The stars on a cold clear night sure seem big and bright, and closer, too. As if they were just over the treetops. And last night as I left a friend’s house in the chill of the evening, I could see Orion’s belt, clear as day, and it felt as though I could reach up and unbuckle it, and as I drove through the dark, I surprised the moon resting on a hilltop, taking a break before it continued its journey into the night of a December sky. It seemed to be just over there.

I wanted to stop and take a picture, but realized my technical skills would have a hard time translating to a digital image what I was seeing. So, I let my mind do the work of image capture and drove on, sneaking a peak now and again at the embarrassed moon as it got busy rising into the starlit sky, which is still mighty visible in our neck of the woods even though the bright lights of the cities to our south and east are increasingly encroaching on our horizons.

This morning it was colder still, and the stars seemed just as bright, but now the sun says enough, it’s my turn, look at me. And we will, because, well, it’s the sun, and we have little choice in the matter. Even with clouds, you still know it’s there. But on this cold clear day there remains a decent chill in the air, and sometimes the sun only gives us enough light to see and insists we warm ourselves which is why I’m wearing a light jacket and fur-lined slippers and being grateful for my snug stone house with central air and heat and my warm memories of visiting with friends last night and playing a little music.