This week I am writing from central Mexico. San Luis Potosi to be exact. The trip down here had it´s usual "opportunites" as most travel events do that involve more than one airplane and international borders. Still, there were no major problems, and actually one very nice treat.
My second plane ride had departed Dallas/Fort Worth at sunset. As you fly over southern Texas in the dark, you can tell that you are coming to the Mexican border when the lights from the ground slowly start to wink out. You are leaving the U.S. and you are starting to overfly the nothingness that is northern Mexico. A lot of desert scrub and only the very rare and small points of light that are probably ranches or oil rigs or something of that sort. Just miles and miles of nothing, and a lot of darkness.
So it was in this darkness that the airplane made a subtle left bank and then this nice little astronomical event came into view through my window. I had read that it was coming, and being the astronomy geek that I am, was looking forward to seeing it; a rare alignment of the moon, Jupiter and Venus. The only problem being that it was set to occur in the cloudiest month of the year in Chicago, and then I also found out that I would be travelling that night. So I had basically given up and sort of forgot about it.
But now, here it was; a quarter-moon tipped upside-down to form a perfect bowl, under which sat Jupiter and Venus beaming very, very brightly. All so closely compacted together, that you could cover them all with your thumb at arms-length. The total darkness of the desert made them stand out so crystal-clear, and the moon was strong enough in that darkness that it actually illuminated the Sierra Madre mountains that sat right below it. It was gorgeous sight. Unfortunately, windows don´t open on a 737, but I so wanted to be outside of that window to really take it in.
I hope that I never lose my appreciation for the gifts that nature gives us like this. Especially the night sky in northern Michigan, (or in northern Mexico). Anywhere, where you can get away from our artificial light on a crystal clear night.
I remember coming into the house one cold, clear night, and announcing that I had just seen a meteor streak across the sky. My wife, who had heard me say this so many times before, could only say, "Again? How is it you see so many of these?" My response was that "I guess because I´m always looking up!" I like that thought.
1 comment:
Poetry!
Super!!!
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