Possible Mothership – Photo: L. Weikel

Beam Us Up

As I was driving home late this afternoon I couldn’t help but notice the massive cloud hovering menacingly above a local farm. I have to say, I was moved to pull over and take a photo because I wasn’t sure whether it was going to beam us up and speed away.

It seemed prudent to take a photo of the possible interloper, just in case anyone might want to track us down. Of course, that would mean I’d have to toss my iPhone out before being successfully transported into the spaceship so obviously ‘cloaked’ as a cloud. (And they think they can fool us… Lame.)

That’d be a toss ‘up,’ though. (Yeah, I know. Groan.) If I was beamed up into a spaceship, I can’t imagine chucking my phone out the car window hoping those ‘left behind’ might look at my photos for clues to where I’d been taken. Nah. I’m pretty confident I’d take my phone along. I’m always looking for photos that can spur a blog post. And being abducted could yield some pretty provocative fodder for future posts.

Regardless of your stance on the existence of extraterrestrials, you have to admit that is one weird looking cloud.

A Better Look at the Mothership – Photo: L. Weikel

Draconids

In yet another extraterrestrial vein, I’m frustrated that Karl and I wimped out on taking a walk this evening. Indeed, I’m even more annoyed now that I realize we missed a grand opportunity to see a meteor shower (the Draconids) that are unusual in that they’re best seen in the early evening.

How many times have a stayed up late to watch meteor showers? It has to be at least a dozen times over the years that I’ve been writing this 1111 Devotion. I’m surprised, too, that I’ve never realized that the Draconids are easiest to see in the northwest sky in the early evening.

Jupiter (not tonight) – Photo: L. Weikel

I’d even wandered around in my yard earlier, noticing the astonishingly bright countenance of Jupiter. I even commented to Karl how surprised I was at the clarity of the night sky. But alas, Jupiter was rising in the southeast. My attention was pointed at the exact opposite place in the sky than where we might’ve glimpsed a Draconid or two. Or 500. Oh – no – that may be more likely in 2025.

Maybe we’ll all get lucky and catch a few late-comers if we go outside tomorrow night and look toward the northwest. There’s a chance a few streaks may still fall our way.

I hope so. If you catch a falling star – make a wish.

(T-49)