effects of a flower moon

I read in the paper today that Native Americans call the new moon in May, flower moon. I like the idea of connecting the moon's emergence to the image of a flower opening. The first (probably only) bloom from our night-blooming cerus came and went already but it's supposed to bloom around this time of year--an effect of the full moon.

My sleep pattern also was affected by the light--I could not get to sleep last night and once I did, my leg woke me up twice after a few hours. I could not sleep at all on my back, so my left side was the only option, but the weight of the boot on the right makes my left knee ache. So it goes.
While I lay awake, I went back to a year ago when we were scurrying around to find Mom a place to move to as her care exceeded what assisted living could do for her. I think I have buried my feelings about those weeks deep into my subconscious. Sometimes I think of her, but rarely. It's as if she had left me long before she died in August.

I see my spring flowers are dying--the emerging sun is getting too hot for violets and pansies. I will need to plant some sustainable summer flowers this weekend. Watching flowers die is a sad sight. They tighten up into little dry buds, fall over the edge of the pots, almost like the heads of Henry VIII's victims were laid out for their beheadings (reference to "The Tudors" here). The saguaro blossoms, pearly white and atop the ends of cactus' arms, are the last to go before 100 degrees becomes our norm. As that happens, nighttime shifts to the best time to be outside, to watch the stars poke through the dark sky and gaze at the moon rising in the southeastern sky.

Melancholia is emerging as I write--more than werewolfs respond to a full moon. Something about the full face of silver draws tides and a sense of fullness but also deep energy that stirs up dark spirits. I need to rechallenge that mood into creative writing and/or reading. Images of Venice, Italy (from a book I am reading, no doubt) and deep waters with mysteries of death. I can see tonight's moon sending rays of light over golden bridges and villas teetering on wood foundations, slowly sinking into the bay.