Moonstruck

By LEON YOUNGBLOOD

If you did not get to see the “supermoon” rising this past week, you missed a blessing.  I was en route to the wilderness shack at Briar Circle much later than I like to drive, but the spectacular moonrise was compensation.  Neighbor Kevin called a couple times while I was on the road to make sure I was all right.  I was fine, and on the second call, I asked if had seen the special moon.  “I’ve never seen it so large!” I said.  “I think it’s the ‘supermoon’ we’ve been hearing about.”

BRIAR CIRCLE

Kevin said it was, and explained the event: “The supermoon happens when the moon gets as close to Earth as it can without hitting it.”

I liked this explanation.  It personified the things going on the night sky in layman’s terms, without fooling with apogees, perigees, pedigrees and other astronomical terms.  The supermoon seemed to have a mind of its own, or better, it displayed the mind of the Creator who put the planetary whirligig activity of the solar system into motion.

I got to the shack just after 10 o’clock.  My intention had been to immediately go to bed, but the moonlit landscape enticed me, so I took a short walk.  It was a little eerie, going from the illuminated trail into dark shadows under some of the trees.  Past bouts of torrential rainstorms had deepened the ruts in places, but I made it without stumbling. 

Getting back to the shack, I lit the old propane lantern.  This was not the usual routine, but the solar power was messed up.  The moonlight came in through the windows, and did an exceptional job lighting where it hit, but where it did not hit was pitch-black.  I managed, though, and eventually settled down to a restless night’s sleep.  It had been months since I had been to the wilderness shack, and I was having to adjust.  I would hear noises inside, and knew mice had taken advantage of my absence; I would hear noises outside, and would get up to investigate, hoping I’d find something I could bring inside to catch the mice. 

When the sun rose to a suitable height that morning, I left to visit the neighbors.  Neighbor Larry was out and working (he would eventually help with my solar panel problems), but he took a break to talk, and of course one of the first subjects was the supermoon.  Larry offered the opinion that the supermoon was making certain persons weird, but he was not dogmatic with his observation.  Larry has a page on Facebook where he prepares foods grown in his own garden with spices and herbs after his wife Lorna’s recipes. 

At present, Larry and Kevin have been gathering wild muscadine grapes to experiment with making jam and wine.  Muscadines have been around for generations, and I’ve only now discovered them.  They’re pretty tasty, but you only bite into them to get the juice out, and then discard the tough hull and seeds. There’s no telling how much there is to eat in the Ouachita woods if we only knew what it was.

Kevin took me on another ATM ride, but it was milder than the last one.  He showed me where friends Travis and Tyler live, and the rifle range, and we went by the old Conser home.  It’s sad, even depressing, to see how the house is rundown, and the grounds around it, including the cemetery, are over-grown and neglected.  There were evidences of vandalism and theft.  Apparently, the site is doomed.

We went back to Kevin’s cabin, and Julia, his wife, had prepared an excellent dinner.  At my request, Julia gave me her recipe for the Spanish rice.  I am greatly indebted to these friends, and they are loved and appreciated.  I can’t pay them back for all they’ve done for me, but I hope I can “pay it forward,” somehow.

So, these are a few details of the moonstruck weekend.  If we all have weekends that are as pleasant in the future, I won’t complain.   

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