Letters from Josh

Shine On, Harvest Moon

Letters From Josh

9/12/22 Vol. 99

Howdy, folks! How about that Harvest Moon?! Did you see it Friday evening? It loomed large here in Lynchburg, rising over the soccer fields by the James river. Glowing a golden yellow wheat color, she smiled down on the park. Looking up, I smiled back. It was time.

Aiming the 1960’s telescope at Luna, I reveled in the view. Ancient lava flows, once mistaken for seas by hopeful earthbound astronomers, stretched out in the eyepiece. Craters, many of them scars of the “late heavy bombardment” (look it up!) , dotted the surface, dents big enough to cradle entire metropolitan areas.

Then, I waited. Gradually, people drifted by. “Is that a telescope?” they’d ask. “Sure is! Wanna see the Harvest Moon?” The biggest challenge with “Sidewalk astronomy” is to not alarm people. The evening two cups of coffee probably didn’t help with a calm attitude, but by Jove, there were things to observe, and conversations to have!

For the stranger out on a stroll, stopping to look is a leap of faith soon rewarded. They lean into the eyepiece, move around a little, and are suddenly struck with the lunar landscape.

“Wow, honey, come look at this...!”

Then I show them Saturn. The squeals, the freak outs, the occasional profanity...They jump around, and I jump around, and everyone wrings their hands delightedly. “Isn’t that the coolest?” Jaded aunts, wiggly kids, somber pensioners, tipsy college students, thoughtful youths all gather, and marvel.

Suddenly, a random patch of concrete is turned into a Lunar appreciation society, the Saturn fan club, and a pop-up think tank. “I’m curious about how the ancients viewed time” starts an artistic-looking fellow. “We’re awfully linear.” The “big thoughts” are a natural topic around the telescope as is a natural delight. A tiny girl wants to see a star, and points out one that I miss. “How about that one? Mommy, mommy, I see it!” Mommy leans over and looks. “That’s very nice, dear.” Friends swing by with pizza, and the conversation drifts from inside jokes to dream interpretation. The clouds drift by, and Jupiter blazes in the southeast. “Yo, I see the stripes on it!” exclaims a buddy, jumping back from the telescope. “RIGHT?”

Leon Redbone’s haunting mumbled Harvest Moon played softly on the car stereo as

I wound my way out of town, past the closed antique shops, silent warehouses, and sleeping houses. “Shine on, shine on Harvest Moon...” Overhead, she did just that, with a mysterious golden yellow wheat smile.

- Josh

The telescope view at low power