Last night, a friend posted on Facebook that the Aurora Borealis was currently visible where she lives along the Lake Superior shoreline.
I love the shorthand that people use here to describe in little words something as awe-inspiring as the Aurora. Like when they talk about "the big lake" to describe Lake Superior. If you don't get why that is funny in a subtly ironic way, please come visit.
So anyway, most people will also just say "The lights are out."
I have a routine when I hear this code-like sentence. I go into my bathroom, make sure the lights are off, and pull up the mini-blinds over the big window so oddly placed behind and over the toilet (it was a strange remodeling choice somewhere in the house's 60 year history). I guess if you're a guy, it makes more sense to have a window there. To me it usually means cold air on my neck if that window is open, and a lack of privacy that always ensures those blinds are closed. Unless there are "lights." Sorry if me describing my bathroom layout and saying the word "toilet" borders on TMI for you. I am often the queen of TMI.
So, usually I have to stand there for some long minutes as my eyes get accustomed to the dark, to see a faint foggy white glow along the northern horizon. Looks a little like it would if there was a small town just over the horizon. Cool thing is, if you look on the map, straight north of my house, there is nothing like that at all. Looking to the north, the average population density from my bathroom window all the way to Lake Superior is 4.6. That's folks per square mile. Love it love it love it. Hermit love. Sooo...not exactly any light pollution problems to speak of.
(light pollution maps)
 |
| check out the corner of N. Paynesville and 2 Mile...not exactly polluted |
 |
| especially when compared to this (I am at the edge of the Bruce Crossing glow) |
 |
| or this...I am at the base of the Keweenaw Peninsula, in the dark |
Last night I went into my bathroom, wrestled a moment with an ancient mini-blind that I should replace (along with the mis-matched or just totally absent trim around the window of the probably 1980's remuddling job), and WAAAAHHHHH (the sound you make when something magically appears, the whole city of Chicago (or maybe more like Marquette, or maybe just Houghton/Hancock) appeared to be residing just beyond my horizon, in terms of light pollution in the sky. Even with my not-used-to-the-dark eyeballs, I could see this instantly.
I almost literally grabbed Bob and threw him in the car so we could drive north on North Paynesville Road, until we reached the flat cow pastures area near Two Mile Road (you know where that is). We turned out the lights and it was, literally, our best experience with the lights since we decided to make our lives in the north woods 2 years and 3 months, and thirteen days ago (Yay!).
I'm sorry we don't have pics. At least decent ones. My go-to camera doesn't permit me a slow enough shutter speed to capture the aurora. I do have a cheesy iPhone app which slows the shutter enough to capture a grainy green I-hope-you-can-imagine-the-rest type shot of the awesome sky show. Without a tripod, I was either resting my phone on the car door, hence the car antenna,
 |
| yes, I know this pic is awful |
 |
| just trying to prove I was there |
or on the dash, hence the park sticker.
 |
| I know, but the dipper is nice |
But maybe, I hope, you can get the idea. Because Aurora was dancing, in pillars and flashes and feathery patterns up about as far as the Big Dipper. It was a breath-taking and short show, before it died down to a bit of glow in the northern sky. At the end, I clapped. For God. Thank you.
I have so many things to be thankful for.
Another strikingly beautiful symbol of this miraculous land that I call my home is THIS:
 |
| These are Jordan's shots. |
Colors
Another shorthand phrase I hear a lot at my shop these days is "We came up for the colors," meaning the people who are vacationing in the UP from downstate, or other states (I saw folks from Texas and Alabama this week) to see the autumn leaves. Several weeks ago, there were a lot of little maple trees that started to get fired up for autumn.
It looked like the beginning of the big show, but that turned out not to be the case. Instead we got some almost record temps for many days in a row, which seemed to put a stop to the beginning of fall. People who traveled north early for the colors were probably disappointed, and people started saying it would be a disappointing show this year.
No way.
Because if you rode to and from work like me the last few days, with your wonderful hubby, and even if you were snoozing because you are not a morning person, and only opened your eyes during one little part of the drive, as long as it was THIS part, you would pretty much see all of the autumn colors there are just in like 4 or 5 trees.
I love this spot, and have now photographed these same 4 or 5 trees for three years straight. They never disappoint. Amazing. More clapping for God.
Not to mention the beauty of this spot that I pass by every day and every day.
One more really amazing thing about living in this land of lakes and forests is this. Look at this.
This is a TRAFFIC JAM on the Ontonagon bridge that I experienced while I was photographing the 4 or 5 trees.
There it is.
See it?
Yep.
Three cars. It seemed like a lot when I was taking pics. But that is about as busy as my commute ever gets. Love love love.
I know there are people who thrive in the big city. Nose to nose traffic....piece of cake. Lights, traffic, crowds. ARRRGGGHHHHHH (the noise you make when you lose your mind, just a little)!!!! Even though I don't get it, it's okay for you to love it. Stay there. And I will stay here. And please, be happy with where you are.
I am.
More clapping.
Thank you!
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment