One last moon crescent? Not today

When I went out at 5:45 yesterday morning, the moon looked like it had been up about half an hour. It was a very old moon, probably the final morning crescent before the first new moon crescent shows up in the west. The dark face of the moon was also visible because it was reflecting bright earthshine back to us. Light from the sun was reflecting off earth, back toward the moon, then reflecting there, and coming back to my eye, all in less than the time to take a swallow of coffee. I thought that was really cool.

This morning, I watched from the glider, wondering if one more crescent would appear. We are in the second day of what Southern Californians know as a Santa Ana, very hot days, very clear skies, and crystal-clear balmy mornings with an unbreathed east breeze, when the edges of everything look as sharp as a lithograph.

Dixie has taken to going out with me at these times. She is a year old and hasn't had much time outside since she has been at Alta Mira. So she is learning to explore. Dogs love the outdoors. Where she began by mainly staying with me on the glider, now she has her head-scratch, then is off to see what she can see.

The pale orange layer of first light lay behind the dark silhouette of the eastern ridgeline, and I watched for the crescent to appear. I imagined myself as myself ten thousand years ago, watching these events from this bare rocky hilltop with no more than eyewitness knowledge, and watching the orange layer, and then to see a white crescent rising into it, and feeling an urge for protection, from someone or something, against the threat of marauding white crescents in the sky. I do believe that is how gods were born.

Finally, the bright orange proscenium spread out, setting the stage for the point at which the sun would appear. If there was one last moon crescent out there, it was lost in the brightness. I watched the proscenium instead, and watched the ridge catch fire just before the first dot of the sun appeared, a white diamond that you can look at for a couple of seconds before the blinding light explodes.

I called Dixie in, and said to her, "Gone be hot again today," as we went inside.