Southern Lights

Yvonne and I have always wanted to see the spectacular Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights, but traveling to Canada, Alaska, Iceland, or some other frosty location in the middle of winter seemed impractical and possibly not much fun. 

Plus, there’s no guarantee of a sighting.   

As a result, we were stunned and thrilled when, for reasons I don’t begin to understand, we learned that the Northern Lights would be visible last weekend over Nashville, our home. Somehow we had missed hearing about Friday, but on the front page of Saturday’s newspaper we saw the photo above. 

Yvonne leaped into action, finding a hotel for Saturday night in a big, open area south of town where viewing would be good. We threw together a few things and headed south to see the Northern Lights.

Mother’s Day

I can hear you now: Wait a minute. Wasn’t last weekend Mother’s Day? 

Yes, it was. 

And yes, dreams of the Aurora Borealis, squeezed into a hotel suite south of Nashville along with Yvonne, our daughter Maggie, and me, all made for a strange and unusual Mother’s Day Eve. But we were ready. Everything was planned and prepared. 

The lights didn’t show up.

After ideal conditions on Friday night, the Saturday conditions changed, and the result was an ink-black sky—no hint of color, either to the naked eye or through a camera lens. 

The next morning, on Mother’s Day, we packed up and headed home. This year, as with every other year, we would provide our own light.