Gathering Light

A heron paints the night sky and other gleamings in the dark

Dear Ones,
In the midst of all the news, all the violence, all the pain, all the anxiety, all the grief, and all the hard edges of being human, I am here gathering light in the night to bring you glimpses of beauty hidden in the darkness.

A week ago during the new moon I tried to photograph the Milky Way, but my neighbors, who were hosting a family gathering, had on their flood light that illuminates the beach, and all that light in a long exposure drowns out any but the brightest stars. While standing on the beach, I heard the call of a Great Blue Heron and the flap of its wings as it flew low over my head, out over the water and then turned toward the neighbor’s beach, which is a favorite night fishing spot for herons. I knew the bird was traveling through my frame and was curious what I might see of it in the image. And what I saw was not flesh and feathers, but ribbons and ruffles of light across the sky. My guess is that the trail of light is caused by the artificial light reflecting off the heron’s feathers, in the same way that we see satellites by light reflecting off their surfaces. Whatever the science behind the phenomenon, I love the mystery of the image, as if the heron had not only gone toward the light, but had become nothing but light and spirit itself.

Three Views from Last Night

In case you haven’t already figured it out, I’m passionate about photographing the night sky. As my skills have increased, I’ve come up against the limits of my equipment, and so I splurged invested in a new camera and a new-to-me lens. There’s a joke in the night sky photography community that buying new gear means that the weather will be terrible — clouds, rain — and folks will have to wait days or weeks to try out their new purchases. My camera arrived yesterday on the one clear day and night we’ve had in more than a week. Not only was I able to photograph the Milky Way in the southwestern sky at 8 p.m. with more clarity than ever before, I was also able to photograph star trails between and 9 and 10 p.m. (Star Trails are caused by the earth rotating past the stars). The sky to the north was suspiciously pink in my 100 30-second exposures for the star trails, and sure enough, the Aurora Borealis made a definite, though subtle, appearance just after midnight. I was up editing some of my photos from earlier in the evening and stepped outside to complete the trifecta.

Milky Way: This is a single exposure and I'm thrilled with the detail and clarity I was able to pull out of the foreground in editing thanks to my new equipment (Canon EOS R8 and Rokinon 24 mm f/1.4 lens). Notice also just to the left of the Milky Way cloud near the horizon is the Dark Horse Nebula— it looks like horse up on its hind legs.

Star Trails: The atmosphere became very dewy while my camera was photographing for an hour and the lens got wet, so the image is exceptionally blurry. (Next task: learn how to use a lens heater.) Notice the band of yellow and pink above the peak of the Brothers Mountain which is directly north, the hint of aurora along with the pink reflected in the water.

Aurora Borealis: Subtle glow with the faintest pillars reflected in the bay along with exposed oyster beds as the tide recedes, and fog settling in the Canal to the north.

All these photos were taken outside my home on the Hood Canal. It’s an incredible gift and blessing to live in a location with so much natural beauty, both day and night. And it’s one of my great joys to share these riches with you.

I say goodnight by way of a poem (listen and/or read below).

Aswirl

That we are here swirling
inside our galaxy awash
in light ancient is beyond
my comprehension is more
than miracle. That we exist
in the embodied both/and
at once minuscule and incandescent,
that we exist here together
at all despite everything
is beyond any language
I possess. All I can do
is lift my hands
in silent wonder.

–Cathy Warner