The November picture in my Enchanted Wildlife Calendar is of a badger moving through a meadow of grasses, silvered by the small, round, grey-white moon in the background, climbing skywards. The moon for real, this November, is startlingly near. A couple of evenings ago, driving home and eastwards along a wide street, the moon was rising straight ahead of me, so close, it could have been coming up from no more than a couple of miles away, say, even the Holloway Road. Huge, though not quite full, it was gazing at me, looking askance; you could see nose, eyes, mouth. I distinctly felt I was being watched, with some suspicion? It’ll be full in a day or so, but while it is still waxing, it has the profile of a face just slightly turned away, like the best portraits. When it is full, we will be subjected to its full glare, more friendly than fearsome.
Once sky-high, a few hours later, it shone out brilliant bright white in the clear, cold sky. And distant, heading out to space, no longer interested in us, looking for other fascinating creatures to watch. But on my journey it was a nearer, almost sinister, presence, grey-white.
Askance: what an interesting word. Does it describe anything other than a look?