The Minnesota Farm Woman

The Aurora Borealis, or northern lights, is a phenomena that happens when the gasses of the sun meet the magnetic field of the earth, causing a beautiful display of dancing lights. A gassy collision is not really an apt discription of such ethereal magnificance, but it is the best that I could come up with, not being a scientist.   I have seen these magical lights when I was a child and my father, who WAS a scientist, dragged the whole family outside for the show in the middle of the night.  I wasn’t too receptive back then. I have seen some beautiful Aurora Borealis photographs,  but have wanted to view it in person for some time now and as an adult, when  I would be so much more appreciative of the sight. The reason why I haven’t is that it is usually best viewed in the middle of the night, and I am sound asleep and entirely too slothful to drag myself up and at ’em at  2 a.m. One evening last week was supposed to be prime northern lights viewing  time between 11 p.m. and 2 a.m.  It was all over the news and social media. Even HE asked me if I was going to stay up for the show on a work night, and knowing that I usually fall asleep in front of the TV at nine, I asked him to wake me up. He didn’t, but I woke up at 3:30 a.m. all on my own which is an unfortunate side effect of the aging process.  It was past the prime viewing time, but it wouldn’t hurt to look out the window, so I did, with my faithful companion Barney the Chihuahua at my heels. I couldn’t get a good look through the trees, so Barney and I stepped out on the deck. I was hoping and praying that as we edged out of the Aurora Borealis prime time, that we weren’t edging into the nocturnal skunk prime time, so I moved cautiously, sniffing the air. Barney the Chihuahua did the same. Sure enough, I could see a slight glow above the trees to the north. Getting as excited as I could be for 3:30 in the morning, I grabbed my phone for some pictures and Barney and I jumped into the car and pulled out to the highway, heading north. We were the only souls on the road and thank goodness for that, as I was wearing my pajamas, which are actually an old pair of yoga pants and an oversized tee shirt, along with my comfy bedroom slippers. I only had to drive a half mile when I realized that the lovely glow in the sky was actually the parking lot lights of Cannibal Junction, which is a neighborhood restaurant and bar. Not too ethereal,  but the food is good. Unfortunately, they don’t serve an earlybird breakfast special, so I headed for home and a cup of strong black coffee. Too bad, but this aurora-chasing adventurer still has to work her day job.