When I was a kid, I read a rather sentimental book called Never Miss a Sunset. I can’t remember what it was about exactly, so this tells you how life-changing the whole experience was for me, but what I do remember is that it was a pioneer tale of some sort (of which I read many, many, many) and Pa (there’s always a Pa, except if you’re a Boxcar child, and then there’s not) wanted the family to gather and make sure and see the sunset — no matter how much work or worry piled on. And so, the title of the book, at least, has stuck with me. And the concept is good.
In Scotland, we never miss a moonrise. We look out and see if there’s visible sky, and proceed from there. We’ve photographed every full moon we’ve been able to see here, which is maybe four in three years. (It could be that the fog clears or the rain stops after we’re asleep and we’re missing photo ops, but, well, one has to sleep…) The city has so much ambient lighting that we never think we’ll get a good shot — and then we do.
This hour, I’m awake, while most of my friends and family are asleep. But it’s the same moon. The only moon. So, we’re closer than we think.