Small boats dotted the lake, glowing softly in the dark.

If you talk to me and the husband about the full moon viewing, we’ll have two different opinions. He was absolutely bored to tears by the poetry and story readings. He thought the musicians were untalented hacks. And his biggest complaint — the event ended an hour before you could even see the moon from within the garden!

It’s been a while since I headed for any event thinking, “oh boy, now I’m REALLY going to have fun.” Instead, my chief question is “can I photograph it without getting arrested?” Moon, schmoon; I had a couple dozen photos of the moon taken from my own backyard. I was there last night to take photos of fire without endangering my own property.

In that sense, I was in my element. The garden paths were peppered with white paper bag lanterns, a little tealight in each one, and I would watch them carefully as I walked around, in case something suddenly burst into flame and gave me a really good photo opportunity. Around 9, they finally released the boats, eliciting a muttered “finally!” from the husband, and a chorus of clicks and flashes from the groups of photographers surrounding each fleet of boats.

Poetry readings? Never heard it — I was busy making circuits around the garden in the growing dusk. Music? Sounded like every other piece of koto and flute accompaniment I’ve ever heard. I and the other photographers were kept honest by the Tripod Nazi — a woman who insisted it was not enough that I had the legs of my tripod taped together: the other two legs definitely had to be off the ground. Party pooper.

Did I have a good time? Just wait til you see my photos!