I caught the tail end of the Leonid meteor shower this weekend, although it was more by chance than intention. I have a cold, and my cough woke me up at 3 am, and while I sat there coughing, I remembered that the meteor shower was this weekend. Not that I have it marked on my calendar (which is a really good idea, now that I think about it), but because I’ve always been interested in astronomy. Since I knew I wouldn’t be falling back asleep for at least a while – it was going to be another hour before I could take my next dose of Nyquil – I tossed on a robe and slippers and went outside to stargaze.
I wish you could have seen it.
Brilliant stars. Millions of them. And I even spotted a few meteors, streaking across the sky before disappearing in a wink.
No wind and no sound. I could have been floating through space like Matthew McConaughy in Interstellar or Sandra Bullock in Gravity…but without all the life-threatening drama, thankfully.
Seeing that night sky did make me feel sorry, though, for everyone who hasn’t witnessed the spectacle of a star-studded night. The distances and physics involved are mind-bending enough, not to mention the humbleness you feel in the presence of vast creation and the awe it inspires. It makes me want to snatch any kind of screen or diversion from anyone’s hand and shout at them: “LOOK! Life is all around you – get involved with it!”
That’s a bit over the top for 3 am, don’t you think?
I guess I could blame the Nyquil that was wearing off, but the truth for me is that I love this earth, this life itself, and starry nights always take my breath away in awe and reverence for God who created it all. I wish everyone felt that way – awestruck, blessed, grateful.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
Good morning, Ms. Dunlap. We have learned from various unnamed sources that somewhere in your 1.5 acres of woods and tall grasses there are four Chuck-it balls, at least 10 tennis balls and two big black Lab/Shepherd dogs.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find the dogs and all the balls before they get washed out of the yard in the first heavy rain of the fall. As always, should you or any of your team be caught or killed, we will disavow any knowledge of your mission.
Good luck, Jan.
(Cue Mission Impossible music theme)
Natives and dogs are happy here
Restoring native habitat is one of the joys of our life on our new property in the Texas Hill Country. Now in our second fall here, I especially love the tall grasses that blanket the open spaces of our yard, and boy, do we have a lot of them! The grasses reach up to my chest in September and October, which means we have a sea of grasses beyond our back porch. My favorites are the muhli, which look like sprays from fountains right now.
The dogs get a real kick out of running through the grass first thing in the morning, too. They emerge wet from patches of grass covered in dew, while I’m decked out in my tall rubber boots in an attempt to keep my feet and legs dry. Michael, our not-yet-two-year-old Lab/Shepherd mix, has become ball crazy, and while he manages to usually find a ball in the yard, it’s not always the one we just threw. And then, sometimes, he gets distracted on his way to the ball, and ends up chasing Gracie instead. Hence, we have at least a dozen, and probably many more, balls out in our yard somewhere. Every morning when I set out to locate the missing tennis and bright orange Chuck-it balls, I can’t stop the Mission Impossible theme playing in my head.
Gee, maybe it’s time to call in the special ops team for help. Anyone have a direct line to Tom Cruise?
Maybe it’s my inner visual artist trying to escape, but I’m entranced by finding photos that resonate in me with a moment of awe. Even better, sometimes I find a great quote to go with them! My sister took this photo on her African safari a year ago, and I love the vastness it captures. When I came across this quote, I knew it fit perfectly with the shot.
May your life burst boundaries!