The Glory of the Stars

Savannah Steel asked about my favorite moments. Just back from a two-week camping trip Out West, I stumbled for an answer. Her question, in the mindset of a Monday morning, caught me off guard. Then I told her about The Stars. Big Guy and I departed our primary stop Glacier National Park, drove two lazy days across Montana, then stopped to camp in the quiet of North Dakota's Theodore Roosevelt National Park.

At each new evening camp, for the first hour, my mind misses the beauty. I see only work: Setting up the camper, the cook stove; finding the bathroom, the water pump; preparing the dinner and pushing through the clean-up.

At Teddy's Park, that is how it went, except for the two wild horses grazing through camp. I would have told Savannah Steel about the horses--but they were out-ranked by the glory of the stars.

On that night, when darkness fully settled, Big Guy and I walked--not hand in hand, but with a nearness to each other.  Big Guy pointed upward. My eyes followed then melted into the richness of jet black velvet scattered with clean white, hard diamonds. Some stars shone so close and bright, I wanted to touch them, to capture them like lightening bugs in a jar. Others stood so faint--so standoffish--I doubted if I really saw them. The Big Dipper stamped its presence, bold and insistent. A multitude of stars unknown to me were layered in time between close and faraway.

I think of stars as souls departed, as spirits who have flown but shine near. On this night, I felt that intimacy and wondered: Is this where Candy Squared, the Lovely Senorita and my dad have gone? Is this where my precious pets--Chuck, June, Smut, and so many more, have moved on to? Are the stars mansions prepared by the Creator?

I left these esoteric thoughts and returned to the business of walking without tripping, of keeping up with Big Guy. But, once seen, the Montana night sky begs not to be forgotten.

This wasn't my first glimpse of the Montana Big Sky, as Savannah Steel reminded me. About 12 years ago, during a work trip, I saw it--an overwhelming bold blue and white by day and magnificent by  night.  Savannah Steel and I both saw the sky during a hot June week of promoting a wheat herbicide. This time, seeing the Sky with Big Guy, at a relaxed pace, was better. But even long ago, between shaking the hands of farmers and swatting mosquitoes, the Big Sky looked pretty darn good.