It was, as Van Morrison sang, a marvelous night for a moondance.
A crisp September night with the leaves starting to fall, and me on our deck with my lovely bride.
It took us nearly an hour after it rose to spot the Blood Moon in the eastern sky. It did finally come through the purple haze of a fading sunset soiree.
Faintly at first, then turning blood red.
We toasted the event: Me with a moon pie and my lovely bride with a pint of Guinness.
“We are witnesses to this,” my lovely bride said.
We are indeed.
Good morning Longbranch.