"By the light of the silvery moon..."
At 6:21 a.m. I head out the back door and turn down the lane towards the barn. Boo the barn cat greets me. (He comes up to the house early so that I can carry him back to the barn to feed him breakfast: you have to love the way a cat thinks.) The moon is nearly full and casts a silver shimmer over everything. It is so quiet that all I can hear over the crunch of my boots are the valley winds aloft. The three of us head to the barn: me, Boo, and our Matisse-like moon shadow.
By 6:48 a.m. the horses and cat have been fed, and as the horses dig into breakfast hay I walk back up the lane. I stop and turn to look at the moon, which already has lost its silver glow and reflects the warm tones of the sun. The eastern horizon is already lightened, and with so much cross-illumination, a shadow doesn't stand a chance at survival. I am joined again by Boo, who bums another ride, and this time just the two of us traverse the lane.
At the top of the rise, I stop to look at the yellow moon peeking through bare branches. I nuzzle Boo's head which smells deliciously of the hay he slept in. Already dogs are barking in the distance and the sound of a few far-off car engines ruin the rural stillness. Boo belches and brings me back to earth, and in a another minute he wriggles out of my arms. Apparently in a hurry to begin his day, he trots off down the lane. And I walk back to the house alone.
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