A dark Hill Country sky, a new moon and a little patience finally deliver a memorable night.
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The stage was set for the summer meteor show of a lifetime. We were going to be out in the Hill Country, in dark-sky country, on the peak night of the Perseids meteor shower, and there was going to be a new moon that night.
Now, my track record when it comes to meteor showers hasn’t been great. There was the time I committed to waking up at 2:30 a.m. to catch one of the winter meteor showers at its peak. One of the boys wanted me to wake him up so he could see it, too. I did and we put out a blanket and got under a sleeping bag on a cold, clear night to see the show.
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It turns out when you’re facing the opposite direction the meteors are coming from, you have a much lower chance of seeing anything.
Or the time we were out in the country during the peak night of the Perseids a few years ago. At 10 p.m. the sky was clear, but I wanted to wait until after midnight and delayed going outside. By the time we went out, the full moon had risen and washed out the sky in a beautiful, shooting-star-concealing, silver light.
But this year was going to be different.
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I made it known to the boys I was sitting out and stargazing on the peak night even if that meant I had to stay up until the wee hours of the morning. Several of the boys have never seen a meteor, and two of them are interested in astronomy, so there was a general interest in the family.
I checked all the details. The sky was going to be clear, the new moon meant there was no moonlight to wash out the sky, and I knew both the direction to face as well as which direction that was at the cabin we were staying in.
Everything I read said it was best to wait until after midnight as the meteors would appear higher in the sky after that. But shortly after 10 p.m. I ran a scout mission. Within 15 seconds of stepping out of the cabin, I saw a fantastic white falling star. And that was even before my eyes had adjusted to the dark!
I was excited and told the family (minus the two youngest who were asleep) that the show had started. We gathered in front of the cabin, gazing up at that natural canopy of glittering stars. And then nothing happened.
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Or rather, there were several minutes of delay before someone spotted a faint meteor streaking by. Tired and bored, two of the boys immediately bailed. Then another meteor shot by! But it turned out to be only a lightning bug.
As I sat there waiting for more meteors, I realized that fireworks have sort of ruined stargazing.
Fireworks are like watching two high-powered college football offenses play, and stargazing is like watching a baseball game that ends 1-0. If you’re a baseball fan, you know that’s not in any way a knock on baseball. There’s a lot of anticipation and sudden excitement, and that’s part of what makes it fun. Stargazing is the same.
But if you show up thinking the sky is going to be exploding like the Fourth of July, you’re going to be disappointed.
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Which is too bad. Because as the night wore on, the meteor shower got better. The 8-year-old saw his first meteor, and it was a great one with a tail and everything. But he was tired, and my wife was tired, and they headed in. They just missed the meteor that split into two as it fell, as the 13-year-old will tell you.
The 11-year-old made it until almost midnight and saw at least a dozen. He went in when he got cold, which may be the first time anyone has been cold outside in the middle of August in Texas.
I kept vigil for another hour or so. I saw at least seven impressive, streaking meteors with bright tails. You can (allegedly) see 60 to 100 shooting stars per hour at the peak of the Perseids. I didn’t calculate minute by minute, but I think I was closer to one every three to five minutes.
Which is definitely good enough for me to call it the best meteor shower I’ve ever seen. And sitting out there in dark-sky country on a breezy and (almost) cool summer night, it’s easy to see why we’ve been looking up at that sky for millennia.
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“The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.” Psalm 19:1
Harris and his wife live in Pflugerville with their seven children. Please email comments or suggestions for future columns to thoughtsforcaleb@gmail.com.
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