A Perfect Night

Little Harbour, Nova Scotia Sept. 14, 2017

I open my door and look up. There is no cloud in the sky. This could be a perfect night to look at the stars.

The sun had not gone down, but soon would. I had to hurry and properly prepare.

Even so when I got out to my Rock of Ages. I had to return to the house for a cushion. The wood bench I sit on gets hard on the butt after a while and I don’t want to limit my time out here because of that.

But I didn’t mind making two trips through the woods. It’s worth it to go back as I also need to get my “Bug Helmet” as the mosquitoes are out in force.

Walking down the path in the woods a second time, it’s darker. But there's still enough light and time to set up my bench on the rock and my laptop with “Stellarium” an incredible open source program which shows the sky “live” geared to your location ever changing with the progression of time. The “best things in life are free” and this is indeed one of them. An “open source” software program. An invaluable companion for my view of the heavens this relatively warm evening.

I am wearing all my stargazing gear: my balaclava which covers my head with a slit opening for my eyes, several layers of clothing and most important my star gazing boots which I bought at L.L. Bean in Maine on the drive up to Nova Scotia 10 years ago. They keep my feet warm no matter how cold it gets.

But today was unseasonably warm which, along with the cloudless sky, made me think this could be a perfect night. Without the usual cold – the only deterrent to coming out here. 

Except for a bit of concern about being out alone in the dark. At the edge of the Sea with the forest separating me from my house.

No breeze tonight but it's far from silent. The brook which flows into the sea beside me is far louder than its normal babbling due to the recent heavy rains cascading over the rocks now exposed at low tide. I don’t recall it this loud at night. In previous years I must have been out here at high tide when the rocks would be covered and the brook would be silent.

As it grows darker I look for the first star to appear. And then I see it, Vega. Followed by Deneb and finally Altair. The three stars that make up the “Summer Triangle”. Old friends that I am happy to see each summer when I return to Nova Scotia.

I am perched on my Rock of Ages placed here eons ago by a passing glacier. With a low horizon in all directions except for the woods to the North, I look out over the salt marsh to the East, the sea to the South and my brook to the West. In three of the four directions, the sky is a big as it gets.

Best of all there is no light pollution. None. The only man-made light is an occasional tiny pinprick flash. From a boat far out at sea, or the Gull Rock Light House. Or the blinking light of an airplane high up in the sky. All too far away to affect. And tonight there is no moon.

On a night such as this, there is no place on earth better for viewing the stars. None. I am incredibly fortunate to be here.

As time passes and as it grows darker I search for other old friends. And one by one they show up. My favorite constellations: Bootes the Kite, Sagittarius the Teapot, Pegasus the Horse, and of course the oldest of friends: the Big and Little Dippers.

And now I’m seeing billions of stars. The milky way. It looks like a misty cloud stretching across the sky. In fact, that’s what I thought it was the first time I saw it here. But as I look at it with my binoculars the cloud turns into stars too many to count.

With my binoculars, I look for one of my favorite sights: the Andromeda Galaxy. It’s just a small fuzzy blur the size of my thumbnail but it thrills me to think I am looking back in time. The light I see left there 2 million years ago. I wonder if someone there is looking our way. Wondering if we exist. Maybe we are sharing the same thought. If so our thoughts are traveling faster than the speed of light. The only thing we know that does. And then I think. You really can’t get there from here. Even if you traveled at the speed of light.

As I ponder the mysteries of time and space, it grows late. Time to head back through the woods.

In the pitch black of night, the path becomes longer. And rougher. With the exposed roots that are less prominent in the daytime. I’m not worried about a bear coming from either side of me. The woods have grown much denser in recent years shielding me from surprise. If he’s here I’ll see him coming down the path towards me.

Last night I had a “last supper” with a friend who had told me, several years ago, that she saw a bear crossing the road onto my property. She’s sold her house here and is driving across Canada to where her kids live. Had I thought of it I would have asked if she’d seen any bears here recently. But it's too late now. She’s gone and I’m here. Alone in the night.

When I emerge from the woods I see my house quite clearly even when I turn off my flashlight. The night is so clear and the stars are so bright I can clearly see its features: roof, walls windows and chimney. And now with the woods between me and the brook, it’s quiet.

I’ve never seen a more perfect night.

-----------------

The next morning, I’m up early to write these words.

Afterwards, I shut down my computer.

But then, as I am closing out my programs, the last one, Stellarium, appears again on the screen with the current sky. It shows the moon is out. And a very bright unnamed “star” moving rapidly across the sky. I don’t know what this could be but as I float my cursor over it, I see it’s ISS, the International Space Station. So I rush outside. No time to dress warmly as the space station is moving rapidly across the sky. I’ve never seen it before.

Alas, I can’t see it now. There are too many clouds now covering that part of the sky. But the sky is clear elsewhere. And high in the southwest, I see another old friend from the winter sky: Orion the Hunter.

It’s cold out here in my backyard for which I’m now ill-prepared. Yet I linger. Reveling in the beauty of the clouds drifting past the silent moon and the stars shining in the chill of the pre-dawn sky.

Lost

Little Harbour, Sunday, Sept 10, 2017, 10 A.M.

I’m in the woods that surround my property.

Lost.

But, I’m not “panicked”. The woods are not that deep.

If I walk in any one direction I’ll soon reach the brook I was headed for. Or my side yard from whence I entered the woods. And I can avoid walking in circles by keeping my eye on the sun’s position still visible through the tops of the trees.

A more accurate word to describe my emotional state? “Bemused.”

And when I do emerge from the woods the word is “surprised”. I’m surprised to find I’ve emerged in neither place I expected. Instead, I’m far down the path leading from my back yard to the sea.

How did this happen? My getting lost?

A “friend” indelicately suggests it’s “age related”. I reject this idea.

But between you and me, I immediately thought of Henry Fonda in that famous movie scene when he became terrifyingly lost in the woods.

But no. The reason I got lost, I insist, is that my woods are much denser than they use to be. The path I sought to the brook isn’t there where it was just two years ago when last I walked it. New growth is hiding it.

What caused this rapid growth? The same thing that’s causing all the devastating storms and hurricanes.

The climate change Deniers won’t accept this. They have chosen, perhaps unknowingly, to believe the energy lobbyists rather than the scientists.

Or the televangelists who will find it convenient to blame the LGBT for these “Acts of God”.

If indeed God is punishing us, wouldn't his wrath be more justified by our choice of the greatest creator of man-made chaos to be the leader of the free world?

A friend writes “ourOld wonderful world is in such chaos – can’t help but think Trumpty Dump is behind the scenes causing the heavens to explode. Ah well everything is outa control.” That's how she sees it.  And I?

If “God is Good” and indeed exists and is all powerful couldn’t he do better than this? And wouldn’t he want to?

Far more likely, IMHO is that the scientists have got it right.

And while I understand the motivation of the special interests and the politicians they own in supporting Denial, the mystery to me is that the innocent Deniers, with nothing to gain, can so easily be duped by the special interests who do.

Who should we listen to?

Mother nature!  Fighting for her survival.  And ours. Against the predations of man.

And I wonder.  If we don't.  What will She do next?

Outside

Little Harbour, Nova Scotia Sept. 7, 2017, 4:30 AM

“Outside”. A single word. Filled with hope. From experience.

One of the first words my first grandson learned. Now he knows sentences.

It meant he wanted to go for a walk with his Dad and I got to go with them. In the suburbs. Far different from the city where I live in the states and where his Dad grew up.

It’s even more different here. And though I’m used to it, it always surprises when I go outside.

And when I first arrive from the long drive up from Baltimore. How quiet it is when I first get out of the car.

And when I go outside. Even though you can look out the window and see what’s out there, it's different being outside.

It sounds different. The sound is not loud. Not like when a car goes by. That’s different and spoils the effect. Man made sounds of machines are unpleasant. Not soothing. Disruptive. Mostly.

The sounds of nature. The wind in the trees. The faint, soft, distant rumble from the dam across the road. A pleasant comforting sound which means there’s plenty of water.

Different from last year when half the wells in Nova Scotia went dry. It’s not just “water over the dam”. It’s what we need to survive. Plentiful this year.

It rains a lot up here. Or did until last year. I like the rain. It means I can work on my sun porch without the feeling I should be outside. And not missing out on the good weather. Or trimming the shrubs or cutting back the trees. Signs that nature would take over if given half a chance.

I’m not sure what I’m hearing now as I’m writing on my sun porch. It sounds like rain but I’m not hearing it beating on the roof. It could be the wind in the trees blowing hard. Or the waves crashing on the exposed shore far down the road which I can hear occasionally when there is a storm at sea even though that exposed shore is far away. Not like the protected cove at the edge of my property.

When the rain stops the air becomes crystal clear. A sunny day here is a joy to behold. And experience. I think it gives me energy. I don’t mind working outside and exhausting myself. It feels good and I know it's good for me.

It’s still dark outside and cold as I see when I open the door and I can’t tell for sure what I’m hearing. It sounds like the wind is blowing. And there is a gentle rain. And I think I may be hearing the brook with the water flowing heavily over the rocks from a storm last night while I slept. And maybe the distant faint roar of the sea from the shore down the road. Or all of these things.

But I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see. 

When it's light out and I can go outside.  

Rock of Ages

Little Harbour, Nova Scotia Sept. 6, 2017, 10:30 AM

I just got back from photographing the High Tide.

Time and Tides. I’m somewhat obsessed these days with what it all means.

It’s extraordinary yet commonplace. Since the beginning of time, the dawn of the universe, the tides have been rolling in and out in the sea at the end of the path from my house.

I would like to harness this great movement of water and go completely off the grid. Or that of the brook which goes past my property.

Electricity with which I heat my house is very expensive here. But nature is plentiful including trees for wood stoves which is the most common way to heat here in winter.

While on the rock witnessing the change, I looked for the carving placed there in 1927.

Someone carved the date then. I clearly remember it from looking at it with Amos I think 5 years ago. It probably was 10 years since I’ve found everything turns out to be twice as long ago as I think.

I could not find it. Yet It’s been there for more years than I’ve been on earth. And yet it’s suddenly disappeared. Or it’s covered up with an orange plant growth that has occurred in the last few years which was not there before.

Global warming?

I immediately thought of calling Amos to come over and help me find it. I think he may have recognized the initials and knew who they belonged to.

Amos was a fisherman. He knew everyone here and was a store of local history. A friend was going to record his stories so they wouldn’t be lost. I wonder if she did? He told me his mother grew up on Gull Rock, the lighthouse I keep watch on from my house.  I would like to ask him more about that.

Alas. I cannot. Amos passed away last year. Over 300 people turned out at the Rockland Cemetery to commemorate his passing. Everyone knew him. He is irreplaceable and sorely missed. By all of us.

I’ll look again for the carving on my Rock of Ages. But I’ll have to do it without Amos.  

Monsters

Little Harbour, Nova Scotia, 9/4/27 4 AM

I just woke up thinking about Jian Ghomeshi. A very famous CBC (which is like the U.S.’s government radio - NPR) talk/interview/entertainment show host. I can’t think of an American equivalent to Ghomeshi.

He was endlessly fascinating to listen to. So knowledgeable about everything topical from the arts to politics. A great interviewer. Famous. Everyone knew who he was. Up here in Canada.

Yet an unknown, completely unheard of in the U.S. Close neighbors who hardly know each other.

Well that’ not true. Canadians know all about the U.S. Probably more than we do. But Americans don’t know anything at all about Canada. Well not much.

Like I often get asked where Nova Scotia is. My answer? Go up to Maine and turn right.

Ghomeshi was much beloved by his listeners including me. Until it was discovered that he was a monster. That’s what one of the women whom he abused called him. Based on what came out it sure sounded like an accurate description to me.

Where is Ghomeshi today? I have no idea. When his dark secrets became public he was fired and disappeared from sight. After, of course, a complete airing of the story.

Like Stephen Harper. Canada’s former Prime Minister. Whom you never hear of anymore. And yet he ruled Canada, or almost did for I think like 10 years.

And “ruled” is an almost apt description. Rule he did or almost did. An authoritarian in the growingly popular role of world leaders. From Russia to Turkey and Hungary and Poland, the U.S. and even maybe France. Though the charismatic French President’s popularity has recently plummeted to far less than even the U.S. leader’s and in even less time.

How did Harper do it? Almost rule liberal Canada? That is still a mystery to me. The easy explanation is that the opposition to his Conservative party was divided by the two other political parties, the Liberals, and the NDP, But that still doesn’t quite explain it. At least not for me.

Meanwhile, the mystery of the U.S.’s most famous Monster continues. How he got there and remains so popular. Sure I know the polls say he keeps declining. But there is still a loyal (rabid?) 1/3 of Americans who still support him in spite of what appears to be his continuously escalating attempts to outrage.

And sure, I know the explanations, for his dominance. But the all-knowing who make them were mostly (except for a few like Michael Moore) only right in their predictions as they often are: Retrospectively.

Will he be gone and soon forgotten like Canada’s two monsters?

Yes gone, but not forgotten. Unlike our neighbors to the North who are so able to “move on” I think his infamy will lead to his next career as a media potentate. After he makes a deal to resign to escape criminal prosecution and loss of his empire.

But that prediction is no better than any other about the future. Without the accuracy of the know-it-alls who are smart enough to stick to retrospective predictions.

But one thing that I do know. Or think I know.

Canadians are better at dealing with their monsters once discovered.  

Eternal Life

Little Harbour, Nova Scotia     Sept 3/2017, 4 AM

She hears a strange clicking noise. Alone in her house deep in the country. She’s just gotten up. Down from her bedroom loft.

In the kitchen, her dog is shivering and her teeth are clicking. That’s what's making the noise.

It’s the end of August. But the cool weather comes early here. She threw a blanket over her dog and fired up her wood stove.

Today I will drive to Shelburne, a bigger town than my nearest here, Lockeport of just 300 souls. They have a population of over 1000 there.

There I’ll check into getting a wood stove for my sun porch. I should probably just get another electric heater. I won’t stay here through the winter.

But I’ve decided to stay another month beyond this one. It will be even colder in October. And a wood stove would really do the job of heating the porch and be real cozy.

My barn is filled with logs. Accumulated over the years as I’ve chopped up the trees as they’ve fallen in the woods in the winter storms.

Do they make a sound when they fall if no one’s here? Not here in winter, I’m not to know.

But I do know the tide comes in and out. Every 6 hours. A huge event. A massive movement of water.

And it's been doing that since the dawn of time.

Long before we were here.

I must stop writing.

I'm shivering.It's too cold.

I'm going back to bed.

It's Really Quiet Here

Halifax, Nova Scotia  Sept 1, 2017  3 PM

It was a bit unnerving.  I could hear my heart beating.   I don't know if I've heard it before. Worrisome?

If I was in some panicky situation.  Like in running for my life in an urban neighborhood perhaps that would make sense.  Except I'm lying in my bed in my cottage by the sea in Nova Scotia.  And I couldn't be calmer or more at peace.  Except for wondering is this OK?

I phoned a friend who told me that he heard his.  And I think he said he could hear his arteries or the blood rushing through.  But I couldn't be sure as I was driving to Halifax the main and capital city of this Canadian Province and it was noisy in the car and the reception wasn't that good.

Now I'm in this, my favorite, coffee house, the Trident book store, a two-hour drive from my rural cottage by the sea.

On the way, I stopped in Chester where I spent a few summers before moving down the coast to Lockeport where I now live in the summer.  On the way, I ran into Richard who has a  sailboat, a  schooner which he races and on which I spent some fun time.

And then I was in the Kiwi cafe, Sitting with Rod and 3 of his friends.  It was also a bit unnerving coming from the absolute quiet of the country and finding yourself talking with a bunch of people. I bet my blood pressure went up. It was a welcome change of pace, but I didn't stay long.

I find myself being completely cut off from interaction except with the local storekeepers or restaurant people in the small diner I go to.  It can be a bit isolating after a few days.  Yet, I welcome the isolation.

I'm learning a new (for me) computer language, Python.  This is my current "job".  I'm spending full time on it and the lack of distraction in the country makes it possible to completely focus.  Learning this is really hard work as at my age I'm in a rush to do this as quickly as possible.  But it is totally fun so it isn't "work".  Not at all.

I have a friend in Italy who tells me that now they will no longer pay him to do what he doesn't want to do he gets to do what he wants to do for free.  Me too!

I have another friend who is making big bucks consulting.  I tell him he should quit. He doesn't need the money.  But I also tell him in all honesty if someone were willing to pay me what he makes I would probably (undoubtedly?) accept and be working (like in a real job).

But, I also tell him I  am lucky that no one is offering to do this.

So I get to do exactly what I want to do.  In rural Nova Scotia.  By the Sea.