If you look into the northeastern sky before sunrise tomorrow morning you'll see an object, a comet with a tail suspended like a necklace and gem against a steel blue curtain. This month you can also observe the comet in the west after sunset. A double treat. Named Neowise by the astronomers who discovered it in March, the comet is a two-mile wide piece of rock that last visited Earth over 6000 years ago or about 1500 years before the dawn of recorded history. That means our celestial friend will return again in the 88th century.
On an more optimistic note we don't have to wait more than one day for another beautiful astronomical event. This one happens every year at sunrise in July. Back in the '70's and '80's I watched this event unfold many times from my porch overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Seems only yesterday. First, Bellatrix, a blue giant star rises to be followed soon by the red giant, Betelgeuse, and the blue giants, Mintaka, and Rigel. We see a signature belt of three stars and a faint sword and know that Orion ascends. Not far behind is shimmering Sirius, a binary star also known as the Dog Star. It is the brightest star in the sky but soon it and all the others will dissolve in the blinding light and heat of another summer sunrise.
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| Sirius, the Dog Star |
When Neowise last graced our skies all eyes in the Nile River valley and those of other ancients peoples in the region turned to the summer dawn anticipating the appearance of Orion and Sirius. They signaled the coming of the floods, of water for life and eventually civilization. We have come a long way in time since scribes first recorded Sirius's arrival in the damp mud along the banks of the Nile. But we still experience the star and the season it announces.
While some people dread them I look forward to the coming of the "dog days." The heat makes me thrive and my arthritis becomes a memory. Atlanta's climate data tells us that on average the warmest days of 2020 will be behind us in a few weeks. The sun is already casting ever longer shadows as it arcs lower across the southern sky. Leaves hang limp on trees catching more and more of that light giving the woods a golden hue even at midday. The aging summer has also brought this year's acorn crop close to maturity. I can tell because the squirrel community in our woods is starting to work overtime on an early and near-ripe harvest. They litter the patio daily with twigs, leaves, and broken nuts, making for a big mess as well as grilling "under fire."
Calm days and high temperatures also lead to popcorn thundershowers that meander across the region waiting to die out as fast as they arise . So far they've brought powerful lightning, the positive strikes that start fires, inches of rainfall, high winds, and pea sized hail. With that said it's time to envision sitting comfortably on the screened porch where a big ceiling fan quietly generates a steady breeze and your sweating, sweet iced tea feels good even to the touch. The forest surrounding me is a still landscape interrupted by an occasional bird or squirrel. If you stay there long you witness the yellowing light of day giving way to the twilights, the lightning bugs, the cicadas, then the katydids and a chorus of north Georgia tree frogs.
I love all of those twilight sounds but I love the katydids most. They remind me of long summer vacations and drifting to sleep in my bed next to a cottage window that opened wide to both their chatter and a comforting breeze moving down the West Virginia mountainsides of my childhood. It was there I first developed a passion for forests, for flowing water, for a clear sky I felt I could almost touch. Over sixty year later that passion leads me to waken before the sun to witness a pattern of stars rise out of the ocean and bring me summer. Bring it on!
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