Full moons can be alluring, enlightening and romantic.
Full moons can also be dangerous.
A full moon brings to mind images of Normal Rockwell’s painting of a young couple kissing silhouetted against warm, enchanting moon.
Another image of the full moon has black cats, witches and tombstones silhouetted against a menacing moon.
The moon in my tale was the most alluring of moons with a two-feet of bright white snow sparkling with the reflections of a million ice crystals. You could have read a book in this light.
This beautiful night made it easy to persuade my frost-adverse wife to go for a moonlight ski in the woods behind our house.
“Oh, it will be sooooo romantic,” she replied.
It was a rare night. The full, bountiful green trees of summer, were replaced with crooked branches of winter, covered with snow. An occasional call of an owl broke the total silence. There was something other-worldly about this night.
Since it was below zero out, we wrapped ourselves in the thickest of wool sweaters, scarves and hats. I couldn’t see my wife’s face for the hat pulled down over her forehead and the scarf across her face. This was all engulfed in the furry hood of her green, US Army surplus wool parka. She looked like an Eskimo making her way through the trail, lighted by the silver-blue tint of the moon.
She can’t see much without her glasses. I could tell it was her in all this cover by the occasional lunar reflection from her wire rims.
We made our way to a hill in an open meadow about two acres wide. A steady, chilling breeze didn’t make this the most hospitable place on the planet. We stood for a time marveling at the bright stillness. We talked about how small it makes you feel to see so many stars spread across the horizon.
Caught up in the beauty of the moment. I had to give this wooly woman a quick kiss on the frosty little nose projecting into the night air.
We made a swift retreat toward the woods. She took off first, sailing down the steep hill. Half way down the hill she failed to make the turn, gently falling into the deep snow.
“Don’t worry, I’m coming to rescue you,” called this heroic Nordic Knight.
This is where I lost myself in the risky romance of the time. My plan was to swing out, come along her lying in the snow, plop down beside her and plant another great kiss, on her lips.
Oh, the best laid plans of mice and clumsy men.
I swooped along side her just fine but I was a bit too close. She turned to avoid the crash and I came down, unto her shoulder forcing her face into the deep snow.
All that clothing she wrapped so well around her head opened up, serving as a giant scoop forcing snow down her neck.
She went into the snow yelling in terror and came up with a mouth full of snow. This was a good thing because it covered up the few choice words she had to say.
Instead of enjoying this moonlit moment, we were scraping chilling snow off her face and out of her neck.
She lost her thin, wire rim glasses in the deep snow. It was a long, cold ten minutes before we found the glasses about five feet from the accident scene. They were too full of snow to wear. She had to make her way home half blind in the moonlight. It was a quiet trip home.
Making it home safe and sound we were a bit wiser on the ways of the full moon.
Have you heard joke about the Norwegian that loved his wife so much, he almost told her. Now you know why.
Romance in a full moon can be just too risky.