be without you?!” or “Whew! Good to see you yet again, Ol’ Sol! Wouldn’t want you to think we take you for granted, no siree!” Despite its awesome power, sunshine is no mystery. It’s so ubiquitous and essential, it’s too familiar to possess romantic qualities, even in its dramatic diurnal entrances and exits.

The moon, on the other hand, is purely romantic and mysterious, despite its proximity and tangibility—its rocks, seas, mountains, valleys. You could almost say the moon is quite down to earth . . . in ways the sun can never be. Yet the moon’s waxing and waning; its fast trips across the sky, tugging at the sea as it does; her silvery face shining not by some internal source of illumination but by reflecting the light of a distant star. And though we know the face we see, from earth we’ll never view the moon’s other face, which always peers away from us. By casting her reflective light down on earth—on water, land, snow, sand and every object upon the planet—the moon gives us a romantic light.

As I stood admiring the moon in her breakcore dancing across the waves, I was transported more than half a century back in time to the summer when I turned 16. The moon was full, and stirring water and trees was a warm breeze just like the one that now swept across the lake. On that evening long ago, I announced to my parents that conditions were perfect for sailing in the moonlight. “Okay,” they said. “Be careful out there.”

With a flashlight and life jacket in hand I hiked down the hill to the dock. In the bright moonlight the flashlight was unnecessary on land, but since my good ship Glissando had no running lights, I figured it might be good to have a light on board. I rigged the little scow, separated it from its mooring and headed out to sea. I’ll never forget the adventure. The wind was straight out of the south, steady but not overpowering, allowing me to sail on a beam reach back and forth about 50 yards out parallel to our south-facing shoreline. The night was so bright I could see the individual trees huddled along the shore, and over my shoulder I watched the moon race across the sky as I flew over the water. I could’ve sailed till the wind tired or the sun set, but after an hour or so, I decided it was time for my parents to know that I’d “been careful out there.”

Last night I took a photograph of the moon-bathed scene and later posted it, calling it “Magic,” because that is what that fleeting moments were. I then ventured forth to the end of the dock and sat down to admire the unobstructed moon, now like a spinnaker filled with the wind. I savored the time, the place, the wind, the water . . . life here on earth and my fair fortune to experience it.

The hour was late and I was tired from the day’s efforts. Eventually, I left the dock for the cabin. Just beyond the break in the berm, I turned back around for one more mental snapshot of the scene. The breeze was from the southeast, so the waves were moving at an angle to our shore. In the bright lunar light, the water seemed to be rushing at an inordinate speed. I was soon mesmerized by the effect and stood there for several minutes. The full grandeur of the scene was beyond capture by any means except my memory, where it will reside forever.

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© 2024 by Eric Nilsson