Catch a falling star

I grew up fascinated by the night sky. I knew many constellations early and the planetarium in Denver was a favorite outing. My parents were responsible for broadening my field of interest. But in Junior High School, one of my professors introduced us to the stars close up. He lived in a highrise with a roof deck and had a quality personal telescope.
After moving to Oklahoma right after marriage I found myself under dark skies hampered only by humidity – and mosquitoes. Eventually, life and child raising crowded out the sky at night.
In August of 1983, I found myself under a clear, bright, active sky. A divorced mom, I belonged to a Christian singles group who sponsored a canoe trip. A dear friend waited to transport me, knowing I got off work late and my old car might not make it. That night after setting up tents, eating supper and taking turns in the shower house, everyone, about 60 of us, settled in to bed. My friend was still up and I hadn’t yet wound down from the day, so we struck up a conversation. We weren’t a ‘couple’, but we were interested in going that direction whether we admitted it or not.
I’d seen a lot of shooting stars as a child. I knew about wishing on them and had been duly taught to call them meteors. I knew a meteorite was a piece that made it all the way to the ground. Somehow I missed the information about meteor showers.
That night in August, I watched, with my friend, my first meteor shower. I’d never seen so many in all my life. I didn’t know about the Perseid or any other for that matter. It was magical. It was the first of many we would watch over the next decades. A little over a year later, we married. Since that night, I’ve become acquainted with all the major, many of the moderate and some of the minor showers. I’ve investigated their origins and histories and I have a link to a very efficient meteor observing site on my favorites. We’ve often gone to some high, clear vantage to watch, sometimes just the two of us, sometimes in a group.
Two and a half years ago, we moved into a house with a large back yard. The first 50 feet are flat, treeless, and blocked from city lights. Right after we moved in, we bundled up and sat out to watch the Geminid. After years with no sky access at home, I was ecstatic. We’ve since put in a pool, but still have plenty of space for observing.
For the past week, I’ve observed at least one hour per night – generally 4AM to 5 or 5:30AM. After about an hour, the mosquitoes discover me and it turns into a self pummeling. There’s also the humidity, which worsens the light pollution. I had hoped to get into a darker sky this year, for it promised to be a good one with the moon at new phase and the sky clear. My husband had to work today, so we stayed put.
In preparation for the big night, I checked out a couple of our tents, but the screen openings were far too small for a good view. I was considering constructing something when my husband pulled out a cot sized mosquito net enclosure we had purchased when a local outfitter retired and closed his shop. We put it up last evening using telescoping poles from our camping equipment and rebar. It only encloses one cot. I’ll have to construct a larger one for future shows.
The show was a fine one, sans mosquitoes, though I began dozing off a little before three and lost it about four. I was somewhat sad to be watching alone, (except for a curious cat and a very persistent dog) but I didn’t really feel lonely, not with all the memories and stars surrounding me. And, because I believe God created all that beauty, I know he was watching with me.