The Winter Sky

How rich can we possibly be? On these cool clear nights, as Autumn gives way to Winter, Orion dominates the sky climbing through the bare branches of our oak trees - but look - there's the Pleiades, and Taurus the great bull, and Gemini. Even the Big Dipper and Leo are climbing back into the early morning sky. Well, Winter always decorates his home well for his great festive occasions! Meanwhile, Sirius, the Dog Star, that white hot companion of the Sun in July, and whose conjoined stroll together then across the sky gives rise to that period known as the Dog Days, now rises into this cold sky alone. It will be our only source of heat. Brrrr.
The Leonid Meteor shower was a fabulous spectacle early on the morning of November 17. Between 1:30 a.m. and 2:15 a.m., I seemed to be seeing about one meteor a minute, between periods of deep fog. The first one I saw appeared to be a great light streaking from east to west. I was reminded of a freight train that had lost its tracks and was plunging down on top of its rails into a deep canyon leaving a fantastic display of sparks, followed by a pathway of smoke. Then it was gone. I waited for the awesome sound, hands ready to clap over my ears. But there was no sound. A couple of Roman-candle-type fizzles followed, then a great flash lit up the eastern sky. Then another "freight train" fell into that same abyss, piercing its own halo as it arrived into our planet's embrace, leaving its own blazing trail of sparks, and I could see that trail bouncing up and down in the turbulence of its ride to oblivion. Silence again. As the great rocky road of dust faded into the night sky, the oaks around our house also faded, they into the newly arrived fog, and the lights from our carport glowed a pale yellow.
I recalled the naturalist Marie Mellinger, who had pointed out at the Hambidge Center in Dillard, Georgia, a few years ago when she and I co-hosted a "Fungus Among Us" fieldtrip, that Fungi was a separate kingdom, separate from plants and animals and minerals. She told us how Fungi had joined with Algae to form Lichen, and somewhere in that trio is a mysterious combination of things we can refer to as "Life". Algae seems native to our planet, but not Fungi. So where did Fungi come from? Some say it may have ridden one of these great "freight trains" into the atmosphere of our planet. Then, liberated from its vehicle of entry, was free to float into its own "sourdough-starter-mix",perhaps with Algae; who knows? I had read separately that some eleven tons of meteor dust enter the Earth's atmosphere every day. So what is eleven tons a day times eight billion years? Well, if you could multiply all that out you'd lose yourself in the answer. Meanwhile, another meteor blows across the sky - I am reminded of a home run, hit late in a game, by the opposing team - it seems to rise, and rise, and rise - way up and then slowly descend - and vanish - all in total silence.
So now comes The Bleak Mid-Winter; a real season, all in itself. Although the shortest day occurs on December 21 (usually), the earliest sunset is on December 4 or 5, and the latest sunrise is January 6 . And that period between the earliest sunset and the latest sunrise is sometimes called the Bleak Mid-Winter. It is filled with celebratory occasions. Thanksgiving is prelude; then we find Hanukkah (which varies), Buddha's birthday (December 8), Christmas Day, New Year's Day and the Epiphany (January 6), the day marking the arrival of the Magi and the end of the Bleak Mid-Winter. But the greatest treat of the entire celebration season are the Night Skies of Winter.

Canon ZR 50 MC camcorder, still shot from video.

© John Womack, 2006. All Rights Reserved.