Note: Due to internet service issues, this post was delayed. It was written on the eve of 2-18 but did not get posted until the morning of 2-19.
A busy day, I had to scramble to get outside before daylight was done. I found the woods cast in a bedtime hue, that pleasant, slightly detectable pink that can be felt more than seen.
As the sun set, I thought about the moon. Tonight comes the new moon, which means the earth, moon, and sun will align, which means higher-than-normal tides. Called the spring tide, this phase can cause serious trouble when it coincides with a strong, coastal, winter storm.
One historic mid-Atlantic storm hit during a spring tide, on Ash Wednesday, March 1962. For all the real estate and infrastructure the storm destroyed, it also helped build something remarkable: Assateaque Island National Seashore
The storm submerged the island, which controversial development was just beginning scar. But thanks in part to the moon and its gravitational pull, the work was halted as a bad idea. Today the park is a refreshing natural oasis in a coastline of buildings, roads, bridges, lights, man-made dunes, and synthetic scenery. Assateaque, now a famous barrier island park, is home to many things wild, including ponies, surf fishermen, and even better sunsets than ones I see from the woods.
So while you are hidden in shadow, new moon, I know you are up there, pulling for me, pulling for us, pulling for the earth.
