Skywatcher

Although I know very little about the constellations and planets and I’m surely no expert on weather or cloud formations, I’ve always been intrigued and awed by the sky and its infinity.

When we were young girls, my forever friend, Pam, and I used to refer to “God Skies” and “God Clouds” after seeing too many televised versions of The Robe, The Ten Commandments, and Ben Hur, where God's presence would be made known by particular sky scenes—usually the sun's rays angling out from behind clouds.

Since then, I have found solace in those magnificent “God Skies.” Any burden that seems to be weighing heavily on my shoulders lessens because I feel as if a greater power knows the plan.

I also love to watch the early morning sky. When all is still and the day is unfolding, there is nothing as lovely as the dawn. It’s not unusual for me to find myself unable to move away from the bedroom or kitchen windows, for the early-morning sky is often a radiant shade of pink. How can one have a bad day when it starts out with such majesty, beauty and tranquility?

The sky at sunset also has a way of drawing my attention away from other matters. Often, those evening skies are filled with sherbet colors of pink and orange. My late mom used to refer to "sky blue pink," as a tongue-in-cheek color description.  I wonder if that phrase came about because of a sky like those I often see at sunset.

The night sky always used to captivate my parents' attention.  Growing up in the country, there were no city lights to obstruct our view of the celestial nuances.  My parents would sit outside in lawn chairs in our back yard on summer evenings, gazing upward with appreciation. The wide expanse of blackness, dotted with many bright and twinkling stars, makes one feel small in the context of the cosmos. 

My husband, Larry, and I have had the opportunity to learn more about the night sky from members of an area astronomy society who generously share their telescopes with the curious at our local state park. We’ve seen planets, stars and constellations in ways we could never enjoy with the naked eye.

Larry and I have also attended lectures about solar eclipses and black holes. There is so much to learn about that vast umbrella that we call the sky.

When life feels as if it’s spinning too quickly, take a few moments to look up at the sky, whether at sunrise, midday, sunset or in the dark of night. Spend a few moments in awe of the infinite, and find peace.

 

Just the Crickets and Me

There are those nights when my mind is in overdrive and I simply can't quiet it fully to enjoy my needed eight hours' rest. Such was the case about a month ago, when at 1:00 a.m., I glanced at the clock, groaned inwardly and realized that it was going to be one of those nights when sleep would evade me. After tossing and turning for about an hour and glancing every few minutes at the clock with mounting frustration, I finally decided to get up. I headed straight to the sun porch rocking chair where the open windows welcomed the summer nighttime breeze and the crickets in the backyard sang with abandon. Until 3:00 a.m., I rocked, the crickets sang, my breathing slowed and the warm breeze wafted in, swirling around me like a soft blanket. The restful, slow rhythm of my rocking restored the quiet in my mind. After a while, I was finally able to return to bed and fall into a deep, contented sleep. I awoke the next morning on time and remarkably refreshed. Our sun porch is a magnet for both my husband and me. We sit quietly there, alone or together, contemplating and taking in nature's beauty. The large, fluffy evergreen and row of tall arbor vitae are home to several species of birds, chipmunks and the occasional squirrel family or two. At dusk, the fireflies come out to dance and in the wee hours of the morning, the birds start singing to the new day. All seems right with the world from our sun porch, even in the middle of the night when sleep resists and the only sound in the inky sky is the jubilant chorus of the crickets.

The Perfect Light

The alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. and I inwardly groaned that I had set it for such an early time on Christmas Eve, of all days.  Then, I started to think of all of the joyful things I would be doing today and I more eagerly crawled out of bed.  By that time, Larry was standing at the south-facing bedroom window, staring out into the darkness.  He called to me to join him.  There before us in the inky, early-morning sky was a most spectacular display.  Everywhere to the east and south were bright vertical bands of light shining down from the heavens, some narrow, some wide, some bright, some faint.  We had never seen any such thing, so we stood speechless at the window.  We finally tore ourselves away from the scene to start our morning routine, with me making the bed and Larry braving the temperature to get the newspaper in its box at the end of the driveway. No sooner did he walk outside than Larry was back at the door, beckoning me to join him outside.  I hustled to get on my long down-filled coat, hat, gloves and boots, a feat unto itself during the middle of the day, but somehow more onerous in the early morning.  But, the hustle and hassle were worth it.  As we stood in the driveway, we gasped as the bands of light surrounded us in all directions. Overhead was a half-moon and dozens of bright stars.  Some of the bands ran vertically from sky to earth, while others hung mysteriously as if they were suspended.  Some of the nearby bands sparkled with snow crystals.  The thermometer registered six degrees below zero, but we weren't affected by the cold.  We were silent, content while surrounded by perfect light.  There must be some long scientific name for such a phenomenon, but I prefer to think of it simply as a Christmas gift. Within a half-hour, the sun was starting to creep into the distant sky and our light display was mysteriously gone.  What better morning to see such a sight, I thought, than the day that would lead to Christmas Eve?  Indeed, all was calm, all was bright.

Star Bright

The evening sky always used to captivate my parents' attention.  Growing up in the country, there were no city lights to obstruct our view of the celestial nuances.  Although as a child I seemed to take that spectacular view for granted, as the years go by, I am increasingly interested in the night sky.  The other evening, Larry and I happened to be outdoors when, all of a sudden, we both stood still and looked up at the wide expanse of blackness, dotted with many bright and twinkling stars.  It was a sacred moment, together in our silence, observing the sky. Then, the next night, I found myself standing in the darkened kitchen gazing out the window.  It was late and I should have been sound asleep by then, but I'd gotten lost in the hours of writing and reading.  I let myself stand there for a while and I instantly felt a connection to my parents.  Whenever I can't sleep (which fortunately isn't very often), watching the night sky from any available window is my best antidote.

Twinkle, Twinkle

I'm a sky watcher.  It doesn't really matter what time of day or season of the year.  I just love to watch the nuances of the sky.  One recent evening, I stood at the kitchen window, admiring the moon, its glow through the clouds and two stars that twinkled, one on either side of the moon.  I could have stood there all night, for the scene was almost mesmerizing to me.  Last Friday, when Larry and I were walking at Devil's Lake, I noticed how exquisite the sky was, with its bluish-pink hue becoming more pronounced as the sun set.  On another evening, I noticed that the sky had that Halloween look to it -- bluish gray with puffs of black clouds.  Oftentimes, when I wake up in the morning, I watch the sun come up.  The bright red and orange horizon is just enough to tell me that it's going to be a great day.  I set my sights high as I glimpse the expanse of sky, with all of its brilliance and variety.  Watching the sky has become a daily -- and spiritual -- experience for me. 

Seeing Stars

While watching a PBS show about astronomy recently, I learned about the negative effects of light pollution as they relate to the night sky.  Sea turtles, which normally move quickly to water upon hatching, tend to get their directions confused these days due to light pollution -- artificial lights taking over the night sky.  I simply can't imagine living somewhere where I couldn't see, really see the night sky.  While no expert on constellations, I love looking at the stars.  I grew up living in the country where the night sky was magnificent.  My parents could be found frequently in their lawn chairs, enjoying the evening sky.  Recently, I had the opportunity to enjoy the night sky myself -- full moon, bright stars twinkling against a black expanse.  I sat right up in bed and watched out the window for the longest time, singing to myself the "Starry, Starry Night" lyrics from Don McLean's "Vincent," one of my all-time favorite songs from the 1970s.  Sea turtles, humans, all living creatures benefit from a real starry, starry night.  Perhaps it's time that we turn off the lights, if just for a while.

This Little Light Of Mine

Since Daylight Savings Time ended a month ago, I have been leaving work in the dark.  The expansive, clear night sky is lovely as I walk eastward to my car.  Each evening, I watch for the position and phase of the moon and then my eyes rest on a lone, bright star in the eastern sky.  When Larry and I visited a planetarium-theme IMAX presentation last month, I thought I learned that the bright star I'd been seeing was the planet Saturn, but since then, a friend who's an amateur astronomer has said that it can't be Saturn and must be something else. Whatever that faraway, bright star is, it guides me at the end of my workday, helping me to slow my pace by revealing its beauty against the ebony sky. As Christmas approaches, it makes me think of the lyrics to "Rise Up, Shepherd, and Follow": "There's a star in the east on Christmas morn...."  My parents used to sit outside in lawn chairs, enjoying the nuances of the summer night sky.  As a teenager, I was too busy being a teenager to spend time joining them in their star-gazing pursuits.  Now that I'm older, I, too, am captivated by those same celestial nuances.  How fortunate to live where the night sky isn't hidden by human-made light.  How blessed to have had parents who taught me gently, by example, to appreciate its beauty and mystery.  And how blessed I am to have my eastern star to welcome me each evening.