Moonset

When I got out of bed around 6:30 this morning I glanced out the window to see the full moon shining through the (still bare) tree branches in a Matisse-blue sky.  Naturally the blue got out of hand in my picture of it but you get the idea.  The whole world wasn't blue no matter what the camera thought, really it wasn't.  I have a list of Full Moon Names and they're an interesting mix for March.  Since it's a winter month and the end of winter at that, the March full moon names can be a bit of a downer.  The Choctaw call it the Big Famine Moon, the Dakotah Sioux name it Moon when Eyes are Sore from Bright Snow, and the Neo Pagans (whoever they are) call it the Death Moon (is it related to the Death Star?).  The Chinese are a bit better with Sleepy Moon, the Celts and Cherokees call it Windy Moon, Colonial Americans called it the Fish Moon, and last the Medieval English called it Chaste Moon.  Seems like nobody was inspired or creative in March.  I know just how they felt.  BUT it was sunny and 45 yesterday and supposed to be the same again today.  Both days that I work, of course.  I think the nice is supposed to hang on until Friday at least so I may just plant myself in a sunny spot and bask.

Speaking of sunny and warm, all that salting I did on the driveway glacier so I could walk across it without killing myself paid off.  When I got home from work yesterday our half of the glacier was gone.  It's amazing.  You can see how far the salt scattered.  I guess I'm a mediocre landlady; I salted my half of the driveway and not the renter's.  Hey, I snowblow hers when I do mine if she hasn't shoveled and I always take care of the snowplow drifts, but I'm not the mom of her.  I'm only the mom of DS & DD, I try not to mom DIL1 & DIL2 since they have perfectly good moms of their own.  Don't get me wrong, I am not a paragon; I said I try, I don't always succeed.

March 28--Nigeria, Bracelets.  They twined like gold ribbons on her slender wrists.  The metal was carved like scales with stylized alligator heads at the ends.  Detective Moore stood in the pool of light cast by the desk lamp trying to decide why no blood stained them.  She had been beautiful, tall and slender with pale coffee-colored hair and skin like the richest cream.  Her long dark brown hair fanned out around her like a corona.  She wore only the gold bracelets, the rest of her was covered in blood, her own blood, dark and congealed.  The maid had found her.  Detective Moore could hear the woman's hiccuping sobs from the kitchen.  He needed to talk to her.

Ugh, grisly.  Sorry for that start to your day.  Time to get a move on.  Durwood's got the tax stuff all ready so I can drop it off at the tax guy's office on my way to work.  Tally-ho!
--Barbara