subtle and deliate beauty even mid day: snowy mountain behind a lacy willow branch
There is no moon, only the delicate light from the stars, dazzling against the infinite blackness surrounding them, quiet in their reflection upon the fresh crystalline snow. They allow me light enough. Eyes adjust when there is nothing brighter to blind us and wash out the quiet magic of the velvety glow. I feel my way to the sink to fill the coffee pot. The big window before me sparkles with the deepness of the universe glittering before me, so close I can touch it, I am there, in it, among those stars dancing, one of many, howling wild and free in the black dome above us all.
The water spills over. I return and am grounded in my warm cabin, inside looking out.
In the high of the mountains, we can see just a little more. The thin air provides less obstruction. There is no light pollution here. Only the reflection of flames from cracked door of the woodstove, flickering on the inside walls. There is something about the cold air. I know not how, or why, but I look up enough to know we see further, deeper in the intense cold of winter.
A spark in the sea of stars I assume is from the chimney. Then another and another. I begin to pay attention. I look. The sky is alive. Outside the window where a few of the horses had been lying in the snow, sleeping in the peace of the early morning and end of night, they are now standing. I see their silhouettes large and black against the snow, facing the sky. Are they too watching this enchantment in the sky unfold?
In the dark of the house I gently wake the boys. They both awake with a start and wonder what is wrong. Nothing, I assure them. Nothing I can say or see. I tell them instead of the shooting stars. In the dark of the cabin with the starlight the brightest radiance, Forrest comes out sleepily and sits before the big window. The magic unfolds before him too. For a child, no longer a child but a young man now, who has never seen fireworks on the forth of July, meteor showers and lightning storms have been what filled his eyes with amazing beauty, filled his soul with fascination and wonder.
We sit in silence and stare out into the vastness. The sky rewards our patience.
He returns to sleep, the darkness remains, the magic in the sky continues to put on it dazzling show. For me alone or so it seems.
Now I sit by the fire with the computer on my lap. The darkness of the sky is lost in this artificial glow. It blinds out the subtle light of the stars. Yet, a message from across the country appears on the screen. A friend has watched the very same show, 2,000 miles away…
Suddenly I am but one of those infinite stars again, and I take comfort in that, knowing I am surrounded by a countless number, a sea of endless stars, one of many, so many…