No Sun - No (Super)Moon

It is November. What did we expect? 

I was hopeful, I even positioned myself in the light unpolluted wilds of Marles Stud near Epping at 5:00 pm. The power of positive thinking let me down this time. :( An impenetrable blanket of cloud was enveloping Essex.

Luckily Jazzy and I had made a foray earlier in the day in the rain. I got a darling goldcrest but the light was too poor for definition. My pic is of a medlar bush which grows on the banks of our neighbour's lake. I was tempted to connect mooning and dogs' bottoms - one of the names for these fruits. Until I found this. "I scarce know her, for the beauty of her cheek hath, like the moon, suffered strange eclipses since I beheld it: women are like medlars, no sooner ripe but rotten." A rather unkind observation from Thomas Dekker in his play The Honest Whore. He's referring to the fact that medlars aren't eaten until they are bletted - either frosted or kept until the fruit is discoloured and starting to rot.

But wait. I checked the sky before Jazzy and I settled down to watch University Challenge. There was the supermoon in all its glory looking very like any other full moon at this time of the evening. Sad that I haven't been able to anchor it to terra firma. :( (Extras)