![]() ![]() ![]() I’d heard of the aurora borealis as a kid growing up in sun-blinded Southern California, but it had always sounded like a thing of legend–like reindeer and jingle bells and seven-foot snowdrifts and black ice. She said she didn’t know but grabbed her jacket and followed me to the backyard where we watched sky for a good half-hour or so, dazzled by the flickering fingers of green light. ![]() “Are those the northern lights?” I asked. Fascinated, I pulled over to the curb for a moment in order to watch the light show more closely, and I found it only passingly odd that no one else seemed to notice what was going on.Īt my friend’s house, I stood on the porch and pointed to the sky. While I’m not particularly sure why I was looking up when I should have been paying attention to the road, I figure sometimes it’s best not to question such things. ![]() 1Ī few weeks ago, as I was driving to a friend’s house, I noticed a strange greenish glow in the post-dusk northern sky. At the hinge of the year, Michael Fallon thinks macrocosmically. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |