Moon Sliver

I couldn’t get a good picture of this bright thumbnail of moon a few weeks ago, but it’s something I don’t want to forget.  It struck me as being so beautiful–like I was living inside a piece of magic.  The night was still, clear, cold–the kind of night you listen for a coyote’s howl, and the listening alone is thrilling, even if you don’t hear one.

There are so many things I don’t want to forget.  I think that’s one of the main reasons I write.  And also why I become so frustrated with writing.  Like–frogs croaking on a July night, another beautiful-moon night.  The frogs left me feeling peaceful and lucky when I’d been feeling tired and discouraged.  But what am I ever going to do with that?  And why do I feel like I have to ‘do’ anything with it at all?  Why can’t I just live it and enjoy it and let it go?  Because I’m a writer, I suppose.

This afternoon, I’m too tired to have any drive or discontent left.   I’ll be happy to get on the snowmobile and ride home.  It seems good to want something simple and attainable.  I probably should try it more often.

Category: After Work 11 comments »

11 Responses to “Moon Sliver”

  1. Tony Block

    I once read that keeping a journal (blog nowadays) is the best way to save one’s life. I think that is why you do it.
    The frogs remind me of listening to the peepers from Soldenski’s pond (below the hill across from the Catholic church) during summer nights from my bedroom. I can still think about that sound and it puts me back there.

  2. ellenair

    Same frogs, same pond, I think, Tony!

  3. Jana Rector - Churubusco, IN

    Well, I thought enough time has gone by that I’d be ready to re-read South of Superior so I started it today. I wondered if I would like it as well as the first time.
    I am liking it – even better – am savoring it. Like when I slowly nibble one of your oatmeal & raisin cookies, enjoying each bite, because I know how good it’s going to be.
    I’m glad it didn’t turn out to be a “read only once” book. Blessings to you and Rick.

    Jana, thank you so much for your lovely words about the book.

  4. sue scherman

    You Give me a breath of U.P. air when I miss it so much. Thanks, Ellen.

  5. Barb Hendricks

    Thanks for blogging even when you’re so tired. I’ve been wishing lately to read some comments of yours. I so enjoy reading about what you think about, how you perceive things and express your thoughts. Peeking into your world is always refreshing for me. Your world seems gentle and caring, more pensive. I suspect your days are filled with just plain hard work and yet you grab memorable moments of people, places and things and lift them out so we can see and appreciate, too.

    Barb, thank you so much for your kind words!

  6. ellenair

    Sue, Thank you!

  7. patti brehler

    Oh my gosh, you took the words right out of my head!

    “But what am I ever going to do with that? And why do I feel like I have to ‘do’ anything with it at all? Why can’t I just live it and enjoy it and let it go? Because I’m a writer, I suppose.”

    I’m guessing I’m less a “writer” than I am a “be-er.” Thanks for sharing and as always, I look forward to reading…

  8. Pamela Grath

    I know what you mean, Ellen. First challenge is to see, really see the world around us. Then to remember what we’ve seen, heard, felt, tasted…

  9. Linda Mathews

    I think being a good writer also means being a good filter for the human experience. You do both beautifully. Thanks for making the simple and good more permanent in our minds by sharing your experiences!

  10. ellenair

    Linda, Thank you for your beautiful compliment!

  11. Rose Tithof

    Gooood morning from sunny Las Vegas. I have just started reading blogs; never had an interest and now I am so affected by them (especially this one of yours) that I will keep reading them and maybe write one. Ellen, you have been a role model for me. How fun to peek in on happenings at Grand Marais, your writing views and then a memory: listening to those same peepers in Soldenski’s pond with my daughters. Grand Marais will forever be embedded in my memory.

    Ellen, I love your sincere, clear, reflective and tender musings. What a joy to read! AND, you know I am one of your cookie monster addicts.


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