FOG, MOON, AND SHADOWS

These February days are slowly getting longer but not nearly enough. It still gets dark too early and daylight is quickly lost in mountain shadows.

Two nights ago it was frigid, a chilling 12 degrees (Fahrenheit). Last night was much warmer, but a wild wind whipped around -  singing like a phantom chorus through the treetops, wailing in distant unseen places.
And then the rain began.
Intense dampness, as always, prevails.

I've been having disturbing dreams. Of people long dead whom I love. They want to contact me but, try as they might, there is no connection. I wander through a somber dreamscape of darkness trying to find them but they remain elusive.
I hate these dreams. They don't frighten me. But they are unsettling.

My dreams are always dark now, reflecting my waking hours. Enough said.

I'm in one of my melancholy Magyar moods. Which only serves to make me annoyingly intriguing (he says with a grim sarcastic smile).

Despite having an enormous amount of important things to do, I baked a cake last night. Then sat - eating cake and drinking coffee - while watching a YouTube video of Swan Lake.

And remembering the very first "live" performance of Swan Lake that I ever saw: one magical long-ago February night at the Los Angeles Music Center. It was the ABT (American Ballet Theater) - during the golden era when Lucia Chase was still alive.

But I'm being boring.....

How about some visuals?

The sunrise a few days ago - I can't remember exactly when. Possibly Thursday? This is a view from the back porch.

The full moon - the "blue moon".

These photos were taken just before dawn, when the tired moon was drifting towards the west.

Midday fog on the front part of my property. This was taken on Friday.

BLUE MOON

This is the night of the Blue Moon. A so-called blue moon occurs when there are two full moons in one month. January, 2018 had a full moon on the 2nd and on the 31st.

While you marvel at my knowledge and the astounding wonders of nature, I'll admit that I'm actually writing this in the early morning hours of February 1st. But it's still dark outside and the moon is still full. 
Not blue.
But full. 

In honor of the not-so-blue full moon, I've decided to torture you with my piano rendition of Clair de Lune (Moonlight) by Claude Debussy (1862-1918).

Long-time readers of my blog have seen this video before - but I'm assuming that they'll politely ignore the fact and enjoy seeing it again (I'm being a wiseass). 
Question:
Is "wise ass" one word or two? It doesn't often occur in my vocabulary.
Only about once in a blue moon.

A few program notes:
I recorded this video when I lived in Texas - - when I was already past my prime (almost) and far past my youthful days in California when I was a genuine musician. 

This composition by Debussy was originally titled Promenade Sentimentale, but he later changed the title to Clair de Lune - based on a poem by Paul Verlaine.

Critics could probably say that I play this piece too fast, too harshly, and too loud.
I say "Crap!" (and I'm being polite).

I've always maintained that most pianists play this piece far too slowly and with too much sweetness and delicacy. 

The average time length for a pianist to perform this is somewhere between five to six minutes.
I recently saw one pianist (a near-comatose female) who took over six and a half minutes to play it.
That isn't a performance. It's a crucifixion.

According to this video, I take about 4 minutes and 32 seconds to play Clair de Lune.

And my interpretative instincts are correct!!!!
I recently discovered an actual recording of Claude Debussy playing this and he only takes 3 minutes and 51 seconds.

Of course, these ancient recordings may not be entirely accurate, but they're close enough.
Here's the Debussy version.

 

MOONLIGHT MADNESS

The moon is full, or almost full, or just past being full. I used to know all the progressions of the lunar phases during my astronomical phase. Lately I'm in my "know nothing" phase.

One thing that's common knowledge: weird things happen during the spell of a full moon. When I lived in the city, the full moon yielded a marked increase in robberies, murders, and other unpleasant incidents involving unhinged individuals.

Here in the Tennessee mountain wilderness, the night of the full moon seems to inspire increased activity in the nocturnal residents of the forest: more bands of marauding coyotes and roving packs of wild dogs. Some of them (coyotes? dogs?) were howling unnervingly close to my bedroom window late last night. Owls in flight were screeching and hooting with unusual enthusiasm. I even heard squealing bats.

I'm very used to the sounds of nature at night, but last night the surplus of sounds was almost alarming. Even my trio of cats displayed unusual degrees of nervousness.

Early this evening, just after moonrise, I was sitting at the kitchen table in the company of this laptop. I suddenly hear very loud slurping sounds coming from outside near the back porch.

My cat Scratch happened to be outside (against my better judgement - but she's persistent). Scratch doesn't slurp and is never loud. This slurping sound was mega. I figured it was either a leaking pipe.....or a stegosaurus. And I wasn't in the mood to deal with either.

I reluctantly got up and looked out the kitchen window. There by the porch was the biggest dog I ever saw, drinking from a bucket of rain water. This canine was startlingly big. Ringling Bros. Barnum and Bailey big. It looked like a cross between a great dane and an Appaloosa horse.

My first concern was my cat Scratch - who could very possibly have already been eaten. The rainwater might be serving as a chaser to wash her down. 

The dog saw me through the window and started to growl. Not a good sign. I'm an innocent entity out here in Nowhereland. Animal Control wouldn't come if I reported a herd of buffalo.

Worst of all, I have a huge uncovered kitchen window - just two feet above the floor - with only a thin sheet of glass separating me from the forest. The dog can see every inch of me. If he jumped through the glass I'd be history.

All of my cats enjoy sitting on a wooden box and looking out the kitchen window. If they were there now, they'd be instant targets for the dog. I quickly locked Scruffy and Bosco in a bedroom.

I seldom panic easily, but my heart was pounding at the bizarre thought that the dog might never leave. What if he decides to take up permanent residence here?
And where the hell is Scratch? Hopefully in a tree - - and not mincemeat stuck between Rover's teeth..

Is this story getting too long? I'm enjoying writing it, and I know you're enjoying reading it - -  even you miserable critics who hate my blog.

The monster dog hung around for at least an hour. I couldn't do anything but wait it out. Finally I didn't see him. I opened the back door a crack and called "Kitzee!" (that's what Scratch answers to). In half a minute, Scratch appeared and darted in the door faster than I ever saw the old gal go. She was in one piece and still had her tail.

I breathed a Big Sigh of relief (capitalized for emphasis). I haven't seen the dog since.

I blame the full moon for the bizarre incident. I'm keeping the cats indoors.

I'm suddenly starting to feel unusually hairy...and realized that I haven't shaved in days. A beard is growing. My chest hair seems to be thickening.

Hirtsuism?
Impending lycanthropy?? 

Who the hell knows. I feel like howling.

All the moon photos were taken in my back yard a few nights ago.