A few of the little things
Last night, after work, at 11 p.m. I purchased a medium coffee and maple frosted donut (because calories don't count after you've worked your tail off all day and then all night.) Then I drove down 128, down 295 and finally out west on Rte. 44 into Smithfield, RI, pulled over on the side of the road, reclined my car seat and watched for shooting stars for an hour and a half, facing west. I saw four.
First was a little scrape across the sky, nearly missed, from south to northeast. Gone in a flash, exciting nonetheless.
Second was a meteor scraping the curve of the sky at its farthest limits, arcing wide northeast to southwest, outlining the edge of the globe in a brilliant line of white, the far off, superheated molecules of the only life-sustaining atmosphere in the solar system, deftly soaking up kinetic potential.
Third was a lower and closer intruder, pushing through the atmosphere slow and wide in the same direction, drawing a long, thick line of white light that traveled short and faded slowly from a fat contrail to a narrow pencil line of superheated gases as its speed translated to luminescent energy.
Fourth must have also been low, as it was witnessed close to home at about 2:30 a.m., too near to Boston's light pollution to allow any but the lowest and brightest of meteors to show up. This last traveled south to north, and was gone in a flash.
I didn't get much sleep, but these four shooting stars were well worth the sleep deprivation.
First was a little scrape across the sky, nearly missed, from south to northeast. Gone in a flash, exciting nonetheless.
Second was a meteor scraping the curve of the sky at its farthest limits, arcing wide northeast to southwest, outlining the edge of the globe in a brilliant line of white, the far off, superheated molecules of the only life-sustaining atmosphere in the solar system, deftly soaking up kinetic potential.
Third was a lower and closer intruder, pushing through the atmosphere slow and wide in the same direction, drawing a long, thick line of white light that traveled short and faded slowly from a fat contrail to a narrow pencil line of superheated gases as its speed translated to luminescent energy.
Fourth must have also been low, as it was witnessed close to home at about 2:30 a.m., too near to Boston's light pollution to allow any but the lowest and brightest of meteors to show up. This last traveled south to north, and was gone in a flash.
I didn't get much sleep, but these four shooting stars were well worth the sleep deprivation.