Will it ever be the same moon? Her face always seems different. My favorite moon memory: Riding a ferris wheel , I was in elementary school. I lived in a small city in West Virginia and it was our Oktoberfest. When I reached the very top and the ferris wheel slowed to a stop, I was facing a large hunter's moon --impossibly large just over the hill. It fit your description of a Bradbury burnt orange pumpkin of a moon, magical, even somewhat sinister, humbling.