Night is defined and that part of the 24 hour cycle where the sun is not over the horizon and visible. Because in actuality, it is day. The morning part. Oh, three hundred hours, there abouts.
The moon is fat and glowing with icy cold and the snowy surface is bright white and filled with magic and ice.
There is a raccoon on my deck.
He's a big'un, and the age where he would rather tangle then scamper away. He doesn't scamper. Hasn't in years. He just looks up, sneering at the glaring deck lights, "Ya wanna piece o' me? Come on!"
They've been gone for a while. Chased away by the coyotes and fisher cats. We miss them. He's found something to eat on the deck step. I will leave out some more food when the sun comes up. If he's around after the snow storm he can have a snack.
The moon above, corpulent and full of party will soon diet and slim down to nothing, the raccoon will find other places to play and there will be change.
Change is the only constant in the universe.
I am in transition. Evolution. Metamorphosis. My only hope is that I will not be a giant cockroach when I am done. I look back and 2008 with wonder and curiosity. What the hell happened?
I'm not out of the woods yet.
I've not reached the point of safety, home base. I've not quite made it to the still waters of the harbor. This is not a place for a hobbit, oh, no siree! No handkerchiefs! No cakes! No warm fire!
But soon, if all goes well, I will return to my hobbit hole which, is like all hobbit things, built for comfort.
On my way home tonight, in the sterling gaze of the Hothering, Slothering Wander Blest Beast complete with Horro-shred option and dual turbo searchlights, a rabbit, grey and sleek ran out across the road. I jerked hard on the reins as I watched the rabbit vanish beneath the upper armor quarterdeck, surely into the masticating maw of the Rip Mower! My heart was pounding in fear as the Hothering, Slothering, Wanderblest Beast complete with Horro-shred option and dual turbo screamed in shock and anger, the retractable ripper blades clashing and spinning up to an ugly buzz. The Hothering, Slothering Wanderblest Beast complete with Horro-shred option and dual turbo , snorted, sniffing the ground, stomping and searching for the little rabbit.
Somehow, the little rabbit escaped.
Now, I don't believe in white witchcraft. I don't believe in signs from nature or scrying or any of that.
But a tenacious rabbit and a grumpy raccoon suddenly popping up for me is rather obvious.
The road ahead is going to be a little rocky, but soon it will all work out.