To see the moon rising

For week after monotone week in early summer it seemed that neither sun nor moon would be permitted to shine down upon the residents of North Antrim. A hoizon-to-horizon blanket of grey enveloped us with its unwelcome insulation. Clouds with form and texture would even have been a welcome relief. But no. Just one seemingly endless cloud, largely without rain, often requiring the central heating to be kept on too far into the year. Really makes you want to read on, doesn’t it? But wait. Things change. Hints of summer, gaps in the cloud and then a few days of glorious warmth and clear night skies. Timed to perfection with the rising of the Sturgeon Moon, the last so-called supermoon of the year.

Time for another adventure with Lucy!

Ideally the best time to ‘shoot the moon’ is the day before it is at its fullest, because it rises when there is still enough light to include details in the landscape. But we could only go on the day itself.

We chose the little coastal village of Cushendun, with its easy access beach and clear view to where the moon would rise out of the sea.

It’s a long, twisting road over the Glens to reach Cushendun. With what relief Lucy tore off her socks and shoes and stepped into the calm waters. The dark band of night lay in a thin line across the horizon growing and stretching as it slowly pulled the glorious colours of dusk into deepest blue.

After a long paddle, Lucy arranged her folding chair on the sand, wrapped a fleece around her as the warmth of the day seeped away and waited.

A faint deep red glow low down on the horizon and then a rounded shape, like a newly minted coin emerging from a hidden forge. As it rose its light grew stronger and red melted into liquid gold.

It sat for a moment, rather misshapen and then escaped from the clutches of the sea to rise triumphant into the darkening sky, shooting a golden track across the sea to where we watched in total silence.

Moments of magic like this tend not to last, except in the memory, and, in our case, in the photographs. They won’t win any prizes. There was no iconic landmark to showcase. Just the sea, the sky and the moon. But we made a memory, Lucy and I. And when I am older and greyer and nodding by the fire, perhaps I’ll not need a photograph, but in my mind savour again seeing the wonder in her eyes, her face glowing in the red moonlight.