Through the window we see a moon swimming through clouds.
One night, in his white oxfords, with the pipe glowing, he walked me home along a path through the woods, under a moon, no doubt, with the dark lake water lapping the shore.
On the shore of the lake was a beautiful old pine, and I suddenly imagined a moon shining through it's silhouette.
Occasionally a cobbled square can be glimpsed, a placard, a shop window, a brief stretch of skyline through the window of a moon-gazing bluestocking.
Then we left the car and walked through a round steel "moon gate" in an old wall, skirted spaghetti-like bundles of rebar, and passed a parking lot in which a large copper model of the tower stood, left over from a seismic test conducted at the request of Chinese officials, who were particularly unnerved by the overhang.
It is a clever, effective show whose most memorable moments — from Tytania slashing her way through the moon to a ghostly, chalk-drawn outline of a house — are as striking and disquieting as Britten's music.
As I listened to the frogs in the garden below and caught a glimpse of a new moon through the larch trees, it was easy to understand why, at 53, Monet eagerly gave up the suburbs of Paris for this Norman village.
There is nothing more special than spending the day wandering through a boulder-strewn, moon-like landscape in search of mythical-looking creatures, then relaxing around a fire at night under the African sky.
The century-old chestnut rose, Rosa roxburghii, whose seedpods resemble a chestnut burr, is only one of the heirlooms in the rose garden, entered through an exquisite rock moon gate built by Mr. DeWolf.
