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Photography: Worm Moon

As I carefully walk toward the rippling water my shoes sink in the soft mud. You tell me to listen to what the frogs are saying. I try, but I don’t know how to be still enough. A small patch of yellow flowers grows near the shore and I struggle to get closer to them. What are they saying? The Worm Moon bursts out from behind the clouds shining a spotlight across the water. Everything seems to be calling out. I swallow my words and listen harder.

“The gold tree is blue,
The singer has pulled his cloak over his head.
The moon is in the folds of the cloak.”
—Wallace Stevens

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For my third attempt at full moon photography, I visited Folsom Lake at sunset. It felt magical and different. My daughter drew a moth in the sand. Spring is here.

Let me know if you like these and if you have a favorite. These photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW.

48 thoughts on “Photography: Worm Moon”

  12. There’s a saying, “may you learn from your failings,” but I’d restate, “you only learn when you fail.” Success teaches nothing. Maybe you’ll be surprised what touched me most in what you’ve kindly presented here.

    Yes, many of your moons are beautiful, but where I landed is…

    Your introductory text. To fail is no failing at all. And when shared it carves a path through the forest for all of us. Generously beautiful. I call your words poetic, exactly as they lay beneath your worm moon. I love this poem whether made to be a poem, or not.

    Second, who teaches us the most? We are the worm that learns to fly. So I adore the hand of human in the world. Not for intrinsic merit but because it is kin to me. Thus the drawing in the sand, the moth-like butter & fly, is what touches me with meaning most personally meaningful.

    Good job, both of you.

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    • Words are really my first love so it brings me great joy to find mine touched you. I tried to capture the feeling of standing there, of what it was like to hear those frogs and wonder at why I can’t be still enough to really listen. I’m glad you found it to be a poem, because it is. It is because I say it is, as someone wise once told me.

      I’m happy you liked my daughter’s moth as well. She drew about a dozen or so all over the beach in various sizes. I like to think what will happen later, when someone stumbles across them. Will they try to find them all? Will seeing a moth reminding them to look for the light? Or maybe the wind will simply wipe it away without a trace. It’s the possibilities which bring me such joy.

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    • Thank you! Yes, I’m so blessed to have evenings like this with her. Me, silently clicking away with my camera and trying to find those calling frogs. Her, drawing moths across the sand with sticks. It was really dark when we walked back and we stumbled upon two geese who scared us by leaping up so near we felt the rush of their wings.

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