Dear Lunatics,
Happy Strawberry Moon!
Last night, the nearly full moon lived up to its name, stunning the world with its sugary pink hue.
If you missed yesterday's moonrise, you'll have another chance tonight.
Look southward around 9:30pm to see the night sky raise a stemless glass of rosé.
While I’d hoped to write a proper lunar dispatch, I'm afraid I can't rise to the occasion this month.
My health has once again laid me low.
As if in sympathy, the Moon has also been laid low. Tonight's full Moon will be the lowest in the sky for almost twenty years.
Called a lunistice or a major lunar standstill, the full moon only slums it like this once in a generation.
And if that seems like a meaningless novelty, just think of those Neolithic architects who meticulously fashioned their monuments so that tonight’s full moon would fall with eerie precision on the axis of some enigmatic stone circle or send its beam like a well-aimed arrow through a keyhole passageway into the depths of an ancient burial tomb.
So don’t miss it.
Get out there and drink it in.
Reach up and try to pluck this low-lying fruit from the sky.
You won't have a better chance until 2043.
I'm sorry this dispatch is so brief.
So unripe.
I’ll have to count on the full moon itself to suffice.
It always does.
See you on the Buck Moon!
–WD
I am always delighted to read your words, whether they're a paragraph or an entire book's worth, and today is no different. I hope this coming month is an easier one for you, my friend.
Sending gratitude and healing your way.