By Nick Stamatakis
Last Saturday night, Babylon Marina, almost in the centre of the north coast of the Great South Bay on Long Island, was bathed in a spectacle of copper and gold as August’s blood moon rose over the bay. The shimmering lunar reflection stretched across the calm water like a molten pathway, casting a spell over all who gathered along the shore.
The term blood moon is often linked to a total lunar eclipse, when Earth’s atmosphere scatters light and leaves the moon glowing in deep red. But in late summer, atmospheric haze and the moon’s low position on the horizon can create the same fiery hue—an effect tied to the August Sturgeon Moon, named by Native American and European traditions for the season’s bountiful catch.
Throughout history, crimson moons have stirred both awe and superstition—seen as omens of change or symbols of harvest abundance. On this warm August evening in Babylon, the glow needed no myth to work its magic. For a few quiet hours, the marina became a place outside of time, where nature’s beauty spoke louder than words.
