Once in a strawberry moon

I went AWOL last week and apologies for the delay in this message.

I've been a bit overwhelmed by everything that I've got going on these past few weeks, and somehow also, there seems to be a mischievous mid-summer energy in the air.

Hot, still, star-spangled nights filled with the echoing yelps of foxes. A neighbourhood cat slinking through pools of streetlamp light on soundless paws.

Crowds of seagulls squabbling on rooftops at top volume at 3am, like drunk, rowdy hooligans. And a few hours later, the most stunning, breathtaking colours staining the skies as the sun slides around the corner of the planet again.

A friend picked me up from work on the night of the full moon last month. We drove to a nearby beach and sat on the pebbles, wrapped in a couple of blankets, and clinked glasses filled with something crisp and bubbly. And as the beautiful, shining orb climbed high above us, we talked about how some things change, and some things don't.

Picking up a pen or a brush, I think about these experiences, and about what kind of spirits might be at work to help to orchestrate them, and who might like to be depicted.