One of my most favorite things about moving out of the city onto 5 acres, 30 kilometres away, is the night sky, and I sometimes forget this until I have to put the cat out at 2am, or someone is lost at the end of our driveway at 10pm (this happens, and they’re usually drunk). Out here where there are no streetlights or pollution the night sky is close and enveloping and substantial. The stars are so close, you could swirl them with your fingertips. The city sparkles on the horizon to the south of us, and on the party nights (Friday and Saturdays) it glows like a radioactive blob, presumably until morning.
I don’t often get to do this because the night settles in obviously at one of the busiest times of day in our house, (and I tend to lapse into a coma almost immediately after) but if you sit back with a glass of wine and tilt your head back as far as you can, you see the stars….and then you see another layer of stars. And another layer. And another layer. And a plane going to Melbourne….then one going to Perth. And then one going to Singapore. And then a passing satellite. Without wishing my life away, it’s something I can look forward to every day, if I remember. It calms the savage beast – the one who is now shrieking because the homework has been lost that
I’ve the kids have been working on all week. It strokes my cheek when I most need it because three notes are due tomorrow requiring $9, and I have $4.70 change in my purse. It waits for me, for when I have an opportune moment to lean outside (with a glass of wine – or scotch, because the dog just pulled the bacon for dinner off the kitchen bench) and breathe and look. And there it is: my beautiful starry sky.