Heavenly Bodies

I woke up around 2:00 this morning and realized that the Perseid Meteor Showers were supposed to be in full force now.  I was awake anyway so after peeking out the front door to see if any stars were visible, I went outside.  The dogs were delighted – they sensed an adventure was about to happen.  Of course, to them, everything is an adventure, from going to the garden to taking a walk to just getting up in the morning, when they greet me like I’ve been away for a week.  But going outside in the middle of the night with me is a special treat.  I pulled the rocking chair to the edge of the porch and settled in.  After a quick circuit of the yard to check for something to chase, the dogs arranged themselves around me, clearly ready for whatever might happen next.

 I enjoy looking at the stars.  I even learned a few of the names of the brightest heavenly bodies and know about the phases of the moon. But, when it comes to special events in the night sky, I have a long history of failure.

For years, my mom and I (my dad didn’t participate in any of our star-related adventures) tried to see various comets, meteors, and eclipses.  I’m not sure we ever were successful, except for the last eclipse of the sun, which was pretty hard to miss.

I’ve seen shooting stars, most of the time from the truck or car while driving in the middle of the night.  Or during potty breaks for puppies.  But I can’t say I’ve ever had any success with meteor showers, which are always widely publicized and sound sensational.  I’ve set the alarm to get up at the peak times and seen nothing but perfectly stationary stars, mocking me.  One night years ago, I remember my mom walking over to my house to wait until 10:00 to go outside to see the showers.  We watched tv and talked until time for the show, and when we opened the front door, a thick fog had settled around our place, so thick we couldn’t see a single star, much less a shooting star.

It has also been inevitable that on nights of the moon’s eclipse, there are thick clouds over our neighborhood.  Even when other people are posting pictures on facebook, all we have seen has been clouds.

Comets have been particularly frustrating.  I can’t tell you how many times we have driven around the neighborhood trying to find a spot where the current comet is visible.  To my knowledge, we never saw one.  The most excitement we ever had was once when Halley’s Comet was supposed to be in view.  We looked for several nights, from the front yard, the pasture, the back yard and various spots around Shipps Bend.  Late one night, my mom called me.  “I think I see that comet,” she said.  I put my clothes and shoes back on and rushed over to her house.  She was in her nightgown, standing in the front yard looking to the south, where the thing was supposed to appear.  Sure enough, there was a big bright light shining just about where we had been looking.  Finally, we had achieved success!  I stepped out a few feet to get a better look and when I did, I started laughing.  When we were looking at was a reflection off a piece of tin nailed to top of a fence post in the pasture.  I think that may have been the last time we looked for a comet.

 But hope springs eternal, and last night I was hopeful.  I sat in the rocker, gazing toward the northeast, rocking gently as the night breeze stirred the wind chimes and the cicadas sang.  I saw the North Star, shining steadily, and I watched the lights of an airplane, heading east.  Sophie slept on one side, Scout stretched out on the other, and Carli was on watch at the edge of the steps.  Bear guarded the door, just in case.  I sat for perhaps thirty minutes, thinking of nothing much, and wishing for just one or two shooting stars.  I was getting sleepy and a little chilly as the wind picked up.  Heat lighting flashed in the northwest, and I gave it up and went back to bed.  Maybe it’s better to just chance upon a shooting star, catching a glimpse as an unexpected wink from creation instead of a scheduled event.