So it took a day or two for the mosquito bites on all my fingers to heal up well enough that I would actually have enough movement in my joints to write a post. It’s been an awfully long time since I’ve written, but if meteors and space debris don’t offer inspiration, then I don’t know what would. NASA mentioned that some of the best times to view Perseids meteor shower would be the twilight hours before morning on Sunday and Monday, so in theory, Saturday and Sunday nights. My viewing location was nowhere near the city or any light pollution, so it must have been a spectacular show, right? Wrong. From what I’ve read, it seems that when one sits beneath the stars, there’s a slight possibility oneth also siteth beneath the clouds…
And that’s how it happened. A calm morning painted with the glow from Citronella candles, the music from my Pandora “Pretty Lights” station (I know, how appropriate) and two Starbuck’s double espresso’s later, the grand tally was 8. Yes ladies and gentlemen, 8 separate occasions of space debris. And I’d have evidence of this, had I received a warning from the divine, 10 seconds prior to a shooting star. Maybe just a light whisper or a change in wind direction? Ha, had there been any wind, I wouldn’t have had mosquitos using me as a landing strip, buffet line and beach bazaar. The only warning I got was this sign here, clearly suggesting I stop my failed attempts at catching an eluding star and go home.
A sign from the divine to stop with all the madness.
It was enjoyable, none the less. And I fibbed earlier, there was actually 9. On my way home, still listening to Pretty Lights, I actually managed to catch the most fantastic flash of light from my peripheral. I turned my head just in time to see a shooting star, larger than any I had seen earlier, make its way across the sky. It was fiery and ambitious, and a perfect way to end the night.
Lewd, shrewd and slightly skewed. 