A full moon. I’m up to the church on the hill to film spiders.
Faint murmuring of music quietly echoes around the gravestones.
When I slip inside the ruined church a sad solo cello is quietly groaning. I can’t see where it’s coming from.
Looming from out of the shadows is a figure on the floor. Dead silent, and still. A body left unattended, awaiting burial? Gulp.
The solitary cello sounds like it’s reverberating from the ground up, whispering and whining from within the stones.
I’m about to be spooked when the cello loudly lurches out into an upswell of swollen strings.
The corpse in the corner suddenly moves its leg.
It’s a middle-aged man laid out on the ground. In this dark ruined church. On his own. Looking up to the full moon shrouded in clouds.
Listening to John Taveners Protecting Veil.
Probably have an epiphany.
Until I turned up.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet
Full Moon seen from Haze’s back Garden last Friday night.
Zooming right up with new Lumix camera.
No spots on this camera.
But there is a man in the moon.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet.
Full Harvest Moon seen through the bedroom window.
It was 5 a.m.
The world fast asleep. And snoring.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet
Haven’t made one of these moon vids for a while (last one was 5 months ago, beginning of August) I didn’t want to do a repeat of vids I’ve done before. But this December moon has been playing hide and seek inside all the dark clouds raining on us this month.
And this moon will be full on Xmas day. That hasn’t happened for 38 years (1977) and won’t happen again for another 19 years (2034) So there might be another vid coming up very soon!
Vid: Ian Nisbet
Late summer woods, blackberries unripened.
Tinged leaves curled against the heat of a Saturday bake.
N’ westerly breezes breathe cool evening out onto the tired landscape of August hedgerows.
Seedpods, black, already scattering messages for next Spring’s busy schedule.
Crunch…snap…. pop pop!
Snowy bunched cow parsley, laced and bondaged
wink seduction to passers by.
Brittled by hot sun and winds out of season, tall grasses lie strewn, snapped in a fervour of summer’s abundance.
Would the massing clouds race us to the clifftop?
Our upward saunter through this winding woodpath, past stunted oaks
draped and dripping in shadow cloaks
led us out onto a huge sky.
Always a shock after enclosure.
A sky that brought an intake of breath, where sea and sky, were belting out brilliance!
Sea, a solid expanse of granite blue – and then – we saw – the sudden appearance of the Moon
wearing surprise eyebrows
fast poking her head up over the straight-ruled horizon.
She flamed with the fires of that searing setting sun!
We snapped and clicked, caught her laughing face face in our hands!
Rise, and shine, she did; spitting out light across the wide Bay, rolling out a red carpet
from ship to shore.
With evening drifting by.
Bats swooped,zipped and played dimpsey tricks with our eyes.
The long lane down, dark down beneath blackened trees shapes.
Papermoths dazzled by our torches, ziggzagged through the dense undergrowth
of nettle, sorrel, pink sweet mallow, tangled with knots of bindweed.
Moonlight, torchlight, exchanged with sealight and starlight on a midnight stage.
Giving us a grand theatre of possibilities
– as we lay on the wet sand.
– written by Hazel Brown
Just as we got onto the top of The Downs we saw this (writes Ian)
Moon tip-toeing out of the edge of the sea.
It was supposedly a ‘blue moon’. Only it was kind of pink.
We sat on that bench drinking tea, eating kitkats; watching as the descending dark turned this blue-pink moon into ascending white.
The moon would be shimmering in sea down at Babbacombe. Let’s go.
On the walk down, Haze torched jittery night moths into my clumsy camera.
Arriving on the more-or-less deserted foreshore: it was midnight.
A moonlit midnight! All sorts of wonderful things can happen then. Oh yes. They can (They did)
Minxy Mermaids cum out to play!
Video: Ian Nisbet
The steep walk back up through the dark woods was a stroll.
We were powered by moonbeams!
We were walking above the bay at Babbacombe tonight (writes Ian)
Just as it was getting ‘dimpsy’ several pipistrelle bats came out to play, darting and diving around our heads.
I tried filming them flying across the moon. But the sky was too dark in that direction.
‘It’s magical!’ exclaims Haze. And she was right. It was.
(Video: Ian Nisbet)