As I do every night, I stepped out onto the deck to whisper down to the boys in the dry lot my wishes for a good night sleep, safety and good health. While much of the country is suffering frigid temperatures, it's 45 degrees here at midnight.
The patchy clouds are doing their best to obscure the waxing moon; determined, she'll have none of that. The storms from the Pacific Northwest are blowing across, committed to a duel with the Cascades; maybe they make it over the mountains to bring us moisture on the eastern side, maybe they don't.
Staring up to find the roadway of millions of stars called the Milky Way, I was mesmerized by the constellation Orion as it appeared to be drifting, detaching from its place high in the southern sky this time of night. The sky started rotating, twirling, floating. The satellites in orbit joined in the play, steadily moving in one direction while the billowy clouds moved opposite.
Unplugged.
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