Flashing through the night

Last week I spent about an hour outside late one cold night watching the Geminid meteor shower. It was a thrilling display -- astronomers predicted after midnight as many as 130 meteors might be seen each hour.

I don't know how many I saw, but it could have easily been a hundred or more. Most were little pinpricks of light, gone almost before my mind had registered seeing them. Some were brighter, arcing across large swaths of the sky, their tail giving off a bright glow. And a few were even larger -- one streaked through the darkness, broke in two, each piece then speeding onward. Even after the meteor had vaporized, two greenish-yellow tails remained visible for several seconds.

I couldn't help but be in awe. Depending upon their origin these meteors had been floating in space for thousands to millions of years, just chunks of metal and rock drifting for millions upon millions of miles. Then last week they collided with earth and gave off a brief but brilliant display.

I am a relatively young person, hopefully with most of my life ahead of me. I just started what I hope is a long and successful writing career. I most definitely don't want to flash quickly and then be gone like so many of those Geminids. However long this lasts -- both my life and my writing career -- I hope it leaves a brilliant, beautiful trail that others will enjoy for years to come.

Playing in the rain

When's the last time you played in the rain? Splashed in a mud puddle?

I did Sunday. The weather had been misty off and on all day and the skies opened up shortly after dark. I couldn't help myself -- I took off, running down the dirty old lane where my house sits.

I live outside of town, isolated in what the real estate agent called a "rustic cabin" but many people would call a shack. That's okay. I'm not hung up on labels. It's a solid, good house that's looking kind of drab, though I'm brightening it up little by little.

Like I said, it's isolated, on an old dirt road that eventually ends at a creek. When the rainfall began I jumped up and ran -- no flashlight, no illumination of any kind -- just me, the rain and the dark.

That's when I found the big old mud puddle. I stumbled when I passed through, and for a moment had visions of sliding face-down across the mud. Thankfully I regained my balance, then returned to the puddle and danced and jumped and had a grand old time.

Soon my clothes were plastered to me like a second skin. I didn't care. I felt like a kid, and I can't wait for another storm.

Go ahead, give it a try. Next time it rains in your part of the world, go outside. Take a walk, a run, skip along, and if you're lucky enough to find a puddle or two stomp in them. Splash the water. And remember what it was to be a kid.