The neighborhood dogs are howling into the night, echoing each other without a pause, as I walk over the freshly cut grass of the lawn, past the paved road, and climb up the wooden steps to the treehouse. My husband and several of our friends are sitting on the pier, listening to island jams, sipping on beers, and nibbling on chips being passed around to share. I set my camera up on my mini tripod, attaching it to my massive Sigma 105mm f/1.4 fixed lens. I look down at my watch and it’s a little past 9pm. The moon would be rising soon. I rest the tripod on the thick teak wood rail of the treehouse and fiddle with the camera’s manual mode when I see a razor thin orange outline in the horizon. The moon slowly peeked out from the imaginary line in the sky and I snap away silently while the muffled conversation dims. Everyone gazed at this wondrous muted yellow orange orb grow bright and high in the sky, interrupted by the occasional cloud rolling through. The cool ocean breeze gives me goosebumps and I wrap my linen button-up a little tighter for warmth.