50 shades of magenta

Stars fell on Alabama.  I don't know who coined the phrase.  Perhaps it was Carl Carmer, who titled his book just that in the 1930's.  The song was written and recorded not long thereafter.  I'm still partial to Jimmy Buffett's version.  And the slogan would make its way onto license plates in the state back in the early twenty-aughts.

Its origin was in reference to a spectacular--and evidently terrifying--Leonid meteor shower back in 1833.  Some thought the world was ending, as "thousands, even millions" of the meteors streaked across the sky seemingly in every direction for hours, according to a local newspaper report at the time.  Bibles were dusted off, while playing cards and dice were set ablaze.

What a sight it must have been!  (The meteors, I mean.  But I'm sure the incineration of those devices of Satan was pretty cool, too.)

It's one of the first things I thought of as I stood in the backyard Friday evening and stared skyward in something beyond amazement at the northern lights.  Yes, yon aurora borealis.  In Alabama!

The local weather guesstimater had said the best time for viewing would be around 2 a.m.  In my younger years, I might've stayed up to watch.  But not now.  Not in these aged, child-rearing years.

A little after 9:00, as I was easing the sting of the Bruins getting demolished by Florida with several sips of Rebel Cask Strength, I received a text from my dear momma: "Go outside look north and see the northern lights."

It took a bit for my eyes to adjust.  At first, I thought I saw a few streaks of red, maybe some purple, but couldn't be sure.  Then I looked more northwestward.  And oh my!  It looked like the glow of city lights, except in fifty shades of magenta, purple, and green.

I pictured those early settlers, panicked, running thru the streets, wasting perfectly good dice.  Just then, I heard some commotion coming from across the road.  I peered over the fence to see the neighbor scurrying thru the subdivision in his wife-beater, whilst wearing a headlamp.

Now normally, I wouldn't have thought anything of it.  He is known to drink and partake in certain illegal substances.  But on this night, I found it more than coincidental.  Maybe he didn't know about the northern lights.  Maybe he thought the aliens had finally landed, and he was off to hunt them.  I chuckled as I thought to myself, "Not all heroes wear capes."

Anyhow, I quickly returned to the spectacular view, grabbing my phone to take a few pictures.  And I wished they'd had cell phone cameras back in 1833.  Mrs. Bone came out and sky-gazed with me for a bit.  I regret not waking the kids.  We considered it.  Luke, especially, would have loved it...

It is Saturday now.  The cat prowls and kids play beneath the river birches. Mom comes over for an early Mother's Day supper.  She plays soccer with Luke, while Harper and I snuggle in the hammock.  Mrs. B cooks fried okra, squash casserole, macaroni & cheese, and collard greens.  The garden has sprouted.  The grass is freshly mown.  I hear the 13-year and 17-year cicadas on my evening walk/run.

There's so much ugly in the world.  So much hate, anger, and violence.  It is good to be reminded there is still immeasurable beauty to be found.  A lot of times in your own backyard.

Like the night the northern lights shone on Alabama.

I just wish Jimmy Buffett had still been alive to see them.