The moon is between earth and sun today. Its shadow side faces us: the new moon. Are the skies clear enough to step outside or look out the window to witness the beauty and mystery of a darker sky?

A reflection from Brad Newman:

Listening to the 6 am dark. It's quiet, except for the coffee maker and the heater. In a couple of hours, the construction work will resume and so will the banging and grinding. But for now, it is quiet and dark. The silhouettes of the plants we've brought inside are beginning to emerge from the dimness, tangles and spines and lines and blobs.

It's surprising to see which ones are struggling in here. They get ignored this time of year in their usual home out on our deck, getting whipped and dripped and frozen. Now their presence is unavoidable as the sun glows up the clouds, and I have to wonder if I am too anxious about them or if they are dying. The rosemary is desiccated and crisp. Are there more yellow leaves on the jasmine today than yesterday? They've been inside too long.

My thoughts turn to a colleague. He was inside too long. He was ebullient, kind, musical, had an easy laugh that he would come off of mute during videoconferences to share. I will always think of him as a kind of Labrador puppy. Eager to please, excited by new things. He was 34 and lived alone and struggled when we all retreated to our homes to work remotely.

We all struggle to some extent in different ways, so when he mentioned he was struggling it joined the general chorus of this moment's discontent. I don't know the circumstances of his death, only the fact of it. And it hurts. Hurts that he won't be around to celebrate when we finally launch this product he helped build. Hurts that there will be no more chances to eavesdrop on his enthusiasm.

Here, in the dis-place-ment of this soon un-dark, I can hear his chuckle among the grays and greens and gurgles of the morning. And that helps a little. Waiting and being with the sadness also helps, which is as surprising as seeing which plants are going to make it through. It's hard to know what this day will bring, let alone a season like this. But I feel charged with seeing the possibilities and remembering.