Blood Moon: Part 1

I brought up the idea to go out and witness the Super Blood Moon to my husband early in the afternoon. He’s not one to stay up and watch things like auroras or eclipses because he gets up so early and these things too often take place during the wee morning hours but, because this was to be an early event, even though he’d miss a football game, he said, “I’ll think about it. But why can’t we watch it from here?”

“We won’t be able to watch it from here because the moon won’t rise above the mountain until much later. We’ll have to drive someplace where we can see the moonrise, somewhere behind the mountain.”

Towards five p.m., a friend called. She said, “There’s an eclipse hap—”

“I know, the Super Blood Moon. Do you want to watch it together?”

These Blood Moons are a really big deal to a lot of Christians because the tetrads correspond to Jewish feast days. Many Christians of various denominations think, because of prophecies dealing with end times, that these blood moons are extremely significant. Whether they are or not, they are rare events and I don’t like to miss them. The last blood moon I viewed alone from my backdoor, while my husband slept through it. I love to be a part of these events. I didn’t want to view this one alone. These things aren’t meant to be experienced alone.

She and perhaps her husband (who was “thinking about it” like mine was,) would arrive at our place around seven. Once my husband heard hers was probably coming, he decided to record the game and we gathered some things together, like our little tiny camera, which would be better than nothing, and warm clothing while we debated about whether we should view the eclipse from John Wayne Marina or from the top back of the mountain behind our house. He said, “I think we should go up the mountain but you’re driving. It’s your decision.”

I worried the moon wouldn’t be high enough to see so early if we went to the marina. I was leaning towards his judgement about the backside of the mountain as the surest bet. “Why am I driving?”

“I don’t feel like it.”

At six fifty-five, or thereabouts, the phone rang again. Another Christian neighbor. She asked, “Would it be alright if I park my car in your driveway and then ride with my son up the mountain to view the Super Blood Moon?”

Her son’s an accomplished photographer. Of course it was alright. He was in a hurry to set up his camera equipment to wait for  us. He and his mom arrived within minutes and split, traveling up the logging road  to high ground. We didn’t have a chance to ask them where on the mountain they were headed.

We all realized the need to gain not only higher ground somewhere behind the mountain to see this event because the moon wouldn’t rise above the mountain for three to four hours after the eclipse was over. There is more than one area on the back of the mountain that will work and my husband had a particular spot in mind.

Our other friend arrived minutes after they’d left. Her husband decided not to come. Shortly after the sun descended beyond the horizon, We jumped in my car. Why we took my car instead of either her truck or my husbands was beyond me. Oh well, the rush was on. No time to fiddle with questions like that. “We” consisted of my friend, another Christian outdoor enthusiast, our dog, Ziggy Zorro, and my ever-lovin’ husband, who didn’t want to drive but insisted in telling me how — to the point that I finally, company or no, said, “I wish I’d remembered to bring the iron skillet to bonk you with!”

That got a chuckle from the back seat and kept him quiet for another hundred yards.

So I drove us up the mountain — on the logging road — in my low-rider Impala.

I’ve driven regular cars on logging roads for many years. I miss my van. Regular cars tend to bottom out, sit low, and then, there is the SAAB story. (I won’t get into that here. That’s in an upcoming book.) My van sat high, had truck tires and was short enough to turn around in tight spots. Oh well.

The higher I drove, the darker it became. I hoped we wouldn’t have to contend with the fog that creeps around the top of this hill, either now or later, on our way back down. There is a fresh clear-cut that it really settles on that boasts some decent drop offs. It gets so thick that there are times you can’t see even two feet in front of the hood of your car, no matter your headlights. And there’s druggies, thieves, bears, cougars, and Sasquatches too.

To be continued . . .

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