If anyone in the immediate neighborhood had looked out their window shortly before midnight last night, they might have seen a woman standing in the center of the street in the middle of a lightning storm, wearing only a long tank top and her underwear. That was me.

I had been lying in bed in the dark, enjoying the stormy, rather wild light show going on outside the window, when a text came through from a friend – “Omg i can see the northern lights!! Did u see? Look North. It’s them!” At the moment she happened to be sitting over 150 miles south of where I was. I figured she was most likely getting a version of the same crazy lightning storm we were instead, because it was cloudy and this state is probably too far south for the lights. But she insisted the incredible and strange, soft pink glow with ongoing flashes was the Aurora Borealis caused by solar storms that had been mentioned in the news. In addition, one of our local neighbors had sent her a video of what was happening up here, which she then forwarded to me. Which still looked like the lightning storm, but she was so excited that I stopped insisting otherwise, not wanting to rain on her magic.

Well, I love intense weather. And just in case there really was an Aurora, I would welcome the opportunity to see one again. So even though I was pretty sure this was just a very visual lightning storm, I had to go check it out.

Way back in the days of my early twenties, I was making one of a few cross-country drives with my Then-Boyfriend and later Then-Husband, mentioned previously in this blog as “Howie”. Late at night after the first leg of the drive, we stopped at a road-side motel somewhere in Ohio to get some rest. It was a rather cold night. After settling into the room, Howie went out to grab something from the car, only to quickly come back in saying, “Come outside, you’ve got to see this!”. I was really tired and very ready for sleep. I didn’t want to leave the room and go back out into the cold. But he kept insisting, so finally I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside behind the motel, which faced a field and a very black sky. As my eyes adjusted, I could suddenly see shifting curtains of shimmering light, glowing in electric green – the mesmerizing and awesome Northern Lights. We stood there for a while and watched them. But then, foolish and cold twenty-something me wanted to just go back in the room and get some sleep, not totally comprehending the rare gift of such a sighting.

The vision of it has never left me though. Many decades later, I had asked Howie if he remembered seeing the Aurora Borealis over the field behind the motel in northern Ohio. He stated he had absolutely no recollection of it. This both astounded and saddened me. How could someone ever forget seeing something like that? However, giving further thought to this, there is the fact that Howie is color-blind. He cannot see the color green at all. It is conceivable that while he saw the shifting light, he surely was not seeing the luminous, dark neon glow that I was. Given that, perhaps the impression would not have the same impact. The other explanation could be that Howie has possibly erased a lot of memory where it concerns his Ex, or perhaps he did not want to validate a past shared experience. That would be kind of sad, and I hope that wasn’t why. Or maybe he’s just losing some memory cells all together, the way most of us are beginning to by this age…….

So back to the big lightning storm and my friend insisting the Northern Lights were happening – I hauled my cozy self out of bed and went running downstairs, out the door, off The Urban Porch and into the middle of the street, just before midnight, facing north, lightening flashing all over the place – an old lady wearing just a tank top, panties, and a pair of rubber gardening clogs. There was a lot of rather impressive, rapid lights strobing and that was it. So I sat out on The Urban Porch and appreciated the light show for a while. It didn’t dawn on me how ridiculous it must have looked, standing in the road like that, until I walked back into the house and smiled with the amusement of it. I don’t know who, if anyone, saw me…..honestly, I don’t really care. It’s the freedom of aging…..a growing lack of inhibition, or maybe just a slow, slipping dance into eccentricity…..

One thing I did think about last night was how much I wished there was someone who would join me in the spontaneity of jumping into the the car at some crazy hour to find a good vantage point – in order to marvel at a lunar eclipse, the Northern Lights, the Milky Way, or a field full of fireflies. No way the S.O. is going to do that, and motivation sort of wanes when you’re doing it on your own….

On the subject of fireflies, as of mid-July the showing has been rather sparse compared to other years. A few blinking and sparking their love signals to each other here and there, but not the firefly orgy I was hoping for.

This week the mosquitos appear to have thinned out a bit. One can hope that trend continues. Last year we had an abundance of bumble bees in the yard but very few honeybees, which was worrisome. So it was a happy discovery and good sign to find that the Rose of Sharon was filled with honeybees, entering deep into their flowers with their little bee-butts sticking out, then emerging dusted with pollen.

The Rose of Sharon has finally exploded with blooms, as have the Hostas, and all variety of bees do seem to be enjoying them. Many years past, both of these plants were some of my least favorites. The Hostas were boring, the Rose of Sharon bush had a weird, upside-down broom shape that didn’t appeal to me. It’s funny how admiration for each has changed over time. The interplay of shading, texture and value of the Hostas; the late-summer punch of color, apian attraction, and the privacy the larger Rose of Sharon lends. Somehow it’s not unlike acquiring a taste and appreciation for spinach or mushrooms that you once disliked as a kid.

The bumble bees are especially enjoying the lavender.

The many photos of flowers I have posted on this blog may have given some the impression that the yard and gardens around here are pristine. Indeed, someone mentioned to me that my gardens looked so good. Here is the honest revelation – I have pretty much stopped weeding. Everything is overrun with grass and weeds, and my porch plants are a mess.

The Sungold cherry tomatoes in pots are hardly prolific. I’m not sure why.

And while I have managed to keep the Hibiscus alive through a number of years now, it is only making an occasional flower here and there. Each one lasts about a day.

The potted fig tree has made giant, gorgeous leaves, but not even one fig! It has spread out so much that it is not going to easily fit back in the house this winter.

There is a nice patch of Echinacea, but what you can’t see beneath is the ground overgrown and choked with weeds.

While walking around the neighborhood with the dog and passing many homes recently bought by the pandemic-fueled influx of transplants, I could not help but notice how much energy, time, planning and money some of these people have been putting into their landscaping. There are some really nice gardens to admire. They are not the only ones – there are a handful of longtime neighbors who heavily and happily throw themselves into making lovely plots. It is admirable and rather humbling, leaving me feeling my own front yard “View From the Urban Porch” is rather pedestrian. Yet at this point, the desire to tackle it doesn’t exist.

The hanging plants on the porch have taken a sudden, pathetic veer towards death, despite ample watering and feeding. I should probably take at least one of them down. Talk about lazy…. so there is some full disclosure for you. Sometimes things are not all they appear to be…..

The House Sparrow babies that are nested above the dead porch plants have begun to fledge.

A female cardinal looks down from above – perhaps judgmentally – as I climb into my car in order to flee my weedy yard in pursuit of other distractions.

Down the street, a neighbor’s chickens are laying overtime, creating a friendly invitation to relieve them of some eggs.

I happily accepted that sidewalk-chalked offer, with some blueberries in hand to share. And brought some for the new person who just moved in next door too…..

So to sum up last night, I didn’t see the Aurora Borealis, although I may have added some local entertainment to the neighborhood, had anyone been awake and looking out the window that late. I have gotten to thinking that we all add a little spark and flash to this place; human light shows shimmering our colors.

~*~