La Bella Luna

Hello, gentle readers! I’m getting a super late start on the blog post today because I was up late last night and, this morning, I had an interview at a local bookstore.
From the above, you can probably guess that I’m a night person. I’m not sure how this came about as I think everybody else in my family is a morning person. My mother, an incurable gardener, is up before the sun some days. I, on the other hand, consider it an early start if I’m up before noon.
In my last career, I worked nights for fifteen years. My shift started at three in the afternoon and didn’t end until eleven that night. I’d get off work, stop by the all-night supermarket to grab supper, then go home. I’d pop my supper in the microwave, watch a little late night television, check e-mail, then write or read until I went to bed.
One of the few things I didn’t care for, when I was living in Alaska, was the absence of proper night in the summer. I missed summer nights, being able to stand on a fresh-cut lawn, head tilted back to admire the moon and stars.
Oh sure, there was plenty of night in the winter, but it’s hard to admire the moon and stars in minus zero conditions. Every indrawn breath freezes the interiors of your nostrils. Your feet invariably get cold, no matter how many socks you’re wearing or how waterproof your boots. It’s one of those unwritten rules, like a subway train arriving just as you’ve settled down to read the paper or the telephone ringing while you’re in the shower.
The other night I came home. It was nine-o-clock. The weather was warm and dry. Standing by my car, in the quite darkness of the cul-de-sac, I lifted my head to admire the sky. It was clear, the stars resembling grains of salt on a black field. The moon was sailing overhead, bright and beautiful. La bella luna.
You can keep the sun, garish and gold, setting off crowing cocks. You can have the morning, waking to buzzing alarms and the smell of burnt coffee. You’re welcome to the day, with all its hubbub and noise, traffic jams and dentist appointments.
I’ll take the night and the moon and be content.