The Perseids

the sky lit up

Photo by Austin Human on Unsplash

We stood on a ridge in Southern Manitoba. I bent my neck backwards as we watched and waited for Perseid meteorites to streak across the star strewn night sky. They did not disappoint, sparking awe and wonder with each scrawl across the infinite dark.

In the longish lapses between meteorites, “all” we had to look at were blinking distant stars in constellations this town dweller had forgotten could be seen, if we could just get far enough away from the intrusive glare of artificial light.

I live in a small country town in Southwestern Ontario that is virtually surrounded with massive greenhouses, owned by multinationals who light them, and the sky above them, with a surreal artificial glow that at times can be seen from hundreds of miles away. (And probably from space!)

We were gifted that evening on our friends farm in Manitoba, standing in a place that was surely known as sacred, long before it was claimed, sectioned, cleared and settled by Europeans.

The next day we drove to Winnipeg in the low lying haze of wildfire smoke from the sub-Arctic. The radio news warned us not to exert ourselves outside, and to wear a mask if we had respiratory issues. I leaned my head back as my wife drove, and I strained to remember the stars.