Power Outage.
Last night, I was sitting around, watching TV*, pretty dull. And then, suddenly, the power went out and I was left in complete darkness. After a few moments of hoping the power would just come back on, I got up and fumbled around for my cell phone, which has a flashlight in it. (Isn't that the best phone feature ever? I totally bought it for the flashlight.) With the help of my phone light, I went outside, to see if it was just me, or if it was everyone.
It wasn't just me.
Pavel Banya is by far the smallest place I've ever lived. (Except Boboshevo, anyway.) By American standards, Petaluma is a small town, but it's still almost twenty times bigger than Pavel Banya. Even when the lights are on, there are more stars visible than there are in Petaluma, let alone Chicago, where the lights of ten million people blot out almost everything in the sky. I can see the Milky Way almost every night. But I have never seen anything like this in my life.
This, I realized, was what the ancient Greeks saw when they looked at the sky (almost literally, considering how close to Greece I live), and for the first time, I knew why they saw constellations in the stars. It was almost impossible not to pick out pictures and designs in that multitude. In ten minutes, I saw four falling stars. I could see M42, the nebula in Orion's sword beautifully. I think I saw Andromeda, but only out of the corner of my eye. Every time I tried to look at it directly it disappeared.
After ten minutes, the lights came back on.
I wish I could have taken a picture to show you all.
*I know, I bought a TV! Me! Can you believe it? I don't have cable yet, so I only get one channel, and that's with the rabbit ears. Max distrusts the thing and occasionally attacks the rabbit ears and the people on the screen.
It wasn't just me.
Pavel Banya is by far the smallest place I've ever lived. (Except Boboshevo, anyway.) By American standards, Petaluma is a small town, but it's still almost twenty times bigger than Pavel Banya. Even when the lights are on, there are more stars visible than there are in Petaluma, let alone Chicago, where the lights of ten million people blot out almost everything in the sky. I can see the Milky Way almost every night. But I have never seen anything like this in my life.
This, I realized, was what the ancient Greeks saw when they looked at the sky (almost literally, considering how close to Greece I live), and for the first time, I knew why they saw constellations in the stars. It was almost impossible not to pick out pictures and designs in that multitude. In ten minutes, I saw four falling stars. I could see M42, the nebula in Orion's sword beautifully. I think I saw Andromeda, but only out of the corner of my eye. Every time I tried to look at it directly it disappeared.
After ten minutes, the lights came back on.
I wish I could have taken a picture to show you all.
*I know, I bought a TV! Me! Can you believe it? I don't have cable yet, so I only get one channel, and that's with the rabbit ears. Max distrusts the thing and occasionally attacks the rabbit ears and the people on the screen.
Labels: stars
posted by Blogaria at 6:29 AM
2 Comments:
HOORAY!! A fresh blog! How appropriate that you could see the BEAUTIFUL stars and the lights that they cast--HAPPY FESTIVAL of LIGHTS--Happy Holidays, Kyla! With love, from your "cuz", Kathleen
The night sky, from a dark place, is a beautiful sight, isn't it? :) Seasonally appropriate, too.
I remember it well from my army days, during navigation training. On those clear crisp moonless nights... not only did the stars raise my spirits, they got me where I needed to go, too!
Happy Hanukkah, Kyla! And keep up the good work.
Dan Abarbanel
("Noone Special" on SDMB)
Post a Comment
<< Home