random thoughts – Day 1,514 – (Saturday) – aurora

Friday saw a “severe solar storm” geomagnetic event. According to some news and weather sources, it was the biggest in the US since the 1930s.  

Aurora coverage.

I heard about it early in the day and remembered to mention it to my friends when we were out for drinks after work. The sky was surprisingly clear, considering most events happening overhead are blocked by near-100% cloud cover parked over my yard. Lunar eclipse? Nope, cloudy. Meteor shower? Nope, cloudy. Space station? Starlink? Nope, nope. Not for you my dear (followed by heavenly maniacal laughter).

The Aurora app was downloaded, which offers an Aurora map, alerts, "best locations now," and live webcams from around the globe. Various posts on social media suggested that 10:00pm – 3:00 am was the likely visibility window, and around 10:00 I was on my deck, forsaking the latest offerings on Netflix and craning my neck skyward, bobbing and weaving to see around trees and all the houses in the immediate area which are taller than mine. It isn’t even a tiny shred of exaggeration when I say that all of the houses around mine are taller – by one to two stories plus attic space. The only structure on my end of the street that is shorter than my house is my shed.

Aurora in the news

Looking in the direction towards Dracut where the sun sets and the little fingernail clipping of the moon was hanging out, there was a hint of maybe pink in the sky. I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t think to check it with my camera. Back inside, my Facebook feed soon began exploding with Aurora images, mostly deep pinks and reds, and the helpful note from a fellow banker photographer that it is more visible in photos. I went back outside, camera app opened, ready to witness the splendor.

Friends in another county who have a big yard and are free from city lights were texted, and soon they were sharing dozens of beautiful photos of the Aurora from their own deck. Meanwhile, at my deck, there was nothing. A dark sky. A sliver of moon. Smoke from the next door neighbors' recently established weekly pyro-fest where cars regularly block the street and my driveway and they stand and sit around a wood fire pit in a sliver of the yard between the house and the embankment to Beaver Brook. 

I fled the house, the neighbors, and their smoke to take a drive around town, hoping for a higher vantage point or someplace more open. The drive in search of Aurora took me into Dracut and back into Lowell, then up Christian Hill near the reservoir. I don’t really like driving, and it’s boring as hell alone with no set destination and nobody to talk to or to help with navigation, so it felt like quite a lot of effort. If I’d had a companion, and said companion said, “hey, let’s go to the beach (or Timbuktu or Hell or wherever) and see if we can see it,” we would have hit the highway immediately. As it was just me, I went back home.

My Facebook feed was blowing up with Aurora images by then. Photos were being posted on a local weather site from nearby Dracut, Dunstable, and Chelmsford. Friends living in New Hampshire, Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama, and Washington State were sharing photos and posts. 

One of my many identical Aurora photos.

Around 11:30, the Severe Weather Updates Facebook page declared that 90% of the United States could see the Aurora. Ninety percent of the country, except me. I saw not a frigging thing. Not with my own eyes, and not with my cell camera on every setting it has. All was dark nothingness, like the void where my heart should be, as I was informed on more than one occasion by a couple exes.

I wish I could say not seeing Aurora was a surprise, but a half-century plus of missing out on things for one reason or another has taught me a lot, but I keep trying, so there is that. It was also not a surprise, and I kind of hate to admit it, that I was feeling my own little personal solar storm of envy, and it wasn’t nearly as pretty as Aurora.  

random thoughts – Day 1,513 – (Friday) – friday drinks

Friday couldn’t arrive quickly enough. The weather thing on my phone showed cloudy weather through next Wednesday, which was depressing-ish, but hey, at least it was Friday. Even better, the clouds sleared during the day and the sun even came out.

Every workday this week was extra hard and annoying, and not just for me. It seems it was widespread across my department and in a few others. Oy. 

Drinks.

Despite the aggravation and stress there was something to look forward to through it all. A couple colleagues and I had plans to go for drinks after the day’s toil was done, so the idea of a drink and supper kept us all  going. 

Just after 5:00, we headed to LaLa Books for a quick visit, then next door to Warp & Weft. It was quiet enough for talking, and busy enough to feel like the place had something going on. 

It was a real pleasure to sit and chat for a couple hours. We covered lots of ground – vacation plans; home gardens; pets; things other people did during the pandemic like baking bread and new hobbies that we missed on due to working through the whole thing; and how our bodies keep finding new ways to turn on us with each passing year and the horror of hearing “at your age” and “for your age” and all the other horrible variations. It was all very therapeutic. And delicious.

Arriving home after 8:00, it was still light out and the clouds from earlier in the day had moved out. News reports indicate potential aurora visibility due to some solar activity that I don’t fully understand, but with luck, I’ll remember to go outside and look.

random thoughts – Day 1,512 – (Thursday) – seasons

Pink petal snow season.

It’s the confluence of several seasons in Lowell. It’s finally full-blown spring, and with it, the spring event season of galas, receptions, lectures, and all manner of things that can require some schedule juggling. Then there are the events for the younger set – sports, proms, dance recitals, and graduations.

Graduation season also means photo season at my neighborhood university -- University of Massachusetts Lowell North Campus. Several days this week, I've spotted various people wearing caps and gowns who have posed on the bridge, on the lawns, and at the stone marker with the school name carved into it that sits near some trees on the corner. ‘Tis the season. 

Today, I patiently waited my turn in traffic for the green light that would allow passage across the big intersection and over the bridge to downtown. Two people in caps and gowns at the corner to my right patiently waited for the red hand to transform into the magical white walking stick figure to signify it was their turn to cross the street. 

Photos at the marker season.

On the corner to my left, six more cap and gown people waited on the sidewalk for their turn for photos at the marker where a group of girls in dresses and white satin shawls were being photographed. As the traffic light finally turned green, the cluster of dresses finished their phots and disbursed, making room for the cap and gown squad.

Further down the street, delicate pink petals fluttered in the breeze from the flowering tree that lives between City Hall and Pollard Memorial Library. The petals landed on the lawn like a light dusting of flower snow. The season of petal snow is lovely. 

More books.

The library was my destination, specifically, the Meet the Author event with Allegra Goodman, who talked about being a writer, her various books, and read excerpts from her book Sam. It was interesting hearing about how she gets ideas for characters, choosing a point of view for stories, and conducting research.

There was a colorful cheese and fruit board, and a variety of tasty passed hors d’oeuvres. In the crowd were familiar faces from the many art exhibit receptions and non-profit fundraisers. And of course, there were books for sale and of course I bought books, because how could I not. That’s kind of how I roll.

random thoughts – Day 1,511 – (Wednesday) – life stink

Today stunk a little bit. Literally. It’s week two, maybe three of the delightful stretch of time where I can smell and taste cigarette smoke, where none exists. In the house. In the car. At work. All in my head.

Lilac fresh.

It happens two or three times a year, but I’m not really sure because it’s not the sort of thing I’ve tracked like a scientist, even though I now wish I had. The smell and flavor are gross. But when I watch episodes of Sex and the City with character Carrie Bradshaw chain smoking, it’s more of an immersive experience, like I’m really there with her, inhaling the noxious output of her tobacco death sticks.

To further enhance the fragrance of current life, this morning, after running the coffee maker, the house smelled like scorched coffee. Or maybe it was just me. I may never know for sure. 

While staring out the kitchen window and admiring the lilacs across the yard, I decided to cut some. The lopper tool was used to reach the tallest stems, and a dozen were cut, which I know because I seem to count everything. Bleeding hearts were snipped from the overgrown plant near the shed to add to the blue glass water pitcher with the lilacs and for a stem vase for the narrow kitchen window sill.

Bleeding hearts.

The fragrance of lilacs wafted through the air, creating an intoxicating (or maybe it was nauseating) blend of actual lilac with undertones of actual scorched coffee, permeated with the phantom smell of cigarette smoke lodged in my nose, throat, and mouth. I hoped that when I returned from the office, the scales would tip to favor the lilac and eliminate the scorched coffee.

After a day tainted by the inner cranial stench of smoke, but free of the added aroma of burnt coffee, I concluded the coffee smell of the morning was probably a real thing and limited to home. Back at home, the aroma of lilac greeted me as I opened the door. With hints of burnt coffee. The flowers looked pretty but droopier than they did in the morning. Maybe the real smell of burnt coffee wore them out. I know how much the smoke smell is wearing on me. I just wish I knew how it will last this time. Or better yet, how to make it stop.

random thoughts – Day 1,510 – (Tuesday) – stress and relief

Another first Tuesday of the month, another rejuvenating Boozy Book Club meeting. The book (Salvage the Bones) was a bit heavy, as in, definitely not a lighthearted rom com, but well written with likeable characters.

Beer and book.

I like that book club meetings are relatively predictable with a start time, an end time, and a designated topic. All my social interactions might benefit from that structure. There is a core group of us, and I always look forward to seeing everyone. Sometimes, like tonight, the group is larger, and it is fun to have more points of view and meet a few new people. 

Whatever the group size, the conversation is always sure to be interesting and the food is always delicious. Tonight we shared sweet potato fries, fried pickles, tater tots, and two flatbread pizzas (vegetable and Margherita). Yum. I planned ahead for the snackage by having a salad for lunch. My beer selection for the evening was a dark and delicious Whoopie Pie Stout from SoMe Brewing Co. 

The brief but enjoyable hour of book club was the perfect antidote to a busy and frustrating workday. Short-notice requests are blowing in like a sandstorm, and few of them have an earlier model that can be updated quickly. It was suddenly feeling overwhelming. 

By noon, it felt like a full week had passed and I was wishing I could just run away from my desk. Like, tie up my debit and credit cards in a red bandanna on the end of a stick, start whistling a tune (first, I need to learn how to whistle), and hop a train or a plane or a bus to anywhere but there at that block of head-splitting time. 

Book club washed off all that grit and dust. There is stress relief to be found, and it doesn't have to be expensive or complicated. Sometimes you just need to show up for the scheduled diversions.

random thoughts – Day 1,509 – (Monday) – mow job

Before the mowing.

The first mow of the year is in the books, and for parts of the yard, not a moment too soon. Along the back of the house from the point of the now peeling bulkhead to the property line at the deck, clumps of greenery grew thick and tall. Maybe a foot high, give or take.

The back yard has become extra uneven as half of the paver squares have sunk and the grass and other greenery have grown over them. It used to be manageable keeping up with trimming the growth back, but last summer’s rain and minimum time spent in the yard let it really get away from me. It may now require professional help. It’s on the list. It’s a long list. Long enough to make apartment living feel luxurious.

After the mowing.

Beyond the rugged section the rest of the yard was mostly manageable. The thicket delivered an extra special arm workout with shoving the mower forward and through it. Tall, wispier clumps remain next to the foundation, stairs, and along the fence, illustrating the ongoing need for a string trimmer.

A trimmer is on the list of “someday I’ll get one of those” items, I just never remember to actually shop for one. I don’t hang out in the orange or blue big box home stores as much as I used to when I would trick myself into thinking that maybe I’d meet a nice guy there. That is also how I used to trick myself into leaving the house at all, but now I don’t care anymore.

The conditions were perfect for mowing – partly cloudy, not too warm, not too buggy. The electric mower is less temperamental and much faster than the old gas mower. It went quickly enough that for a nanosecond I entertained the idea of going to the gym. Then the idea flitted away in favor of spending more time outdoors.

Potted purple petunias.

A second attempt was made to dig out the clump of irises next to the shed. This year’s super cheap trowel, bought last week, nearly snapped in the effort. The big pointy shovel was in the shed, locked after storing the lawn mower and the key was in the house. Project Iris clump was abandoned in favor of potting two purple petunias which are now on the front steps, at least temporarily.

random thoughts – Day 1,508 – (Sunday) – rainday

The trees are still flowering along the Sunday morning route out of Lowell. The ride today had some extra elements. There was what seemed like an abundance of unalived opposums in the road. There was almost an incident involving my vehicle and a squirrel who doubled back after getting halfway across the road, but it was narrowly averted. Later, a bright red fox dashed across the road in front of me, but it was on a mission and kept running in a predictable path.

More buds than ever.

There were police directing traffic for the antique engine show I forgot was happening despite seeing the sign for a few weeks, but it didn’t create a slowdown. Newer signs along the road in Pepperell indicate there is a motorcycle ride on May 19 that I’ll be glad to avoid because I’ll be at the Lowell General Hospital TeamWalk for Cancer Care that morning.

There were no cinco de Mayo activities in my day. It was a regular Sunday (rain and all), and the afternoon was occupied with salad making (and eating), TV watching, and laundry. A trip was made to the back yard to set a fence cap back. They are often knocked off by the squirrels as they run along the fence top. 

The lilac has more buds than ever, and they are on the brink of fully blooming. It really seems to have settled in, just as I'm thinking it might need to be dug up and moved to accommodate a shed replacement. 

As I watched TV from the couch, Kiki watched me from the comfort of her little hidey bed under the buffet in the adjoining dining room. I could see part of her face and one eye in the opening. I hope her studies of the Sunday activities indicate that there is no risk to her and maybe she can start reducing her distance.

Monday is trash day, so Sunday includes wastebasket and litter box duty. Once I began cleaning the litter box, Kiki vacated her little fort and headed behind the couch. Maybe she was embarrassed to see me cleaning her poop. Usually she isn't around when I tend to her box.

Lake Lafayette is high in the rain.

The trash bag was readied and the gutter over the front door dripped on my head as brought it to the barrel. I’m pretty thoroughly over the entire idea of rain at this point. The barrel wasn’t rolled to the curb because the level was high at Lake Lafayette at the foot of the driveway. It glowed with the evening lights. 

The lake puddle is usually too deep to walk through in regular shoes and I wasn’t in the mood to pull out the rain boots just for that. If the puddle is smaller in the morning, it will be rolled out then. If not, oh well. The usual half bag of trash doesn’t take up much room in the bin.