"Interplant Janet, she's a galaxy girl. A solar system Miss from a future world. She travels like a rocket with her comet team. There's never been a planet Janet hasn't seen."
I am so thankful that I got out to watch the Persied Meteor Shower on Saturday night/Sunday morning. The peak of the event wasn't supposed to hit until the next two nights, but the Syracuse weather girl said that would be the only shot to see it in our area. So as 3am hit The cell phone alarm went off and a couple minutes later I was out the door with my head cocked to the sky.
As cool as this summer has been, it wasn't so bad out. It was warm enough to wear a t-shirt, but cool enough so the bugs stayed warm in their beds. Jen and Zach passed on this one also staying warm and there was no way I was waking the younger two. The view of the sky from our back yard is pretty full. Trees literally frame my view, which is only about 45 degrees east to west, but the north-south stretch is about 140 degrees. There must have been a slight haze out there. I could see the stars clearly, but they didn't quite pop. Wandering toward the middle of the yard to a spot where trees blocked the streetlights,stared up at a patch of stars that didn't have a single recognizable constellation or planet and just waited. And for about 10 minutes, I looked up, listened to the sounds of crickets and katydids singing, and saw absolutely nothing.
Then the first one zipped across the sky. I don't know about you, but I get a rush when I see a shooting star. Every single time. It wasn't the best one ever. A quick, thin dart of light, but it was centered in my line of sight. They came more frequently, shooting mostly toward the north. For some, my eyes were spot on and others were like that ghost standing down the hall when you know you're the only one home. You catch it out the corner of your eye and turn quick, but then it is gone.
The thing is, I can't help thinking that this show is put on just for me. I'm standing alone in the dark with bugs and birds chirping. There is a train somewhere out there and I have an assortment of neighborhood wind chimes providing the musical score. There weren't even any cars. It was just me until the Tin Man came by. When I go out to run at 4am, I never, ever see people. I see cars and occasionally lights on in homes or businesses. But never any people, so hearing footsteps is out of place. Metallic bouncing, snaps, and crunches were distant and getting closer. In my yard, no one can see me, so I continued to watch for meteorites, but kept a concerned awareness. Oil can, indeed. The Tin Man turned out to be a gentleman with a large bag of aluminum cans and absolutely no concern that bouncing the bag against his leg as he walked in the early morning hours was quite loud and extremely rude. But I kept watch, not only on the sky, but on my company as well. Followed the sound, loud past the front of the house, cans sparkling off the streetlight, then he moved around the corner to Oakland Street, where sound and sparkle faded into the dark.
Meteors are an addiction. I was so tired, but I kept thinking, "Just one more." They came, sometimes two or three per minute. Then I'd wait two or three minutes for the next. About a quarter of an hour in is when I caught the highlight of my evening, or...morning. From east to the northwest, centered in my view was a beautiful, thick streak of light that lit up a full three quarter strip across my visible sky. The streak that this meteor left in its path was really like the quintessential comet's tail. It was long and full and its wake had a sparkle and glitter that hung in the night sky for what seemed like the longest couple of seconds that I have ever known. That was a rush. And though they kept coming after that, all seemed to pale in comparison.
Finally, about 30 minutes after I stepped out the door and dozens of shooting stars later, my eyes were wishing I was in bed and my neck was wishing that we owned a chaise lounge. I fell back to sleep happy. Content. Like I was the only person in the world who saw something amazing. One with the universe.
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