{"id":432,"date":"2019-08-30T11:01:35","date_gmt":"2019-08-30T17:01:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/artabranches.net\/carta\/?p=432"},"modified":"2019-08-30T11:01:35","modified_gmt":"2019-08-30T17:01:35","slug":"starry-night","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/artabranches.net\/carta\/starry-night\/","title":{"rendered":"Starry Night"},"content":{"rendered":"

Here I go again, wearing flannel pyjamas in August, covered by my terry-cloth bathrobe and wrapped in a blanket, lying on the wet grass and looking up into the night sky. I was able to stumble along in the darkened yard without tripping or bumping into anything along the way, before positioning myself in the darkest spot, slick with moisture. The chill air smells fresh. A soft rustle in the leaves behind me makes me hope it\u2019s only the wind tussling the beanstalks.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oh! There\u2019s one! I\u2019m only outside for a minute and already I glimpse a flash of light, like a sparkle falling off a black curtain, a brief shimmer catching my eye and gone.<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s such a small meteor but I know if I continue to scan the sky, I\u2019ll be rewarded again. It\u2019s approaching four in the morning and as my eyes adjust, a smudge of lights is visible. Called the Pleiades star cluster, it looks like a grease spot on my glasses blurring what\u2019s behind. I\u2019m sure they were there in previous years of stargazing but why am I noticing only now? The approaching dawn will surely dim the stars and I\u2019m anxious to see more meteors before the dawn creeps up and obscures my annual quest.<\/span><\/p>\n

Years ago, when I first watched the Perseids, my husband and I lay together on a stack of plywood where our garage now stands. Without today\u2019s security lights and the new and improved brighter street lights, the stars we watched then seemed brilliant. The wash of the Milky Way amid the constellations was a dreamy sight.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oh! There\u2019s another! The NASA website said seven to ten meteor trails could be seen in an hour. I wonder if I\u2019ll see that many? Do I want to stay out here that long?<\/span><\/p>\n

The blanket falls from my shoulder and tugging it back in place dislodges cover from my right leg. The condensation on the grass seeps into my pant leg as I continue to scan the sky. I never know where to look, though. When I look west, a shiny trail appears in the east. When I look straight up, my glasses fog up a little. Regardless, I\u2019m limited by the scope of my lenses and I slowly turn my head to fully view the sky. Was that another meteor or did I move my head too quickly?<\/span><\/p>\n

As I wait, I wonder why I even do this at all. I\u2019m shivering, my back has stiffened and once again I berate myself for being unprepared. I was going to jump into the Buick and drive farther out onto the country roads and watch through the moonroof, but I forgot to take out the keys from my purse and I didn\u2019t feel like rummaging around for them. I should have dug out the lounge chair from the garage and had it ready for when I awoke but I wasn\u2019t sure I even wanted to try again after three nights of waking up to clouds.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oh! That one was pretty, like the sputtering end of fireworks, a fizzling spark extinguished.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oh! Another!<\/span><\/p>\n

I wonder if that\u2019s all? How long have I been here, flat on my back? If I lift up my arm to see my watch, I might miss one in the sky or worse – move the blanket again. Maybe I could watch them from the warmth of my bed through the window? The blanket slips again and the pillow keeps sliding to one side, getting wetter with the dew. Maybe I\u2019ve seen enough.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oh! Sputnik! Not really Sputnik, but a satellite captures my gaze and I follow its path across the sky.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

There were many nights long ago at the lake cabin, with the family huddled around the campfire, leaning back on our lawn chairs. We would patiently wait to spot another \u201cSputnik\u201d as we jokingly called them. And watch the bats make meals of mosquitoes.<\/span><\/p>\n

A passing plane, lights flashing white-red-white-red draws my attention.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oh! There\u2019s another one, shimmering away!<\/span><\/p>\n

How many is that now? Surely I\u2019ve seen enough to make it worth my while, awake in the middle of the night. I was afraid I\u2019d fall asleep out here but I\u2019m too cold to even feel comfortable. Should I go in? What if I miss the best one, the one that is both large and bright, shooting across the atmosphere for full seconds, dragging its tail through the starry sky?<\/span><\/p>\n

Oh! The brightest one yet appears right above me. Without a trail, it blinked like a light turned on then off again.<\/span><\/p>\n

I really should call it quits. I\u2019m alone in the cold. I have my cell phone in case I take a tumble on the obscured paths, but I\u2019ve accomplished what I set out to do. It doesn’t matter, truly, that I enjoy the meteor shower when no one else seems to bother. I feel a regret form in my heart – I should have shared these bursts of excitement with my kids and grandkids. I should have woken them from their slumber in the crisp early morning and cuddled outside in the darkness together to wait in thrilled anticipation for little streaks of light to glimmer in the sky.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s always next year.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oh!<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

–<\/strong>Barbara Gregory<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am a newly-retired teacher living in Breton. As a member of the INK BLOTS writing group of CARTA, I enjoy sharing my writing and discussing great books at our regular meetings.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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