Seven years ago, the full February moon rising over a ridge became an inspirational gift I will not forget. It was warm enough to sit on the deck that night. Not spring warm, but winter warm for our part of the country. We donned on winter jackets and cotton-wool gloves. A clear night sky, cozy blankets draped over our legs, and a hot beverage finished the required amenities for the wait.
And then it started. As the first hazy light glowed to silhouette the trees on the ridge our cameras came out from the inside warmth of our coats to be put into action. No words needed to be uttered. No pushing and shoving were endured. Silent, frosty breathing and the continual click, click, click, presided over the magic.
I did not know, on this night of taking copious amounts of pictures of the moon, that I had taken a photo that would not only grace the cover of one of my books, but it would also be instrumental in its title. Each time I look at the book’s cover I am reminded of that special place, with special people, and a special moment.