3 a.m.

a couple of nights ago, joe woke me up from a sound sleep at about three a.m. of course, the first thought at such times is always, “something better be on fire, or i’m going to kick you as hard as i can.” joe told me i had to come outside as fast as possible, which, to my sleep fogged brain confirmed the fire theory, although i didn’t smell anything burning.
when i got outside, however, something far more pleasant than a house fire was waiting for me. have you ever heard anyone say they felt like they were standing “under a bowl of sky”? i never knew what that meant until this moment. we stood in the shadow of the house, tilting our heads back as far as we could. there were no clouds in the smell of the arctic air. the blackness of the sky was palpable. it seemed to me i could see it spread over me, curving to touch the hills at points too far away to be seen. so clear was the dark that it seemed i could see the clouds of the milky way, if faintly. the night was bright with points of light, brighter than i have ever seen-- venus to the east twinkling different colors, orion shining strong, the big dipper proud above, and the pleiades quietly watching it all. but most remarkable was the meteor shower. they fell with a brightness and frequency to inspire awe. one, the last i saw that night before the cold sent me back to my bed, was so bright that its tail hung shining for a moment behind it, visible to the naked eye, before winking out. held in the sphere made by the overturned bowl above me and the holler beneath my feet, i photographed with my minds eye a crystal moment of wonder.