Starry Starry Night
The cabin porch was saved from destruction by a combination of luck and a skinny, but resilient limb that caught the crushing force of a falling tree . Adam and I spent two hours surgically removing it, section by section, and then finally swinging what was left, still clinging to its upright half, away from the roof. From that tree we crafted a bench on which to sit in front of the fire, and enough firewood to reload the porch area for Ed’s next winter trip. Or our own next Grok Hill visit, whichever comes first.
Yesterday at the lumberyard.I walked in, picked up gate latches and hinges, and then shuffled to the desk to order the stock I needed to build a custom door in the back of an attached garage in Carlisle.
I was helped by Betty, who is small, probably in her forties, and has zero distinguishing features other than her voice. She sounds like Betty Boop — high-pitched and childlike. Betty stopped me somewhere between my ordering plywood and primed pine to complain about this wet weather breeding mosquitoes. I told her I had been camping in New Hampshire, and indeed they were ferocious. To which she said, “Tell me something. I talked to my ophthalmologist, and he said it was the light and not my eyes. Can you really see more stars if you get away from city?â€
I thought to myself, you can see more stars if you leave The Home, but I said, “Of course. The further from the city, the more stars. Try Montana.â€
I left, walked to the yard, loaded my truck, and on the way out I stopped to talk to Watson (known as Georgia – why, I don’t know). Georgia is a gentle-hearted guy with nothing but distinguishing features – from the creases in his face deep enough to plant potatoes, to ears like airplane landing flaps. Georgia retired years ago, but couldn’t tolerate doing nothing, and he’s now back making sure the lumber on your truck matches what’s on your slip.
“Georgia, I won’t mention any names, but someone inside asked me if you can see more stars the further you get from the city. Can you imagine that?â€
Georgia reached up and pulled the bill of his Red Sox hat away from his face, thought for a moment, and replied, “You know, at my house in Littleton, there are so many trees I can’t hardly see any. But if you go to the Walmart in Hudson, New Hampshire, the sky is covered with them.â€
Thanks to Mike & Adam for the tree surgery. Next time I’m up to Grok Hill, I’ll sit on the new bench and drink a toast to the porch savers!
As for seeing stars, you’re right on about going to Montana. But Utah is great too. In a week, the Schmahl family will be looking at Utah’s famed red cliffs, pillars & arches. At night we’ll gaze at the starry firmament and look for comet Neat from the bank of the Colorado river.
Comment by rakkity — May 27, 2004 @ 9:15 am
Touching irony to your tale, Mr. Miller. I suppose it was too much to hope that you could’ve worked in a phrase along the lines of, “there were more mosquitoes than stars……..”. ; >)
Comment by looking up — May 27, 2004 @ 9:54 am
When I was an intern at a kiln in the hill country of southern Japan, the sensei (or “master,” a seventy year old woman) would prompt me to re-tell my story of the falling stars I had seen off the coast of Maine (she of course had no idea where “Maine” was, but she got the main idea). They rained down, I said, like cherry blossoms (firework, by the way, translates as “fiery flower”). Despite her years in this remote hill country she had never seen those streaks across the heavens. So, after ample amounts of sake consumed on a nightly basis, we’d leave her house, which had been built three centuries ago, and look up at the Milky Way and wait, and sing, believe it or not, “Will the Circle Be Unbroken, By and By, Lord, By and By). We never saw a falling star, and I never knew whether her only child, a son, then in his heartbreaking forties, ever married.
The most amazing night sky I’ve ever seen on television was on CNN, captured by a camera with an eery green nightvision lens, focused on helicopters blasting away a suspected hideout on the Afghanistan/Pakistan border. The tracers were no brighter than the background curtain of a glittering heaven. What a sky. What a night.
Of those seen around the camp fire, I thought I noticed some bare arms. Skeets couldn’t have been that bad.
Comment by peter — May 27, 2004 @ 12:49 pm
Eloquent and welcome entry there, The Other Mr. Miller! The skeet ‘splanation is that your brother brought along 2 or 3 kinds of repellent, I another 4, including high frequency sound. The yute mostly shunned our chemicals, though occasionally breaking down out of misery, but Mike’s tiny bottle of 100% DEET trumped all, and while a disconcerting cloud of the evil insects would hover about you looking for your Achilles’ heel, almost none would land.
Comment by mutated — May 27, 2004 @ 1:17 pm
My most memorable night sky was one with few stars. Mostly visible, the Big Dipper, but below, and attempting to fill it with color, Northern Lights. An improbable treat off the coast of Maine on a teeny island called Bottle.
Peter, when I see you next youÃll have to sing “Will the Circle Be Unbroken, By and By, Lord, By and By” in Japanese.
Comment by michael — May 28, 2004 @ 6:14 am
Digital images emailed to the blog from Utah, rakkity?
Comment by michael — May 28, 2004 @ 6:26 am
Peter,
Loved your story, by and by.
And am so happy about your grant, godwilling.
Send us the confirmation letter to post.
Love, an admirer
Comment by starstruck — May 28, 2004 @ 9:00 am