I’ve always considered myself a nature lover, at least in theory. But living in Manhattan, there’s very little nature nearby to love. Except for Central Park, there is only the sky; that elevated strip of brightness found between the buildings on either side of the street.
Wherever I might be in the city, I tend to look up for quick glimpses of nature’s realm. And of course, sometimes I see the moon, which except for the sun is the only heavenly body that Manhattanites can expect to see with any regularity. I enjoy seeing the moon over Manhattan, be it the faint moon in a bright blue afternoon sky, or the glaring heavenly headlight in the deep black of night. Over the years there have been a few occasions when I have found these sightings to be extraordinary.
Once years ago when our son was a little guy, he and I were walking on Columbus Avenue, past the vast bulk that is the rear of the American Museum of Natural History.
That particular early evening time and place offered us, what I consider a once in a lifetime view of the moon. At that magic instant the forces of nature had produced a vision of benign and calming beauty in the sky. There was a quality of light that is seldom seen. Our earthly world, the sky and the moon were all so softly illuminated, so perfectly balanced; their combination seemed an intimation of heavenly perfection. It seemed more a picture than reality. Even more thrilling was the position of the moon in the sky. It was just touching a green dinosaur weathervane atop one of the sunset-golden conical towers of the museum. I pointed it out to young Erik and said the scene was so beautiful, so extraordinary; we should try to remember it over the years. And we have.
footnote…
I’ve seen a lot of lovely moons but seldom had a camera. Here’s one time in Seattle that I did.
Wherever I might be in the city, I tend to look up for quick glimpses of nature’s realm. And of course, sometimes I see the moon, which except for the sun is the only heavenly body that Manhattanites can expect to see with any regularity. I enjoy seeing the moon over Manhattan, be it the faint moon in a bright blue afternoon sky, or the glaring heavenly headlight in the deep black of night. Over the years there have been a few occasions when I have found these sightings to be extraordinary.
Once years ago when our son was a little guy, he and I were walking on Columbus Avenue, past the vast bulk that is the rear of the American Museum of Natural History.
That particular early evening time and place offered us, what I consider a once in a lifetime view of the moon. At that magic instant the forces of nature had produced a vision of benign and calming beauty in the sky. There was a quality of light that is seldom seen. Our earthly world, the sky and the moon were all so softly illuminated, so perfectly balanced; their combination seemed an intimation of heavenly perfection. It seemed more a picture than reality. Even more thrilling was the position of the moon in the sky. It was just touching a green dinosaur weathervane atop one of the sunset-golden conical towers of the museum. I pointed it out to young Erik and said the scene was so beautiful, so extraordinary; we should try to remember it over the years. And we have.
footnote…
I’ve seen a lot of lovely moons but seldom had a camera. Here’s one time in Seattle that I did.
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