Last night, the walk home reminded me of that poem, "The Highwayman" by ...errrr...whatispickle...... I will look it up... Alfred Noyes. ( Funny, that name Alfred has come up three times in two days. Hmmm). So, where was I? Yes, the moon, the moon was indeed a ghostly galleon, albeit, there was no moor, just your typical neighbourhood streets.
THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
I do love using indigo for moonlight paintings. It has just the right amount of mood without dominating the painting with darkness.