-k. d. lang
When this year's Perseid meteor
shower was at its peak, my son Rob and I drove to the countryside,
away from the lights of the city. Atop a blanket thrown onto his car,
we lay on our backs, scanning the heavens. It reminded me of going to
a drive-in theater in the days of my youth, but no outdoor screen
ever compared to the vast canvas we were viewing. The Milky Way we
were enjoying didn't come from the snack bar.
Unlike your typical B-movie fare,
there wasn't a lot of action. The only thing resembling drama was
when the odd motorist's headlights found us and wondered why two guys
were parked on the shoulder looking at the sky. But our patience was
rewarded with three bright meteors and a bonus glimpse of the
International Space Station when we were alerted via text message
that it was coming into view. Another memory came with it, from about
40 years ago, of a night when my father and I watched the skies over
our farm to see Skylab orbiting overhead.
The Perseids aside, this summer
has been an amazing one to look at the skies, through fair weather or
foul. We've seen double rainbows, incredible lightning shows, and
hazy sunsets dimmed by Canadian wildfires. When my wife and I take
our regular evening walks, the setting sun always seems to create a
new shade of pink, purple or orange shining brightly as we look down
the railroad tracks to see the western horizon. And the cloud
formations we saw during a stormy evening trip to central Illinois
were like something out of a Hubble Telescope photo.
Some Wisconsinites have even been
fortunate enough to see the Aurora Borealis this year. I have only
seen the Aurora once, but like a major historical event, I will never
forget where I was when it happened. Unfortunately, it was in the
days before smartphones so I couldn't capture the moment, but the
mental picture I took remains clear and unpixelated.
My renewed appreciation for the
cosmos may have been spurred several years ago when my son and I
camped with the Boy Scouts in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of New
Mexico. In the middle of our first night, I ventured out of our tent
to answer nature's call. The number of stars in that crystal clear
sky, far from any hint of light pollution, absolutely floored me. It
was easy to believe Carl Sagan's assertion that there were billions
and billions. After a few moments of standing and staring in
amazement, it finally occurred to me that I had better get about my
business before a bear or cougar spoiled my stargazing.
That same trip also treated me to the most wondrous
sunrise I ever witnessed. Our guide had us get up early and hike to
the top of a mesa, where eight of us silently watched the day begin
as the miles and miles of New Mexico before us emerged from darkness.
I am not ashamed to admit that the beauty of it made me weep.
Funny how in a world filled with
just about any amazing thing you can think of, sometimes the simplest
pleasures are the most satisfying. We look at our computer screens,
we look at our televisions, we look down at our phones. Too often, we
forget to look up and see the wonders above us.
2 comments:
Out here in the boonies of the Storr's Lake area, (although not quite NM!) we often grab a beer and sit on the sand hill in our pasture at night. Our donkey, Vin Diesel comes and breathes on our heads and nudges for a bit of beer, as we let the heavens fill our souls. We're all made of universe dust. It feels like coming home every time you let it in your heart. hugs, linda
I'm glad it's just universe dust and not gravel pit dust. :)
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