This Labor Day weekend was the first I’d had off – really actually had to myself – for the first time since I was probably 4 years old. I’ve lived my life by the school year calendar, the first chilly morning hints of fall ushering in another year of backpacks, textbooks and new pairs of jeans. For all the years I worked in higher education, students returned to campus on that last unofficial weekend of summer, and my presence was always needed in some capacity or another.
This year, we got to finally enjoy our Labor Day weekend together. We went to the Finger Lakes region of New York, to watch our friends Ben and Cait get married. We were there for the whole weekend, a lakeside cabin with our own dock.
Despite the long drive, we felt ourselves growing calm and relaxed the closer we got, our stresses rolling away with the hillside country-scapes as we drove further into rural upstate New York – our worries and anxieties caught somewhere in the cornfields off route 5.
There was the goat farm and that amazing herbed chevre and feta. We met the goats that provided the milk for the very cheese we were eating. There was the cidery, whose fizzy concoctions gave my cheeks a rosy glow. There were wines made from baco noir grapes, with its smoky, almost pickled aromas and the gewurztraminer that tasted like apricot nectar. There were bites of chocolate fudge followed by sips of pinot noir. And there were cheese curds: squeaky chewy, salty cheese curds. We ate well that weekend.
The days were lazy, hunting for wineries or lounging in the lake, wearing our flip flops so as not to slice open our feet from the relentless zebra mussels.
And in the evenings: the moon. Her round face shining brightly down on us, gracing us with her second full face in a month.
On our second night there, we ate dinner with newish friends at our cabin, our meal consisting of ingredients bought within 10 miles of where we were staying. Over my husband’s shoulder, I saw brightness peeking through the trees, as though someone had turned on a spotlight through the cornflower twilight. Low and glowing, we stood and watched as the full moon rose over the trees, hanging like a white hole punched in the darkening sky.
As we walked down to the main lakehouse, we marveled at how bright it was outside, the moon casting its gaze to the water, a hovering swarm of light there on the waves. As the moon hung low in the inky sky, the moonlight cut a path along the lake surface like a chasm of silvery gold.
On our first night there, I ducked out to the second dock, about 50 yards from the dock by the lakehouse. I walked to the edge of this dock, the whisper of waves at the bank punctuated by crickets and bursts of laughter and conversation from the lakehouse. There, I carefully slipped off my sandals.
I turned to face the moon, now perched high in the night sky, stars desperately trying to peer through a thin veil of haze. I raised my hands to my heart, pressing my palms together. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, feeling the evening light on my face. I reached my arms up over my head and plunged into a swan dive on the exhale, moving my body into a series of moon salutations. As I returned to mountain pose, bringing my hands back to my heart, palms pressed together, I smiled before opening my eyes.
Everything in that moment felt right.
On the second night, when most of the wedding party was staying at the inn where the wedding took place, we pretty much had the lakehouse to ourselves. That evening, after we were sure most everyone else had gone to bed, we headed back to the lakehouse dock. There, I slipped out of my pajamas. Clad only in flip flops, I carefully waded out into the moonlight water as Larry sat on the dock.
The water was cool at first but warmed quickly as I swam out further. There was no haze tonight and the surreal brightness of the evening felt like some inverted daylight out there on the lake. After a half hour or so, I made my way back to the shore, stepping out of the water, bathed only in moonlight, like some mystical creature returning to the woods.
At the wedding, I found myself overcome with such emotion, my heart nearly bursting from joy, their love as thick and heady like honeysuckles or lilies. They made vows to each other, then turned to face their families who stood and made vows to support them. Then we, their friends – all of the guests, stood to face them as we as community vowed to love and support them. She read Billy Collins to him while he recited the Buddha.
We danced. And danced. And danced.
Drunk to the point of abandon but not regret, the world like cake batter: sweet, thick and slow-moving – delicious.
As the shuttle drove us back to the cabins, that long dark ride through rural nowhere, the moon always there like a bright pushpin in a sea of blackness, casting long shadows from the trees.
We left that beautiful region of New York and I felt like my heart was being pulled away from that place as we drove out of town. “I could live here for a whole summer and do nothing but write,” I told Larry. “Drink nothing but those delicious wines, eat that cheese – have a full belly and a happy heart.”
“That would be kind of hard to do with a baby,” he replied. And just as our worries had been left along the route in, we picked them up one by one on the ride back. We drove back home through valleys, voluptuous hills and mountains lining the highway like slumbering giantesses: reclining bodhisattvas made of earth, draped in verdant robes of black gum, possomwood and ash.
All those hours and miles home, I carried the blue moon in my heart.
Every time I closed my eyes, I could see her shining brightly, smiling back at me.
“I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and – somehow – the wine.”
– from Billy Collins’ Litany
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This post is part of Perfect Moment Mondays at Write Mind, Open Heart. Check out all the other Perfect Moments over at Lori’s place and add your own.
Em says
Whoa…I just drank this post right up. Loved every word.
“a hovering swarm of light there on the waves”
“like cake batter: sweet, thick, slow moving – delicious”
“through the cornflower twilight”
Your writing is wonderful. And also – those first few paragraphs left me really hungry. (-:
Turia says
Here from the Creme. What a beautiful post. I’m also someone tied to the school calendar, so I can appreciate just how special a Labour Day weekend would be. (I am also envious of all that amazing food and drink- it sounds so amazing.)
T.
Elizabeth says
Thank you for writing and sharing this…. That corner of the world has a special place in my heart. Go Team Zoll!!!
JustHeather says
Powerful imagery. It reminds me of times I’ve been at a lake or even more-so the times at the ocean and beach at night. I love the moon and the light it casts. Thanks for sharing this beautiful experience.
dspence says
Those perfect moments – when everything seems right, happy, and full – are the moments that keep you going. Keep you sane. Keep you in love with life and each other. Good for you for carrying the moon back with you.
Rebekah says
I just cried reading this. Beautifully written. We spent every summer of my child hood in a cabin on a lake in the Adirondacks and your post reminded me so much of that. There is something about that area of New York that really does strip you of stress and worry.
Amy says
What a beautiful post. I just loved the imagery. I felt like I was there with you and felt like I could taste the delicious wine and cheese. My favorite part was the description of leaving your troubles along the road. One could feel your peace. Just beautiful!
luna says
such a gorgeous post, keiko. magnificent vivid imagery. lovely, and I agree with lori, rather auspicious! I especially love how you conveyed leaving it all behind, from the drive there to a mid night swim in the buff.
we were married under a blue moon too, btw.
Kathy says
Wow Keiko. What an awesome post and experience for you to have. I felt like I was right there with you –. I got chills, tears and big smiles on my face as I read your words. Thank you for sharing your many perfect moments from this past weekend. I can appreciate how it feels to get to escape like that every once in a blue moon and then have/get to return to reality. I hope and pray that the reality you have returned to will bring you all that you wish for and dream of. Sending lots of positive thoughts and prayers your way during this cycle which I hope will lead to the ultimate perfect moment for you! xoxo
Lori Lavender Luz says
It sounds like everything came together so magnificently for your friends, their wedding, and your magical cycle. I love that you did moon salutations! Seems very auspicious to me.
Don’t you just love it in those moments when your heart wants to burst open?
Mel says
I love that imagery of leaving all your troubles on the side of the road, not dismissing them, but leaving them behind for a bit until you have time to pick them back up. It sounds (besides the crickets) like a gorgeous weekend.
Cristy says
This post takes me back to childhood memories of being at the lake. There were nights when the moon was so full, combined with the summer heat, that it was magical. Such a feeling of peace.
I hope that one day you get your wish of spending a year writing. In the meantime, may that blue moon be your guiding light.
Natalie says
I’m in misty eyed with nostalgia. How beautifully you have captured the essence of “home” for me. Let’s buy a cabin on Cayuga lake and we can be crazy writer ladies there together!
Keiko says
Natalie, I would buy a cabin on Cayuga Lake in a HEARTBEAT with you. Summer writing retreats? Wine tastings and cheese-making? YES PLEASE.
Jen says
Keiko, you have such a beautiful way with words. I love weekends like this one, when the world around you seemed to stop moving and you can be truly present where you are. Thanks for sharing!
No Baby Ruth says
Wow, what a beautiful post. There is something so amazingly powerful about the moon, especially at its highest peak of fullness, ripe and bright and shining with strength and power. I’m glad that you were able to enjoy in such an intimate and renewing way.
I am hopeful for you and your DE cycle.