Happy Friday, everyone!
Clouds, clouds, go away - it’s almost time to host a school group at the observatory. Before I run off and weave slang with appreciation for antique telescopes and celestial matters (“….or, something..” as Bevis would say), it’s time for a quick Alt-Text blurb about moonrise last night.
Moonrise
A triangle of cloud lit up a strange orange, a lampshade in the sky, the shadowy bulk of the mountain a giant nightstand.
I feel like a low-budget SOFIA - that recently-retired airplane observatory - for the amount of astronomy I do while moving. (Not recommended, but some sights beg to be seen.)
Campbell Highway climbs the ridges, and when it does, I get a preview of moonrise before the valley. And I’m still careful to steer.
All of the other lights I could see - the cars, reflective signs, a lonely billboard unconvincingly promising Propane Happiness - were manmade, signs of us inventors and advanced cavemen. We still battle the dark, but haven’t won.
The moon is a natural light. She peeped over Long Mountain, a light, glowing orange from the low haze and cloud. When the moon is near the horizon, an optical illusion makes it look huuuuge, spooky, and magical all at once, a cosmic balloon, or strange troll head looming up over the rocks.
Later
A few solitary frogs sang in the cool night, as a breeze rustled up from the creek, rattling the windchimes. The moon had crept higher in the sky, and low in the east over the neighbor’s new bar, Arcturus glittered reddish in the hazy sky.
A cloud half-shrouded the waning moon, just past full. The moonlight hit the ice crystals in the cloud to form an almost-rainbow, gray closest to the brightness of the moon, and brown farther out, a sepia filter on this timeless sight.
Smudge the horse shifted in his stall off the the darkness, and high overhead, near a cloud in the Big Dipper, an airplane blinked green and red.
I looked up, the cool quiet of the night soothing.
Wonder where they’re going? Wonder what it looks like from up there? I hope they’re going somewhere happy, with someone waiting with a warm hug, or a friend ready to bury a hatchet, or a meeting that will go unexpectedly well.
Leo the Lion prowled overhead, his brighter stars shining through the thin clouds. Down on earth, high on the ridge, the cell tower settled in for a long night’s watch, blinking red…pause…red…pause.
The wind blew again, Arcturus still twinkled, and the cloud worked its way across the moon.
I turned back inside.
We think of space as a place of mind-incinerating distances, of pressures and temperatures and things measured in scientific notation. It certainly is.
And it’s also subtle, and beautiful, and happening all the time, smiling down from behind a sepia rainbow, as we dream of olden times and ready ourselves for star-rise in the morning.
Treasures from Earth
Now, I should put away the poetry. It’s time to entertain teenagers up the road for their field trip. While this is usually the place for a classical piece, today it’s a Johnny Cash spotlight.
I had the good fortune to bring the story of Delta Blues to a dementia ward yesterday. Oh did we have fun. After the main story, I was parked on this little bench. (You can bet there was a Gump impression.) A resident wandered over, and sat next to me with a twinkle in her eye. I grabbed my guitar, and played her this Cash number.
Aren’t we lucky to live on a planet with a Sun Records and a Shel Silverstein and a Man in Black?
Enjoy!
Josh