Lunar

photo from Squirrel's video

The “Harvest Moon,” the internet tell us is the full moon nearest the start of fall or the autumnal equinox.  The “Harvest Moon,” says the Old Farmer’s Almanac, “isn’t like the other Moons. Usually, throughout the year, the Moon rises an average of about 50 minutes later each day. But near the autumnal equinox, the difference is only 30 minutes.”

All right then.  That explains why the luminous orb began appearing behind the Starbucks building as we pedaled along the industrial waterfront right after sunset, providing the first of the night’s many opportunities for howling at our planet’s shimmering satellite and also, I suppose, why it cast such remarkable shadows in Japanese Gardens, abandoned roadways, and alongside one more goddamned hill throughout the course of the evening’s festivities.

What it fails to make sense of, however, is how delightful each and every one of these opportunities turned out to be, even in the face of a certain bittersweet quality at the imminent departure for points south of a longtime OG member of the clan, whose fire-riding skills were on display one last time to the amusement of all and the detriment of his rear tire after the third time through the glimmering coals.

Speaking of things unlike other things, it was the first time, in my recollection, that the assembled have ever been chastised by a hobo, (as opposed to merely screamed at in passing), and the point was probably well-taken, (although given that the forest wasn’t ever set afire, perhaps superfluous).  Ultimately, no disrespect to outsider art was intended and given that, as our homeless interlocutor pointed out, all of the land upon which we were convening was originally Duwamish people’s territory, I think we can all agree that enjoyment of it around a hearty bonfire would be an appropriate homage to spirits both past and present.

One thing is certain: it was a ride as full of it as the moon, shine on, ride on.