August 30, 2022

Photo from https://pawilds.com/the-wonder-of-our-pa-wilds-dark-skies/

 
"In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. 
 And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night."
- The Little Prince, Antoine Saint-Exupéry

In July 2016, Scott and I drove to a dark sky reserve at Cherry Springs State Park in northern Pennsylvania. Scott had mentioned a few months earlier that he wanted to see the Milky Way, and I thought it would be a fun trip to do together. Cherry Springs was the nearest dark sky reserve, far away from towns and other sources of artificial light, and we picked a summer weekend that coincided with a new moon for optimal viewing conditions. We brought a picnic dinner, arrived before sunset to find a spot on the stargazing field, and waited for night to fall. There were about 100 people on the field, but it was large enough that there was plenty of space for all of us to spread out. As the sky darkened, we could no longer see the other people on the field but we could hear their chatting and murmuring around us. In the distance someone played Beatles songs on his guitar. Occasionally we saw flashes of red light from people entering and leaving - only red light was allowed on the stargazing field to preserve night vision.

At first we could see only a few stars. The first to come out was Vega, and then Mars and Saturn, which we identified with the help of the handy Sky Guide app. Then more constellations appeared, including the Big Dipper, Scorpio, and Cassiopeia. Then suddenly it seemed as if the entire sky was filled with stars, far more than either of us had ever seen before. The Milky Way swirled above us, with Cygnus (The Swan) flying along it. Seeing the Milky Way and the innumerable stars was an unexpectedly and profoundly moving experience for both Scott and me. It felt like we were looking through a giant lens at the vastness of the universe. Some of the visible stars were thousands of light-years away. Scott and I lay on that stargazing field that night, holding hands and filled with wonder at the beauty of it all. 

Last weekend, I returned to Cherry Springs to see the Milky Way again. Scott had wanted to see the Milky Way again this summer, but we never had the chance. After he passed away, I decided that I still wanted to go to honor his memory, and if I'm being honest, to see if I might feel a little bit closer to him. Tracy came with me, and just like last time I packed a picnic dinner and some warm layers since Cherry Springs is in the mountains and gets cold at night, even in the summer. As the sun set and the sky darkened, we saw Vega, and then Saturn, and then the other constellations. Jupiter rose in the east. The Milky Way appeared, faintly at first, but then brighter until it spanned all the way across the night sky. I had read that under ideal conditions, the Milky Way can cast a shadow. I mentioned this to Tracy as we were eating dessert, and we looked down and saw that it was true! On a side note, if you ever have the chance to enjoy Krispy Kreme doughnuts in the starlight of the Milky Way, I highly recommend it.

So did I feel closer to Scott there? To be honest, I didn't. I think the reason may be that I still feel close to him a lot of the time, although it's not the same as when he was here in person. The Milky Way and the universe were vast and humbling and awesome, but it also felt cold and remote. Scott still feels like he's just in the next room, or with me in my heart and mind, instead of "out there." I don't know how long that feeling will last; I'm in no rush to move on. 

Apart from starlit doughnuts, I did experience something new on this trip to Cherry Springs - a meteor shower. The meteors came about every 10 minutes and one blazed so brightly that I was able to see it even though my eyeglasses happened to be off at that moment. Tracy was half napping and half stargazing on the picnic blanket and the meteors came too quickly for me to point them out before they were gone. But as we were walking off the field, we turned back to look at the glittering night sky one last time, and right at that moment a meteor shot through the sky that we both saw. 

There is still beauty in this world, and while we miss Scott very much and wish he could be with us in person, I'm grateful that I was able to share a new adventure with Tracy that night.

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