On a Clear Night

Looking up at the stars on a clear night in an unpopulated, dark area is an unparalleled experience. It's shocking how seeing the stars in such stark relief makes the sky seems at the same time infinite and close enough to touch. And what's funny is, prior to the 20th century, this view of the cosmos was a normal nightly occurrence. Not until the birth of the electric light, and the resultant light pollution was ambient light so ever-present as to drown out the starlight. Now we have to drive far from civilization in order to catch of a view of the night sky the way our ancestors enjoyed it.

Most recently, Kate and I had a chance to scope the sky the was it was intended when we were out in Sedona, AZ. There, tucked up in scenic pull-offs, surrounded by red rock mountains under cloudless skies, the stars were resplendent. It was jaw-dropping. We laid out on the hood of the car, speechless. It's really something that everyone should see at least once in their lives.

Locally a good place to take in the view is Loch Raven Reservoir. I remember going out their at night back in college and seeing basically the same sky we saw out in Arizona. Really anywhere remote enough to escape the optical din of man made lights is the perfect location. It's well worth the drive.

Thunderstorms at Night

The fact that I can write this post honestly is a positive all by itself. When our roof was leaking and we were suffering from other rain-related hardships, water from the sky was a mortal enemy. But that's all taken care of now, and I'm glad for all the obvious reasons and because it distressed me to feel angst and worry whenever a thunderstorm rolled through instead of awe and wonder.

I'm glad to say I've now returned to my prior relationship with thunderstorms, and my favorite, the late night or very early morning storm. I love waking up to the sound of thunderclaps off in the distance, lightening illuminating the room at unpredictable intervals. Being inside, in the dark while a tempest boils all around me gives me a warm, cocooned feeling. It sort of heightens the sense of safety you feel sleeping in your own bed, adding an extra, very large element that your blankets and comforters are holding at bay. I guess the widened disparity between inside and outside makes inside seem that much nicer.

Plus the accompanying thrum of rain is a soothing counterpoint to the thunder's violent outbursts. If I wake up in the midst of a pounding storm, I like to just lay there, not necessarily trying to fall back asleep. I focus on the rain sounds. All of the random drips and flows of water through tree limbs and gutters wrapped in the background hiss of the rain on the street. It's a sound that guarantees a return to sleep for me, which allows me to enjoy the occasional jolts back to wakefulness that the thunder and lightening bring.

During the day thunderstorms are mostly a bother. But the night transforms them into a wholly different experience.

Still Night Air

I was thinking about this earlier today.  I'm sure many of you have had this experience.  You're outside on an average Spring or Fall day, sometime after the sun has gone down, when suddenly it hits you.  Something feels different...there's an emptiness which seems to completely envelope you.  A profound stillness, as if the air has ceased to exist; like you shouldn't be able to breath, but somehow still can.  It's an oddly beautiful sensation.  As if you're walking in a peaceful vacuum.  I've only experienced it a few times, which is part of the fascination.  It's randomness adds to its power.

Here's my theory.  On certain nights the ambient temperature closely matches the surface temperature of your skin, or at least that layer of air that's constantly being warmed by the heat your body sheds.  And the air is absolutely still.  Not even a slight breeze.  With no temperature differential, and no air motion, your nervous system has no cues to recognize that it's surrounded by anything.  And the dark of night adds a visual element to the sensation of emptiness.  Add to that a quiet rural or suburban setting, and your brain is tricked into sensing nothing.  I love that illusion.