Purdy

Last night while stopped at a traffic light, we were treated to the most amazing view of the (almost) full moon shining through the leafless forest in front of us. It was so beautiful, misty and eerie that it took my breath away (once I mentally blocked out the power lines in front of the scene). It rivaled any horror movie poster or book or album cover I had ever seen. It was absolute perfection.

I live for those little doses of real-life perfection. They're always so jarring, and remind me that the world really is a magical place--like finding that one apple in the bin that's so perfectly round and unblemished that you actually feel guilty biting into it later. Or the impossibly red berries that used to grow on the tree in front of our apartment in Madison. Fluorescent doesn't do them justice, they were practically radioactive. Or, years ago, the Indian boy I passed on the street in DC who was so eye-gougingly gorgeous I had a hard time convincing myself he wasn't Krishna incarnate.

These eyegasms as I like to call them are few and far between in winter, so last night's was particularly welcome and much needed. A girl can only take so much grey before her peepers start to atrophy. I can only hope the spring brings eyegasms in abundance.