[uujudy]

Just like last month's last full moon of 2008, this weekend's full moon is the biggest and brightest of 2009. It's a "perigee Moon" as much as 50,000 km closer to Earth than other full moons we'll see later this year.

Perigee moonlight shining through icy winter air can produce beautiful halos, coronas, moondogs and other atmospheric optics phenomena. Sample photos are featured on today's edition of Spaceweather.com.

[Boomer]

uu,

Thank you.

I always like it so much when you tell us to go outside and look up.

When I read your post just now, I jumped up from the computer here in the kitchen and went outside -- in freezing cold weather -- and looked East.

Alas, we are overcast tonight.

I will look again later. Maybe it will clear up.

And now, I just have to digress a little. It is what I do sometimes so consider yourself warned.

When I see a spectacular moon, I always think of that poem "The Highwayman." The opening stanza.

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding, riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door......

Ohhhhh, maybe some of you remember the rest of that story.

I do so digress tonight.

But anyway, uu, I just want to say that even though there is nothing scientific about me, I really like it when you give us a heads up and I can go outside and think poetry. Thank you.

Boomer

[tony]

Oh, now I understand. When you said big moon I was thinking of something else.

[nONIE]

TONY!!!!!!!!

[Boomer]

Originally Posted by tony

Oh, now I understand. When you said big moon I was thinking of something else.

Ahem,

Mr. Tony, Mr. Admin, Sir:

We are tryng to have some intellectual discussion here.

Boomer

[Whalen]

Originally Posted by Boomer

uu,

Thank you.

I always like it so much when you tell us to go outside and look up.

When I read your post just now, I jumped up from the computer here in the kitchen and went outside -- in freezing cold weather -- and looked East.

Alas, we are overcast tonight.

I will look again later. Maybe it will clear up.

And now, I just have to digress a little. It is what I do sometimes so consider yourself warned.

When I see a spectacular moon, I always think of that poem "The Highwayman." The opening stanza.

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding, riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door......

Ohhhhh, maybe some of you remember the rest of that story.

I do so digress tonight.

But anyway, uu, I just want to say that even though there is nothing scientific about me, I really like it when you give us a heads up and I can go outside and think poetry. Thank you.

Boomer

The words to The Highwayman were the first thing I ever "searched"
on th Internet, pre Google!


The Highwayman a poem by Alfred Noyes


The Highwayman

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding
Riding riding
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle
His rapier hilt a-twinkle
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter
Bess, the landlord's daughter
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened--his face was white and peaked
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter
The landlord's black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o'er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight
(O sweet black waves in the moonlight!),
And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching
Marching marching
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window,
And Hell at one dark window,
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
"Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."

She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding
Riding riding
The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.

Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight
Her musket shattered the moonlight
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.

He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway,
Down like a dog in the highway,
And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding
Riding riding
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter
Bess, the landlord's daughter
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair

The Highwayman
Alfred Noyes

[Boomer]

Hey Whalen,

Thanks.

Oh I know it's all sex and violence, but it is a beautiful poem. All those word pictures. All that moonlight.

Boomer

[homeball]

Yeah, if it wasn't snowing so hard, I'm sure it must be a beautiful site.

-Dave-

[Boomer]

Good morning,

uuj, I checked again late last night, but the Cincinnati sky had not cleared.

Moonlight. There is nothing like moonlight.

Maybe next time.

And, uu, please keep keeping us posted on the night sky.

Boomer

[tony]

You wanna hear about more big moons?

[Boomer]

Originally Posted by tony

You wanna hear about more big moons?

Ahem, Ahem, Ahem,

Mr. Tony, Mr. Admin, Sir:

We are trying to have a classy, intellectual discussion here, both scientific and poetic. Math and words -- all here. Both sides of the brain. How much more intellectual and classy could we get, huh?

And you, Mr. Tony, Mr. Admin, Sir, insist upon talking about....well......

How did you spend your youth, Mr. Tony, Mr. Admin, Sir? Did you and your buddies drive through town in a '57 Chevy mooning the locals? Something tells me.... maybe yes.....No?

Boomer

[golfnut]

we were out playing night golf last night at Saddlebrook, moon really helped light things up..............GN

[Best Mom]

A friend and I were out walking our dogs last night and the moon was just beautiful!

[Donna]

Originally Posted by tony

You wanna hear about more big moons?

I am shocked!

[uujudy]

Originally Posted by Boomer

uu,

Thank you.

I always like it so much when you tell us to go outside and look up.

When I read your post just now, I jumped up from the computer here in the kitchen and went outside -- in freezing cold weather -- and looked East.
. . .
When I see a spectacular moon, I always think of that poem "The Highwayman." The opening stanza.

The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding, riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door......

Ohhhhh, maybe some of you remember the rest of that story.


But anyway, uu, I just want to say that even though there is nothing scientific about me, I really like it when you give us a heads up and I can go outside and think poetry. Thank you.

Boomer

Boomer, You're quite welcome! I'm sorry your weather didn't cooperate. The moon was lovely here last night.
Judy