Some People Live On the World, Not In It!

Oh, how I delight in the autumn! I used to despise autumn as it meant the resuming of the heinous institution of school. American education being what it was (and really, still is) I got most of my knowledge from reading (nothing that was dictated to me by the schools, either). I hated going to school with the exception of a small number of classes and/or teachers that made that particular 42-minute period worthwhile. For the most part, though, I really hated school and so the end of summer was a death-knell for me.

As an adult, I get through the summer in thinking about the fall. No doubt there. I am usually a lover of extremes, being quite extreme myself, but temperature extremes is not on that list. I don't care for winter and I definitely am not a lover of summer in New Jersey. The humidity tends to be unbearable. In the winter, as in summer, I look forward to the autumn. The sad facts are that a. New Jersey hasn't seen a real spring in a long time... we tend to leap out of winter into summer and 2. the spring season (when we have had one) is rainy and I am not a fan of that, either.

And then there is that magic day in September when the temperatures are suddenly in the high 60s and the air is crisp and clear and there is no humidity and the light sweaters can come out of hiding. The sky becomes a rich cerulean blue that only September and October can bring. The slight chill is present in the air in the early morning and the late evening but the cacophany of insect orchestras are still heard clearly late into the night. Oh, the delight of autumn! I cannot wait to wear sweaters and jeans and my hiking boots. I am delirious with happiness that the night air is cool and crisp. I still have the long lingering sunsets and longish days. And then the leaves begin their dance from the deepest green of summer to the russets, oranges, reds and yellows of fall. The air becomes full of brilliantly coloured swirling leaves that are not just little crispy critters like in the winter, but lovely soft, smooth, riotously painted bits of natural beauty!

Now, granted, there is nothing but magic in the months of September and October. But all year round, there are amazing sights, smells and sounds. I may not like temperature extremes, but I will happily live with them to have four separate and distinct seasons. This is very important to me. I love the desert but could I live some place with no snow? No supercell thunderstorms? No brilliant displays of colourful leaves? No, I don't think I could. I suspect retiring to the desert will be perfectly acceptable (although when the tarantulas migrate I would have to get out of Dodge - I am terribly arachniphobic), but to go there now, well, that would not work.

I can always see something amazing. This morning as I looked out the window at 0650, there was the vibant orange of the soon-to-rise sun, the huge flock of birds skitting across the colourful sky, the silhoettes of two squirrels in the maple tree in the front. When I walked across the street to the store, there was the pink of the sunrise-lit cirrus clouds overhead and the not-quite half-moon there, high in the westering sky. At that time, the sky had an almost crepescular look as the clouds obscurred the sun. It was quite amazing. That was all in a total of maybe three minutes.

I never want to miss a moment of the show that life puts on for me.

Photo: Taken from my flight home from Dallas, Texas - a supercell storm forming over Arkansas.

In June 2004, I came in to work late - planned as it was, so I could see the transit of Venus across the sun, an occurrence that comes one every 105.5 - 121.5 years. It is something that occurs once in some lifetimes - the last transit was December 1874 and December 1882 - and always in pairs, just 8 years less two days apart. I am fortunate enough to have been alive and have the right telescope with the right lense (for looking directly at the sun), on a perfectly clear beautiful sunny morning on 8 June 2004. It was magic. It was like being invited to the most amazing opera in the world! I loved every second of it and although I was constantly readjusting the telescope - I thought the moon raced across the sky! - it was so worth it. But then, I love astronomy and my telescope is my baby!

For those of you who may want to see this, not to worry. The next transit will be 6 June 2012. I certainly plan to be outside with my telescope on that day, too.

Only three objects pass between us and the sun - the moon, approximately once a year; Mercury, approximately 13 times a century; and Venus, approximately 13 times every 1,000 years. Venus was at perihelion to Earth, a mere 26 million miles away and delightfully visible as it tracked across the sun that glorious early summer morning.

I try to see every lunar eclipse and do so whenever weather conditions permit. I saw one solar eclipse when I was seven or eight but since then, I have only seen a partial solar eclipse (sans telescope but using two pieces of cardboard) in 1993. There won't be another solar eclipse until 29 March, but none of the solar eclipses from now through 2010, will be visible in North America. So who knows if I will see another in my life time. Lunar eclipses are not always visible to us, either. The last one was... I'm not sure... I can't find my 2005 Farmer's Almanac. I have them from 1991 through now. So the 2005 one is floating about somewhere. Anyway, I think the last one was 27 October 2004... the next one that is visible from here is not until 2007. There are partial and penumbral eclipses but no totals until next year. A dry time for me! The only eclipse even a little visible this year in the Northeast (any of the U.S., really) is 14 March, a penumbral eclipse of the moon. It won't be much to watch, just a slight dimming of the moon.

But still, even though there may not be any truly "flashy" events during this time, every day there is something amazing to behold.

Photo: A shot of the eclipse beginning on 27 October 2004 - my father's 60th birthday, ironically. I took this with my digital camera, by holding it up to the eyepiece of my refractive lense of my telescope - it was not easy but so worth it!