Sky Conditions Update

This weekend, space weather was fortuitous for aurora borealis. I seized that opportunity.

I waited a few hours after sunset and turned off my pole light. (Most rural farms have a pole light, it’s almost a necessity. What’s interesting is that most pole lights are hardwired to photo-sensors without an “off switch”. I paid to have a switch installed. I don’t use it often but when I do it’s worth its weight in gold.)

With the light off, it was pitch black. The sky had only a tiny sliver of moon. Indeed the northern lights were happening. It wasn’t the biggest baddest display I’ve seen. The colors were washed out. But who am I to complain? All northern lights are delightful.

I have a theory that either God or nature (I sense overlap in the two) wants to help you. I’d had a hard week and needed to recharge. In retrospect, the best thing I could possibly do was park my ass in a dark yard on one of the first warm nights of the year and stare at the Universe. How convenient I was coaxed into that very situation!

I had the dog on a leash. Alas, our dog is more bonded with Mrs. Curmudgeon than me. The dog was baffled. It kept looking at me quizzically as if to say: “Why the hell are we sitting here in the dark? Have you finally cracked?”

I sat in my lawnchair sipping beer and letting stress ebb. Our barn cat showed up. First it knocked over my beer, because it’s a cat. I grabbed my auxiliary backup beer and shrugged. Then the damn beast hopped in my lap and clawed my balls, because it’s a cat. After that it settled down. My confused dog sniffed at the spilled beer. The dog definitely wondered what would cause an otherwise normal human to sit perfectly still and silent in the dark night like a brooding ape. I pet the dog to reassure it but didn’t try to explain.

It was a dark night with not a breath of wind. Too early for mosquitoes. I didn’t even see bats. The sky was pleasant. I watched the colors fade in and out and my mind left behind all those worries about plumbing and whatnot.

There’s a lot of “nature” in my immediate surroundings. I drink deeply of that well. It does me wonders. Few people will sit in the dark. Fewer still will sit by themselves. We are trained to be fearful children; grasping herd beings huddled in the safety of crowds. Folks are almost repelled when I tell them I camp, or hike, or fish, or hunt all by myself. It takes a certain kind of humility to turn away from the cell phone’s brightly lit debasement and embrace the true nature of the world.

Is it worth it? I think so. But I guess that’s up to each of us. If you open your mind to experience things but you might like what you learn. Or you might not. Regardless, you won’t know unless you try and almost nobody tries. If you’re fortunate enough to know a place free of traffic noise and urban light pollution give it a shot.

On this particular night, with the air so still and the skies flickering with a perturbed magnetosphere, the world felt timeless. There was the sense that anyone who sat perfectly still long enough would witness the Universe’s secrets. Such a being would have knowledge of the sort most folks don’t even know they lack. I suppose, a feature of having such knowledge is the inability to communicate it with less ethereal brethren.

Animals were moving about, but not the common ones such as deer. Deer stay put during the darkest of moonless nights. I heard a ruffed grouse beating a log somewhere. Owls were hooting, as if to warn the grouse they were hunting and all’s fair in the world of nature. Bears are not unheard of in my yard, but I haven’t seen one lately.

I fancied if I waited long enough I’d move through time. Would I see a mastodon? How about a glacier? Neither would seem out of place in my yard. In some ways a mastodon makes more sense for my yard than my damn maintenance prone Dodge. The ice age is distant and yet it is not. One could argue we’re removed from it by either an unfathomable span of time or just the ebbing of a few short moments. It depends on how well you know things. It was yesterday to a geologist and never happened to the unobservant. How hard do we really look at the world around us?

I caught the faint whiff of a skunk. I’d been sitting perfectly still and silent for a good long time. Can’t blame a skunk for not sussing out that I was there. I let my presence be known. “Damn fine night for blasting a skunk to bits.” I said it in a perfectly conversational tone. From whatever vector Mr. Skunk had been approaching, he vamoosed the way he came.

Just about then Mrs. Curmudgeon poked her head out of the door to see how the northern lights were. She sniffed the air, identified the scent, and retreated into the house like we had a velociraptor prowling in the darkness.

I stayed on post. The northern lights faded in and out. I tried taking photos with my cell phone, all of which looked like shit. The skies weren’t 100% clear so I saw fewer stars than under ideal conditions. I started counting satellites and lost count around 13. In the middle of this I saw a righteous shooting star. Nice!

In the distance, far far away, I heard some howling. I hear coyotes all the time but wolves only rarely. This time it was wolves. The difference isn’t subtle. They were far away but I don’t know how far. The sound of a wolf howl travels some unknowable distance. I wondered what that distance might be; a few miles, a dozen?

My dog is a breed meant for killing wolves. It’s a healthy young beast of a size to make good on its heritage. On the other hand it’s a loveable creampuff. It roused from its slumber, listened carefully to the howling, and then looked at me with definite purpose in its eyes. “Alright, this has gone far enough, haul your civilized ape butt out of that chair, take me inside, and give me a dog treat.”

Of the two of us, the apex predator is the bearded old dude and not the hulking young dog. Go figure. But maybe the dog had a point. I’d been out there for hours. Might as well turn in; to my dog’s immense relief.

By then the northern lights had faded. The cat, which had been snoozing and purring while I sat, clawed the shit out of me as I stood up… because cat. I lumbered a mere fifty yards yet through dimensions of experience to rest on a bed, in a house, surrounded by walls and electronics and payments, and a very relieved dog. I fell asleep quickly. I dreamed of it all; mammoths and wolves. Everything was illuminated by northern lights which are always beautiful; both in skies teeming with satellites and emptier ones. The latter glittering above silent glaciers.