I wish I could photograph for you what I see at night, but pixels are poor imitators of the immenseness… the deep, soul-sucking blackness that backs the diamond brilliance of starlight unimpeded by city lights.
The Milky Way that swags across the sky, a holiday decoration for year-round pleasure.
The planets that wander along their plane.
The satellites that travel across the sky in seconds, flashing sunfilled reflections as they rotate themselves.
The blinkblinkblink of highflying jets, their red and green lights blending as one.
The who-who of owls seems deeper and lonelier as they roost in the cottonwood’s bare branches.
The glowing rectangles from the house spill their meager reflections upon the snow.
Headlights on bright approach and then quickly fade, eager to return to “Home”, praying for avoidance of large game and jackrabbits.
The outline of the barn’s peak, the pine trees’ silhouette, the all-encompassing cold that tries to seep through coat’s seams and gaps. It’s all there.
It won’t translate to pixels.
So wrap a blanket around yourself, and let a deep “Sam Elliott” voice read to you of dark moons and starlight… and picture yourself here.