sunrise, Holderness, New Hampshire
Concord, New Hampshire
When I lived on the east coast of Scotland, in a tiny university and fishing town, I walked at night (particularly in December when night far outnumbered day) through an open field to my residence. I remember gazing at the stars and night sky from that field, the new, unfamiliar tilt of the constellations I remembered seeing in the American northeast. Yet it was the sea air and early spring flowers I remember, not the night sky.
East Coast of Scotland
In northern Vermont, the stars were bright, particularly in the most rural of areas, but it was the crisp and clean air quality, especially in fall, that I remember best.
Northern Vermont
I live alone and am out in the evening most nights. Occasionally I leave a porch light on, but when I don't, the dark walk between car and house is startling. It's dark and quiet and I don't like it much until I feel safe enough to realize that I know this place and these surroundings. It's then that I look upwards. Nearly every time, the stars are brighter than anything I can remember. But I've noticed too, that the sky is never quite black, no matter how late into the night. It's always a shade of navy. I've tried to figure this out, why it doesn't appear to be the dark sky that I remember or imagine it to be, it's always a little lighter, a little more beautiful and colorful with more stars shining through than I thought possible.
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