Looking Up

Looking Upweb

You do NOT have to wear a hat and gloves in order to look up at the sky. Feel free to wax theatrical, however.

A few weeks ago my friend Cheryl told me that most people forget to look up and view the sky on a regular basis.

I find this hard to believe. I spend a lot of time looking up—not just because I’m short but because I was educated to do so.

One of the joys of my liberal-arts degree from Mount Holyoke was and remains my minor in astronomy. I never wanted to be an astronomer. I loved studying astronomy, however. It grounded me in our world and our universe. It still does.

On clear nights (and we’re having a lot of those lately!) I keep track of the movement of the seasons by charting the progress of the constellations through the sky. The moon’s phases remind me that the month is flying by.

As for the sun … well, the sun’s migration along the horizon is particularly striking here in western Massachusetts.

At the winter solstice, when the sun reaches its southernmost point, the morning light appears outside my bedroom window over a high mountain. That mountain makes the winter sunrise even later than it would ordinarily be at this latitude, around 9:30 in the morning. I have often told our minister that if the church would celebrate a sunrise service at Christmas instead of Easter I might actually manage to get out of bed in time to attend.

Today is the summer solstice—and the sun has moved dramatically to the north. (Yes, I know that technically the earth has moved, not the sun, but life is all about perception.) From my point of view the sun now rises above the barn across the street at Red Top, the home of my neighbors the Gillans. I don’t actually see the sunrise from my window unless I get up to take my dog out around 5:30 and peer northward.

I’m not generally a sunrise kind of girl because I’m not a morning kind of girl. At this time of year, however, I enjoy contemplating the sun as it appears over that barn. (I can, and do, always go back to sleep!)

The sun will start moving to the south again tomorrow. But today it briefly seems to stand still.

Its bright northern light represents all the ripeness that summer offers—daylilies and corn and tomatoes; hours spent chatting with neighbors on the shore or gliding through the clear, cool water; shared stories and songs and sandwiches on the porch.

To top off the thrill of today, tonight we’ll be treated to the Strawberry Moon. That full moon of June celebrates the flavor and significance of my favorite berry. I plan to observe the occasion by consuming at least a pint of strawberries.

I hope you eat them too—and above all I hope you look up! I find that when I’m looking up the world is, too.

Happy Solstice.

strawberriesweb

To read more about my astronomy minor, click here.

To read more about the Strawberry Moon, click here.

Over the Hill?

I'm over the hill--but I'm not quite ready to move into the cemetery.

I’m over the hill–but I’m not quite ready to move into the cemetery.

The day before yesterday was National Old Maids’ Day. (Who on earth thinks up these “holidays”?) Learning that it was my special day reminded me of an odd recent experience. A man I didn’t know wanted to friend me on Facebook. I sent him a message asking how we knew each other. He replied that he didn’t know me personally but that he had found me on Facebook and was interested in making friends.

He added that he was actually looking for someone to marry, explaining that he was a widower in the army with two small children.

I am always a little suspicious of men who “find” me on Facebook. I have heard stories about individuals who who say online that they are in search of romance but whose real motives are to worm their way into the confidence and finances of the women they befriend.

This man looked more genuine than most. His timeline featured photos of him with the children, and he sounded nice. (Of course, he would, if he were in the confidence game.)

On the other hand, despite saying that he “liked” me, he obviously hadn’t done a lot of research about me. He asked what I did for a living and whether I had any children; that information isn’t hard to find on my Facebook profile and/or website.

So I compromised. I told him that I wasn’t really interested in getting married, particularly not within the next few months. I agreed to be his Facebook friend, however. Perhaps, I suggested, as I got to know him a little I could find a him a suitable girlfriend.

I didn’t hear back from him, which didn’t bother me—until an odd question occurred to me.

What if this guy was on the level and represented my last chance to get married and have children (albeit stepchildren)?

When I was younger assumed that I would marry and have children someday. It’s fairly certain now—although of course nothing in the world is absolutely certain—that I won’t.

In general, I’m happy with my old-maid existence. I have friends and family whom I love and who love me. I work hard but love my work. I don’t have any romance per se in my life, but, frankly. it has been so long since I was in a romantic relationship that I don’t miss it all that much.

Every once in a while I think it would be nice to have someone to grow old with—or even someone a little taller than I (that category includes most of the adults in the world) to reach things on high shelves in the house.

I’m hardly ever lonely, however. And since I wasn’t really fabulous at the give and take of romance when I was young it’s hard to believe that I would be much better now. I certainly can’t imagine getting involved with a total stranger. My best relationships always started out as friendships.

Still … it’s odd to realize that I will always be an old maid without ever having chosen to be one.

I recognize that I am over the hill. I just don’t remember climbing up.