This morning I took a brisk dog walk. It was chilly and the light was bright with a particular winter brilliance. The field across the road had a pale yellow tone and beyond the sky was deep gray. The contrast made me feel like I was seeing like a painter. It reminded me of a college moment when I wondered if feelings of inspiration were something that I would only feel as a child. Later, when I went to painting school in the south of France I met a tribe of people who felt that same jolt from examining how the sky meets a hill. There was a drive to paint based on what we saw, to translate vision through our hands. Seeing the moon in Virginia resurrects visions and inspirations of moon sightings in other parts of the world.
Wherever we are in the world, we see the same moon. It’s the same moon earliest humans would have seen, waxing and waning, rising and setting. Depending on where we were thousands of years ago, we would look to a full moon to mark time, to tell us when to plant corn, when to lay the rice to dry, and when to expect the ducks back. Now we look to the moon and marvel that men have traveled there in unlikely contraptions and actually set foot on its surface. It is our stepping-stone to the vast universe, and looking at a full moon can make us feel very small and very young. But it can also remind us to make the most of our time here on earth, to pop corn and throw rice and watch for ducks.
–Sophie Blackall