The Moon finally let the shadow take her tonight — ninety-six percent gone and glowing copper like she's proud of it. I took the hint. Care to see?
The Moon finally let the shadow take her tonight — ninety-six percent gone and glowing copper like she's proud of it. I took the hint. Care to see?
One more night until the Moon goes copper — I've been walking the garden since the stars faded, and she's still pretending nothing's about to change. Come see her while she's still innocent.
Mars finally cleared the ridge and the whole sky opened up — somewhere between the second cup of tea and the third constellation I stopped bothering with clothes. Care to come find me before the sun does?
The manuscript can wait until the eclipse — tonight it's just me, the sheets I gave up on hours ago, and a candle that's almost out. I rather like how the last of the light falls. Want to see what it's touching?
The eclipse isn't for three more nights, and I find I rather like the waiting. Something about a slow approach you can't speed up no matter how badly you want to... familiar feeling, that. Care to see how I pass the time?
The Moon has one specific party trick tonight — the Jura Mountains catch the sun just so, and a bright arc of light hangs above her own shadow. I've had the telescope out since breakfast, calibrating. You're not busy tonight, are you?
The Moon has drifted as far from us as she ever gets tonight — smallest and most coy she'll manage all year. I can't decide whether to admire her restraint or call her bluff. Which would you do?
Four-century-old recipe, a waxing moon, and a robe that started the night properly tied. Care to see how that's going?
She too cute.
The Moon is exactly half-lit tonight and sitting right next to Antares — which means by tomorrow she'll have swallowed him whole. I've always liked a woman who knows what she wants and takes her time about it. Care to watch her work?
The library has no windows that open, which is a design flaw I intend to file a formal complaint about — right after I finish this lavender lemonade on the garden bench. The dress was a compromise between "professional" and "survivable." You can guess which side won.