Waiting For The Northern Lights

Last Monday I read a friend’s FaceBook post that said, “Look to the sky tonight, Seattlites . . . “ He then linked to a Seattle Time’s article headlined, “Northern Lights Could Appear Above Washington Tonight.” A strong solar storm on Sunday, the article said, had raised the possibility of the Aurora Borealis appearing in our skies. The only caveat, of course, was that this is Western Washington. The best day to see the lights would be Tuesday, but rain was predicted then, so Monday between 10:00-10:30 was the night to look up.

I have always wanted to see the Northern Lights. The first time I heard the prediction that they might be visible from here, I was taking a late night ferry ride, and I stood out on the deck for the whole crossing, looking across the water for some hint of color in the sky. As it turned out, not only were there no lights that night, but I had spent my time looking west rather than north.

But last Monday looked good for another try. “The largest solar storm since 2005,” the article read. So Monday evening, after I put the sheep in the barn, I walked around the pasture with my dog Buddy and found a nice dark spot from which to watch. I rechecked my compass to be certain I was looking north. And I waited. And I watched.

The truth is that I do not know much about the Northern Lights. Do they appear suddenly? Or does the sky just gradually begin to glow and then flare up into blue and green and purple? Do they flash briefly, like a shooting star, so that I have to be looking right where they are to catch them? Or do they last a while, so that if I go inside for, say, a hot cup of tea, I won’t have missed them when I come back out again. And how clear does the sky actually have to be?

Last Monday night there was a half moon in the sky, but it was a just a dim glow through the clouds. When I looked north all I saw was darkness, and I could not tell if it was the darkness of clouds or just black sky. There were no stars.

I stood and stared. I walked further down the pasture to get a different view. I walked back up to try to stay warm. Still nothing. I went in the house and made some tea, then walked back out again. My dog Buddy walked through the darkness with me, apparently interested that we were out there with no sheep and no work to do. I looked north.

The sky did look a little brighter, but it was nothing definitive. Then the clouds cleared and the moon came out. Its pale light shone off the firs and across the pasture. Everything was black and white and gray and lovely. And then the wind blew some more, and the clouds came back and covered the moon again, and I went inside for the night.

The next day I checked FaceBook to see if anyone had seen any Northern Lights. No. And then, when I rechecked the original post, I saw that the Seattle Times article was a week old, and the call to look north had been for the previous Monday night, when I was down in Northern California anyway.

But still, that quiet night on the farm, standing in the field with my dog, was a gift. And while I will keep hoping to see those Northern Lights at least once in my life time, I also hope that I can remember what I experienced last Monday, and give myself enough time to notice the quiet beauty that is all around me rather than only look for the one spectacular sky show I might or might not see.