By the Light of the Moon

Joe went outside to get something from his car when he spotted this moon configuration hanging eerily surrounded by clouds.







Out in the chilly fall night photographing our quiet suburb I was thinking about the moon and my father, who died a little over a week ago. For a long time I have felt a closeness to my father while on nature-photo expeditions because he was the person who first inspired me to fall in love with the night's sky, lugging out his telescope and pointing out the constellations, Mars, Saturn and comets when they were near.

When we camped my dad would set up cots and we'd sit gazing up past tree tops at the magnificent show in the sky. A few days ago I found a sheet of paper on the ground on my landing. It containing an old memory I had written down while I was in college those nights camping. It reminded me that I often stayed gazing long after others had moved closer to the fire to talk or roast marshmallows. While my dad got me interested in the stars, I new my desire to observe quietly surpassed his. And so it is in nature that I recollect the ways in which he and I were the same and different.

And I carry him with me, as I always have, in moments like this. And although the memory of his death is new, I don't see these moments as sad. There is peace in having that kind of connection with a person that exists outside of physical existence. I am lucky to have had that relationship with him.

I am sure I will write more about him as I remember things. His memorial service will be held at his California ranch on Oct. 24.