Full Moon

 Full moon over Highland Park

I set my camera for 15 seconds, hand-held, which produced this blurry image shot by a drunk, but I wanted to capture the full moon while it was still relatively low in the sky, so here it is, overlooking Highland Park, and beyond.


I didn't work tonight, but instead of enjoying myself, I was walking a thin line of anxiety from being at home: should I rush downtown to see a program, call a friend for a drink, run to the bookstore? My heart was pounding and I was wishing I had something to drink, when I heard a strange sound coming from my neighbor Thea's yard. I looked out the window and saw five skunks—five!— walking up from the canyon below to grab some cat food and drink from the many bowls she leaves lying about. The skunks were everywhere, like circus clowns, dashing in and out of the garage, around the yard, challenging the one stray cat that found himself literally up against a wall, and I began to wonder if there were only five— maybe 20? 

After the skunks left, I decided to go for a walk but paused on the front porch, listening to a hoot owl on the other side of the house, in my neighbor Elliot's patch of tall Eucalyptus trees. What I hadn't heard before, but heard now, was another hoot owl, further up the hill, answering the first one: "hooo hoooo hooooot," and then the answer, "Hoooooooooooo," like that, back and forth. Walking, I continued to hear them; a million crickets were singing up from Heidelberg Canyon across the way, and dogs were barking at the traffic down in Highland Park, and a siren whizzed by, and somebody was talking sternly to their dog, and an old jalopy was putt-putting down the road as though it were on its last legs. It was only 7:10, and so much activity! What had I been missing these last two years, teaching at night? It was delicious: being home, hearing these sounds.