Scribbling

One of the more accessible natural phenomena this time of year is a meteor shower, the Perseids, so name because the meteors seem to radiate from the constellation Perseus although they are visible all over the northern hemisphere.  My birthday has always served as a mnemonic device for me to anticipate the spectacle of silent streaks of light momentarily etching the night sky because meteor activity peaks around that time during the reign of the king of the astrological signs, Leo.  On occasion, when conditions permitted optimal viewing we’d spread blankets on the grass in our backyard, lay as sentinels beneath the star-domed sky waiting for a signal flash to write its fading script on the face of the deep, especially before development reached its gnarled hand into our rural community and overwhelmed our simple night-scape with light pollution.  I was buoyed by one aspect of our recent weather pattern, which, while much needed, indicates no chance of rain to impede visibility of the night sky.  Alas, my hopes were dampened as last night the sky was veiled in haze; this morning offers little hope for improvement over last night’s conditions.  Emerson and the Transcendentalists placed great stock in intuition, perhaps tonight Nature will leave behind a sign, many signs for me to see.