Long beyond midnight, I woke to darkness in my cabin. Feeling restless, I swung out from bed and went to glance out the sliding glass door at the elevated deck.
Wow!
All the stars stood atop the forest
of black trees and mountain flanks before me.
Somehow, I had forgotten about the stars. Here in Montana, we have a rare clarity of view
in our night skies—something we often take for granted.
Many years ago, I accompanied a
city kid from the Midwest on a night of partying around Helena. Our last stop of the night found us at a fairly
remote home on the edge of the Helena Valley.
As we stepped outside to leave late in the night, the kid stopped in his
tracks. “Wow!” he said. “Look at that!”
“Look at what?” I asked.
“The stars. They are so bright! And there are so many. Is it always like this?”
“Yeah, of course,” I told him.
“That’s something.”
Upon returning to bed last
night, I found Desiree awake. “Come with
me for a second,” I urged her.
“What for?” she asked.
“I want to show you something
outside.”
Though skeptical, Desiree
followed me out toward the sliding door at the deck. “Step out and look up,” I urged her.
Desiree leaned out the door and
studied the array of stars above us. “Wow,”
she uttered. “Is it like this at home,
too?”
“Yep. As we head into winter you will see a lot
more night and a lot more stars.”
—Mitchell Hegman
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