Skyward :: June 10th, 2002 ::
![[looking skyward]](/stufola/vt2002/skyward.jpg "[looking skyward]")
It is with a stiff neck and an overpowering distraction by all things overhead that I write this entry. It seems that I’ve spent a signficant amount of time in the past two days looking upward, watching weather patterns, circling scanvanger birds, jet contrails, and constellations of stars as they circumnavigate the tail star of Ursa Minor, as if on some cosmic merry-go-round. All of it seems to have started two days ago.
Two days ago, I sat on the back porch, reading a book and swatting away black fies, when I heard a strange — I might even say exotic — cawing coming from overhead. I looked up and found what looked to be two large crows, gliding in circles. They were screaming, alternately at each other, and at what seemed to be some sort of smaller bird, which seemed to be attacking each other. I thought to myself, “those aren’t crowes. Crows flap their wings. Crows don’t fly in circles like that.” I watched them, as they continued to caw and cackle, continued to move slowly away from me, continually higher, until they disappeared behind some low clouds.
Watching planes bank and continue on their routes, I think of what it must be like for those people in that plane as they look over this anonymous, green piece of land, not knowing that I am down here, thinking of them.
I’ve been learning the constellations ever so slowly. using Casseopeia as a base of reference, I am now able to find Cepheus, and if I follow the arch of the Milky Way I can usually point out Cygnus, Lyra, Aquilla, and sometimes even Saggitarius. This makes me so proud. Using the old trick of following the line made by two of the stars that make up the bowl of the big dipper, I can find the North Star, and it is around this point that the all of the circular theatrics of these geometric shapes happens.
At least I think that’s the way it works.
So if you want to find me, look for the guy walking around with his nose pointed skyward. I’ll look down to catch myself when I’m about to trip over a crack in the sidewalk or maybe some errant dog; and I’ll definitely look down to say hello.
