Irene Kosturakis, 58, has blonde hair, spaghetti legs wrapped by salmon jeans and quick eyes. It was a cloudy night for moon watching Saturday night, but Irene showed up anyway.

Lightning bolts searched for the right moment to start pouring rain on the city of Houston, but only released light sprinkles on the grounds of the Houston Arboretum and Nature Center.

The Harvest Moon this year was supposed to be the largest it's been in the 20 years. Commemorating the event, the Arboretum invited people out to witness the coming of the harvest with frozen margaritas and Fusion tacos. The stormy weather turned the moon-gazing celebration into a waiting game.

Miniature white paper bags, pregnant with balls of clear Christmas lights, lined the path from the entrance to a meadowy swamp, where the telescopes had already been put away, in response to the weather. The crowd was made up largely of professionals from 30-60 years old, most with a twinkle of youth in their faces.

Kosturakis came to meet up with fellow practitioners of the law, Janet McClaine and Steven Vanasse. Fusion tacos, moon pies and frozen margaritas kept the conversation going. The path that became a boardwalk was speckled with moon watchers and remained dark until about 9:15. When the clouds receded, their gates allowed a timid glimpse of the Harvest Moon.

Vanasse howled in mid-dance. He has the voice of a youthful uncle, whose crazed college years you heard about at Christmas dinner — whether you wanted to or not. He recounted his adventures of being in an almost-all-Vietnamese band, he was the almost.

"There was once a time Steven knew every Asian restaurant in town," Kosturakis laughed.

The once honorary Asian giggled, while eyeing a neighboring moon pie.

"I was the butt," Vanasse delighted.

What he meant was — he was the butt of a dragon costume, the band would whip out during shows.

McClaine had a shy smile, earthy eyes and a reversed handle on the conversation.

They made for the swamp for a better view. Two others popped out of the darkness, Gwyneth Campbell and Wes Ghareeb, a lawyer and an engineer. Ghareeb, originally from Egypt, has been in the States for just a year and still hasn't been anywhere outside of Texas. Campbell was quiet most of the time, a peach-skin twentysomething with snappy spectacles framed in black.

The four chatted about Kosturakis' "Moving Forward" post-divorce party, scheduled next weekend, out on her 100-acre lot near Tomball. As 10 mosquito-ravaged legs found their way to the parking lot, the moon sat — a tiny tangerine on a black cloudy counter, serene and forgotten.