The Sanguine Moon
Last night, after a week of reading about it and hearing about it on the news, we had a full, lunar eclipse. As with most press-hyped events, the sanguine moon event was yet another disappointment.
Astronomers excitedly coaxed me to look by saying that if I missed this wonder I'd have to wait until 2010 to see it again. This sent waves of urgency running through me until I realized that 2010 is less than two years away.
Well, you just never know. I figured I'd better watch it this time - just in case.
While I watched the earth's shadow crawl across the surface of the moon
- I waited with breathless anticipation to see the earth's dusty and particulated
atmosphere cast its polluted umbra across the pocked, lunar face. I was
perfectly ready to be teased, titillated and awed by the site of a bloated,
blood-red moon hovering ruddy in the clear, winter sky.
I'm not sure what turquoise looks like, I don't even
have a tie that color - or anything else in my life that color - so
I have no point of reference. However, I would have known a
moon of turquoise had the slivery sphere turned any color other than
one which I could easily recognize from my kindergarten days.
If the moon would have turned any color other than one I am familiar with, I would have shivered in jubilant waves of exaltation - perhaps hopping wildly around in my backyard with arms flailing.
Had this eclipsed moon turned any color which was not
immediately recognizable I would have assumed that it was
"turquoise" - the color that astronomers had promised me.
But, as far as I could see from my backyard vantage point, they
were wrong about everything else.
But, my bet is that they don't know what turquoise
looks like either.
I remember the comet that swung by in the 1990's. It was supposed to dazzle me with its brilliance, colors, and long, fiery tail. When it finally came, I spent an hour one summer night squinting my eyes, gawking upward, wanting to become a witness to this once-in-a-lifetime astronomical event.
But, all I saw was a tiny, dim, fuzzy, blot of light that looked exactly like a dim, blurry star.
I wish scientists and astronomers wouldn't get so gaga over these kinds of things. If they're going to write highly emotional press-releases, full of hyperbole, announcing some stellar event, it better be something that spellbinds me or I'll never believe anything they say again.
I want to see something astonishing; something I don't have to crane my neck for hours trying to find. I don't want to waste my time standing around in my backyard looking like a fool, only to see some stellar event fizzle in front of my cynical and skeptical eyeballs.
Rarely are these much-hyped events as
advertised. They usually turn out to be some pathetically dull point of light
in the sky that, had I not been worked - up into a fevered frenzy by
the astronomers' hyperbole-laden prose -
I wouldn't have noticed at all.
There I was, running around in the freezing air, at exactly 8:43PM,, looking, I imagine, like a real idiot. You can bet that the neighbors were treated to a big dose of schadenfreude. I hope they enjoyed it. I didn't.
I turned my frozen face upward and spent an hour
staring at the sky waiting to see the gates of heaven open - only to
see some blurry, black shadow slowly cross the cratered face of the
I would have accepted any color. Even a subtle, muted tint of color. A pale rose perhaps? A fetid green? I drab bluish color? A pale yellow-orange might have been nice. Turquoise would have been wonderful even if I don't know what it looks like. I would have loved to see a turquoise moon but I would have been delighted with a dull, sanguine one.
Oh but I would have literally gasped at turquoise.
I must admit though, I'm most devastated this
morning, not because the moon didn't turn red, but because the moon
did not wax turquoise - a color I really wanted to see.
Even a little twinge of turquoise would have delighted me right down to my cynical core. Though I don't know what turquoise looks like, I know that I didn't see any last night.
I stood outside in the freezing minus-five-degree air, stupidly gazing up into the sky hoping to see an amazing stellar show. I froze to death waiting to see a sanguine moon turn turquoise on a cloudless, frigid winter night. I saw neither red or turquoise. I saw nothing at all but a shadow eat slowly away at the moonlight and then retreat slowly - revealing the same old face of the moon I've seen thousands of times before.
This morning I feel my cynicism vindicated and my neck sore.
Tell us what you think - Please
All content is copyright ©2008 by Cloudeight Internet.