Oh, and howling cats. Monday evening was a touch creepy.
My chorus is doing a run-through of the Mozart Requiem in order to see who knows how much, where (new) trouble spots might be, and to get everyone used to singing from the same edition, since not all of us have used this particular publisher’s edition. It’s not a “serious” note-by-note work through, but more of a refresher so we can all get a sense of where we are and what we need to woodshed on our own before next fall.
By popular demand we finished the rehearsal by repeating the sequence that concludes with the Lachrymosa. This includes the Dies Irae. (The basses enjoy sounding grim and scary. They enjoy it a wee bit too enthusiastically for my comfort.)
So, we wrapped up just after sunset and scattered to our respective abodes. I drove home, checked the Day Job e-mail, and got ready to flop into bed. However, I glanced out the window and beheld a dark red moon. This is . . . not the normal color for said orb.*
I went to a different window (as one does) and looked again. A very creepy red moon remained caught in the still-bare branches of the tree. I informed Mom and Dad Red that there appeared to be a bad moon rising. They were rather impressed by the color.
As I got ready for bed, I heard howls. OK, this is where my imagination went into overdrive. 1) Singing about the Day of Wrath and Judgement, 2) with a red moon in the sky and 3) howls and wails greeting the moon. I wasn’t quite to the “on my knees reciting the mea culpa, Kyrie, and three acts of contrition” stage, nor was I diving for my silver knife and the garlic jar, but I was Not Happy.
The howling changed to a yowl, followed by a different feline yowling back. It was two cats disputed right-of-way on the fence. That’s normal. Very normal. I started to relax. When I looked at the moon again, it had faded to a tan-cream. I calmed down, told my imagination to go jump in the lake, and called it a night.
*A forest and range fire in New Mexico sent smoke over us, which tinted the moon. The rational part of my brain knew this. The brain stem and very, very old part of my brain completely ignored the rational bit.