My biggest problem with viewing the Perseids is that, given they require darkness in order to be observed, it means they happen after my bedtime. At 9:40 Saturday night I was ready to take myself and my book to bed. I wanted to say I had made an effort to see the meteor shower though, so went out the back door to the deck, glanced up at the sky, didn't see anything, and, satisfied I had done my bit, went back inside.
Twenty minutes later Jay came upstairs and expressed surprise that I wasn't going out to look at the sky. You need to know Jay is somewhat of an amateur astronomer, knows every constellation, and before we moved to Richmond owned a very nice telescope. I said I had already looked and there weren't any meteors. I was informed I was looking at the wrong part of the sky. Fine. I reluctantly got out of bed and followed him outside. This is how the rest of the evening went.
"Where?" I ask in confusion, looking at a completely different patch of night sky.
More minutes pass with my head bent back, sending a pain down my neck and into my back, without spotting a single meteor. I have a brilliant idea and go to lie down on the hammock to watch. As soon as I lie down I realize that from that angle the roof of our house is blocking the view of the section of sky I want to see. It is also the the moment Jay calls out, "There's another one!"
I go back to standing, pointing out to Jay that it is easier for him to observe since he is a foot closer to the sky than me. I know this makes no sense, but it was past my bedtime. Then I have another great idea. If I scooted the hammock over to the lawn I could lie down and see the part of the sky where the alleged meteor shower was taking place. Guess what happened as I was busy pulling the hammock onto the grass?
"Wow! Did you see that one! That is the most amazing meteor I have ever seen! It was so bright it almost glowed purple!"
Okay, now I was mad. I decided there was no way I was going to bed until I had seen at least one stupid meteor, which I did about 10 excruciatingly painful minutes later. Who knew sky watching could be such a pain in the neck?
Well, to answer my own question I would have to admit I should have known. I have been watching the sky every day for the last six months. I am now officially halfway down with my Sky Scarf and it is beginning to feel like I am knitting a noose rather than a scarf. I think it will be long enough for one too when it is finished. The thrill of looking at the sky every day at noon and knitting the colours into the scarf started to fade somewhere around the second month. By month four all enthusiasm for the project was gone. Every last little bit. Now, going into month seven I can say the tyranny of this project falls somewhere between shopping and paper work, unpleasant but also unavoidable.
|I need to catch up on weaving in the ends. Sigh...|
There are two things that keep me knitting away. The first is I have a fairly large investment in the yarn I bought for the project. The second is I know I am going to like the finished product. (Well, as long as I don't get tangled up in it and end up strangling myself.) If you look at the bottom part you can see we have had brilliant weather for the last month and a half. Above that is that horrible stretch of weather we had all through June and into the first of July. And I am just weird enough to think that's kind of neat.