Roger Moroney never tires of the majesty of the moon. Photo / NZME
I like the cut of a full moon's jib.
It has an outstanding appearance and moves quietly and stately across the night sky.
And it is a thing unfazed by the happenings and occurrences upon that blue planet nearby which sort of claims ownership of it.
It carries on regardless, untouched (except for the odd falling asteroid) and unaffected by droughts, floods, wars and pandemics.
Ahh, the dear old moon simply shines…thanks to the sun. Over the past few nights it has been at its fulsome best, drawing my attention when I saunter into the not-so-darkness.
I am fascinated by the light power it has to allow me to cast a shadow upon the ground…at 9.36pm.
One of our children in their young years once asked if the moon was "burning" because it was so, so bright one night.
"Oh no," I replied haughtily (trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about).
"It is lit by the distant sun."
She looked bewildered.
"The sun lit it?
"Has it got a fuse?"
I replied that tea was probably ready and we should go inside.
During one of my nightly bedtime stories for the kids I embarked on a tale about the very first person in our world to have seen, and therefore discovered, the moon.
"This skywatching advocate had the name of Ivan Carl Demoon…IC Demoon for short", I added with a chuckle.
The only response was from the eldest lass, who looked at her sister, rolled her eyes and said "I think dad may have started early on the drinky-poos today."
The moon.
In quarters and halves and three-quarters, it is a wonderful piece of celestial well-lit art.
But oh, the FULL moon.
It's an inspirational thing.
There are so many songs about the moon, and so many films where when the full moon emerges so too do vampires and zombies and fascinated old gits like me who wander outside to just stand and silently look at it.
Although I do emit the occasional quiet "wow" because I never tire of its majesty.
And I don't have to pay any tax to have it on display.
I have seen the bright white moons and the startling golden ones…and ones with that rare red tinge.
While it looked full and complete at 8.01pm last Monday it was, according to the astronomical site my wife looked up, only 99.6 per cent full.
It would be completely full at 11.45am on the Tuesday…11.45 in the morning.
And then it would start to shed that weight of light and slim down and briefly hibernate…until October 7, when the "new moon" emerges again.
Its life fascinates me, as does its endurance. For we are watching and wondering about a celestial globe which has been watched by dinosaurs, neanderthals, the chaps who built the pyramids and wannabe vampires…and it would have hardly changed appearance.
What a hell of a guarantee it must have come with.
Like the two moons Mars has orbiting it, while Saturn and Jupiter have got about 60 of the things…and they all have names.
As does ours…Māori call it Marama.
And so it came to pass (at this point you may want to turn the page, as I suspect you sense something dodgy is set to appear…unlike the dear moon) that one of the kids had to ask the obvious.
"Daddy…how many moons does Uranus have?"
I replied that it was well and truly time to put the light out and get to sleep, although I had to add "I'll whip outside and take a look."
Footnote: I found out later it has 27 moons…no wonder I found sleep uncomfortable.