As most people know, I am a nature lover. And a good part of the natural world is amazing at night, so I try to get out in the wild after dark every now and then. In the winter, I sometimes go out on a moonlight snowshoe trek with friends–the sight of a full moon lighting up endless snow in the mountains always warms my heart and soul enough to risk frostbite on other body parts.

I also occasionally go out to kayak under the full moon. The reflection of moon and stars in the water is always dazzling, and in the right conditions, each swish of a paddle through the water is a glowing swirl, courtesy of bioluminescent organisms in the salt water.  One evening there were meteors, too, seemingly so close that I expected to hear splashes as they crashed into the surface of the bay.

I love those falling stars. Each year, I research the dates for the big meteor showers and make an effort to see them at their predicted peak. This can be quite a gamble in the cloudy Pacific Northwest.

A few nights ago, as I was lying on my back deck trying to catch a glimpse of the Perseid meteors between fingers of clouds, I became aware of how just how busy the sky over my town is these days. I was amazed to see not only a few meteors zipping past (yes, neighbors, that was me yelling “Oh, good one! Yes!”) but also blinking plane lights moving quickly on relatively straight paths and slower objects that seemed to crawl across the heavens, wobbling from point to point.

What the heck are all those crawly things? Galactic pinballs? Satellites? Spaceships? Why can’t they fly straight? What are they doing up there? It was a little creepy, seeing so many “stars” moving around. Whatever they were, there were quite a few, and they look, frankly, a bit out of control.

Some small flying objects lower down were easily identifiable as little brown bats. Then a big thing swooped much closer overhead, blotting out all the lights. It had large wings. I often hear owls in the green belt behind my house, so I’m going to presume it was one of those. As opposed to a winged alien from one of those crawly spaceship things. I love owls; I’m not so sure I’d love an alien from another planet.

It’s an amazing world. If you’re ever feeling bored with the mundane world around you, take the time to go out at night as far away from lights as you can get, lay down on your back, and look up. You might be astounded at how big your world really is.