When I’m unable to hurry away to the oceanfront and stare at the sea, I stay home and focus on the sky instead. The two actually complement each other very well. They interact with one another constantly, separating the day from the night, ordering the seasons, generating the tides, and producing both the day-to-day weather and the long-term climatic conditions. The natural sciences of oceanography, meteorology, and astronomy are thus intimately intertwined, and we all live with the results. I find the ways in which the elements work together a fascinating aspect of the miracle of Creation. It would be wonderful to spend a lifetime studying these sciences of Nature. Oftentimes, though, I’m content to simply enjoy the view and imbibe the beauty of the sky even without seeing the ocean beneath it, and I can do this without leaving my own neighborhood.
After
many years of waking up for work in the middle of the night, it has become automatic
for me. Thus, from my front porch in the
winter, I can admire the constellation Orion in the southeast and remember
using its premier stars, Rigel and Betelgeuse, for navigation many years
ago. Beneath Orion shines Sirius, the
brightest of the stars. From the back of
my house, I can see Polaris, my favorite star, and the constellations Ursa
Major and Ursa Minor. These stars don’t
photograph well, though, so instead I present two pictures of the Moon.
One
of my favorite celestial bodies, the Moon, when full or nearly so, served me
well at sea by illuminating the horizon so I could take star sights. I really appreciated the Moon, and when I see
it now it reminds me of happy times aboard ship. The Moon also inspires and edifies me as it
fulfills its unique role in the heavens and casts its benevolent influence upon
the Earth. In this first photograph, we
see a full Moon shining through a thin cloud layer in the southwest at 4:38am
on Monday, July 22, 2024:
After
the dawn comes sunrise. Looking east from
the neighborhood ice cream stand, we see the Sun shining through some haze as
it clears the treetops at 6:11am on Sunday, July 28, 2024:
Sometimes I make the hike along the railroad track to the boat ramp on the Merrimack River and watch the day break there. This is perhaps my favorite location in the neighborhood. Its isolation makes it an unpopulated and quiet vantage point in the early hours, well worth the half-hour of walking needed to reach it. In this series of photographs, we witness the dawn of a new day at ten-minute intervals from 4:30am to 5:00am on Sunday, July 21, 2024:
While
the Sun always rises, it is sometimes obscured by fog, a function of relative
humidity, dew point, and a decreasing air temperature. While obviously dangerous for navigation, fog
often has an almost other-worldly beauty that lends a certain mystique to its
surroundings. Such is the case here on
the Merrimack River at 6:35am on Sunday, October 1, 2023:
Much
more popular, however, is the classical fair weather blue sky with billowing
altocumulus clouds such as these in the afternoon of Sunday, August 11, 2024:
Altocumulus clouds come in a variety of sizes and shapes, all of them quite lovely, as this view from Thursday afternoon, July 18, 2024, demonstrates:
Sometimes,
when illuminated from below by the Sun before it has risen above the level of
the trees, altocumulus clouds can almost look like fireworks, as they do here at
5:30am on Sunday, July 7, 2024:
Then there are the colors of twilight. In the right atmospheric conditions, the sky can seem kaleidoscopic in the early dawn. These two eastward views from the playground at 4:56am on Wednesday, June 26, 2024, illustrate the celestial grandeur of my favorite time of day:
As much as I treasure time spent at the oceanfront, and as much as I consider the sea to be a refuge from the sound and fury of our secular society, I also deeply appreciate the easy access to the celestial realm that I have in my own neighborhood. I need not go far to gaze into the heavens and find there a place of peace and quiet, a place of inspiration and edification, a place to witness the supernal splendor of Creation, and a place to find God “moving in his majesty and power” (D&C 88:47).
