I didn’t think we’d be able to see it through the storm that’s been drenching the Bay Area. But at 11 the storm abated, and the clouds thinned. The moon flitted like a shy bird behind the blue-white skeins of stratus.

We sat in the backyard with the damp wind tugging at our hair, and watched the bright silver disk get eaten by the shadow of the earth. She turned dusky orange as scraps of clouds blew across her face. Wintery Orion and Gemini, growing more brilliant as the moon dulled, stood sentinel around her, Orion with his head towards her, and the twins, Castor and Pollux, facing away. She seemed well guarded in her moment of weakness.

A plane flew between the moon and a cloud, and the jet’s shadow was projected across the scrim of cloud, looking like a giant child’s toy.

Then the storm returned, and clouds hid the moon’s face as she regained her silvery self. Tonight she’ll rise at about 5:30, unencumbered by our shadow.

Happy Solstice.