<p>At this late and magical hour, I decided to go out for a walk - something I used to do quite often when the moon was full and shining bright.&nbsp;&nbsp;I would go out without a lantern, my eyes easily adjusting to see the way ahead and much more besides.</p> <p>There was a rustling in the bushes as I walked past the house, a creature scuttling to a safer place.&nbsp;&nbsp;Then a flutter of wings sounded from the tree branches.</p> <p>Turning back to look at the house, I can see the indoor warmth through the windows.&nbsp;&nbsp;The twinkling of the small lights&nbsp;that frame the window, echo the silent stars above, and the faint sound of music drifts through the still frosty air.</p> <p>I continue my walk and as the music fades a flock of geese replace the choral tones with their honking sounds above and then flap away into the darkness.</p> <p>As I follow the winding road I wonder why I haven’t done this midnight walk more often in recent years.</p> <p>The burn is flowing steadily, cutting through the ancient land and rocks, carving its peaty path to the sea.</p> <p>The incandescent moon shines full in the dark sky casting a bright light across the moorland. I can pick out objects, buildings and grasses in the night silence and&nbsp;tree branches and hills against the horizon.&nbsp;&nbsp;The outline of the castle stands tall against the wide open sea and landscape, its shape defined by the blue glow;&nbsp;&nbsp;and the waves reflect a momentary sparkle of silver white as they gently rolled into the shore.&nbsp;&nbsp;And if I look out toward the sea, even in the darkness I can make out the moving lights of ships passing on the horizon.&nbsp;&nbsp;The inkiness of the ocean merges with the headland, which merges with the large expanse of sky, hardly any distinction can be made between one and the other, &nbsp;and therein sits a smattering of house lights - or are they stars?</p> <p>These days are at their shortest, the nights long.</p> <p>As the moon gradually waxes, the stars are still strongly visible in the dark sky.</p> <p>The earth continues its usual rhythms and the world waits with anticipation. With hope. In stillness. Something is different. I stop in the sand on the beach and stand motionless for a time, awed by the silence and beauty and lulled by the incoming tide, the waves gently lapping the shore.</p> <p>I look up to see the stars, outshone by the moonlight, but there nonetheless. There is Orion … and the Big Dipper, or the 'Plough’ as the call it here in the UK.</p> <p>'Twas in the moon of wintertime… '</p> <p>The lines from a song I learned in school back in Canada called ‘The Huron Carol’ comes to my mind. &nbsp;I know we are all emerging from this past festive season, but looking back, it remains one of my favourite Christmas hymns…</p> <p><br></p> <p>'Twas in the moon of winter-time</p> <p>When all the birds had fled,</p> <p>That mighty&nbsp;<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gitchi_Manitou" target="_blank"><u>Gitchi Manitou</u></a></p> <p>Sent angel choirs instead;</p> <p>Before their light the stars grew dim,</p> <p>And wandering hunters heard the hymn:</p> <p>"Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,</p> <p>In excelsis gloria."</p> <p><br></p> <p>It goes on, but I cannot remember all the words now.</p> <p>It is the oldest Canadian Christmas hymn, written in around 1642 by Jean de Brébeuf, a Jesuit missionary at Sainte-Marie among the Hurons in Canada.</p> <p>Brébeuf wrote the lyrics in the native language of the Huron/Wendat people; the song's original Huron title is "Jesous Ahatonhia". The song's melody is based on a traditional French folk song, "Une Jeune Pucelle". The well-known English lyrics were written in 1926 by Jesse Edgar Middleton .</p> <p>As the song continues...</p> <p><br></p> <p><br></p> <p>www.moniquesliedrecht.com</p>