In a Coma, Sailing
Wednesday, July 15, 2020
Phase 2: Home
Decided to start with Phase 2 this week, to let the Earth—or more accurately, the Mountain Time Zone—rotate a bit toward darkness. S had a nondescript sandwich.
Phase 1: Oerman-Roche
D was off in the windswept fields of Kansas somewhere, and so S carried the torch this evening on a solo BNO. The Oerman-Roche trailhead has a reasonably clear view to the north, where monsters and comets ride the sky, from time to time. Or so the tales have told.
Plenty of clouds. S crossed the prairie, hither and yon, as cows sang their tuba-hymns, and the sky changed from pink to coral, coral to orange, and orange to warm turmeric tea.
Phase 3: Parking Lot
Cold apple pie and a cup of tea, waiting for the stars.
Night fell. People gathered in the parking lot and searched for the comet; our apps insisted it was right there, right behind the clouds. Just three hands under the Dipper, and a little to the right. If only the clouds would part.
And then, it appeared. Not in our eyes, but in the viewfinder. Careful now, it’s ephemeral. Focus, and click. Adjust the angle, follow the sky.
Let’s do it again tomorrow, we said. And again on Friday too. And seven millennia from now, in this same parking lot, when it all comes round again.
