I love the moon. Blue Moon. Blood red moon. Rose moon. Pink moon. Honey moon. I don’t race outside at night to see any of these, but the urge to is strong, if I thought I would see even just one, tinted with colour, like the leaves that do fall.
Somehow, the idea of the black moon, the second new moon in a month, it felt to me like the best way to usher out September and welcome in October. After all, doesn’t a black moon sound fitting for a month that ends in Halloween?
Autumn was last week, officially. I have been in heaven ever since, other than this lousy cold that symbolizes the colder months on their way, or the chilly, dreary rain we’ve been having here for what feels like days and days.
Apples at my fingertips and that’s all I eat this time of year. They are mega sized and so crisp and fresh and tasty.
I waited in the rainy weather the other day, to welcome home from school my nephew, whom I still can’t believe is going to school at all.
I heard the bus roar over the hill and I heard the screech of the breaks. His mom walked him off and he was pleased to see my dog running joyously up to him to welcome him home. I buried my face and eyes in my sleeve.
I felt the same way I did that time last year when I went along to meet my niece after kindergarten at her school for the first time. She came running out the doors and through the crowd of little children and their parents and the teachers and she was so happy to see my dog, her grandparents, and me too. We were so glad to see her.
Autumn means the start of school and my mind is already packed with a thousand memories of my own schooldays. I feel relieved every September. Yet, I feel like I left something unfinished. Like I should have to be that schoolgirl again. Like all the struggles weren’t quite enough. Like I’m going to wake from this dream and find myself back in the fourth grade once more, just waiting to find out if everything that has happened since I was ten will replay itself. I have had this thought for years and it comes on just a little bit stronger this time of year.
There is so much I love about autumn. I love colours I can no longer detect. Come to think of it, I never really could, but perhaps a faint detection of colours on the trees moments before their leaves fell was there at one time.
I open my door, step outside, and into a world where the temperature is perfect, just before the nip hits the air. I revel in the humidity far in the distance. I let the cool breeze brush my cheeks and I wave my hands to soak it all in. I digest several deep breaths of this autumn air into my lungs in delight.
As day turns to night, as I take one last bite of that apple for this day and already eagerly anticipate how tomorrow’s apples will taste, I look up at the moon I can see and the dark black sky all around it.
Any thoughts of ghoulish Halloween fun, somehow becoming more and more welcome, and I think of a story I could write, using the black moon as its own character.
Speaking of ghoulish thoughts, I try to remember all these things I love about fall, to mask my anxieties about this particular one, somewhat ruined thanks to my fears of a certain possible new leader of the country to the south of me here. I will not let anything ruin this for me, any anxiety of politics I have no control over mess with my peaceful autumn feeling.
I will think of the black moon, any moon, apples and red, orange, yellow fallen leaves and the sound of crunching when I walk along a leaf strewn sidewalk. That sound. Those recollected colours of this season. The flavour only autumn apples holds.
Each September leads to my October, which leads on to November and the end of another wondrous year. School years come and go. The sounds and scents and sweetness of fall are all there for me, for the taking. And that dark side of the moon.
Another lovely take on autumn’s arrival is by the host of Finish The Sentence Friday herself:
And here are a few links I found that explain more about the black moon: