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String of Lights

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I would be a terrible astronaut and a complete waste of oxygen on the International Space Station because I’d always be looking out the window at things like this, courtesy of NASA.

The Eastern Seaboard at Night.

NASA says: Boston is just out of frame at right. Long Island and the New York City area are visible in the lower right quadrant. Philadelphia and Pittsburgh are near the center. Parts of two Russian vehicles parked at the orbital outpost are seen in left foreground.

Just imagine all the stuff going on down there. And think about what it takes to keep all those lights on. In case you’re still questioning what’s what, here’s another view:

A couple of things come to mind.

I can see where Philadelphia is near the center along the corridor of light that stretches from sparkling New York City down to the glimmer that is Washington D.C., but Pittsburgh is on the western side of Pennsylvania. So if Pittsburgh is the somewhat dimmer blob just above the center point of the photo, those farther flung smudges are probably Erie, Toronto, Columbus, Cleveland, and maybe even Detroit.

Here’s the other thing – the sure knowledge that two Russian space vehicles were over the Eastern Seaboard at Night would had had us all hiding in the fallout shelter 50 years ago. Today we look at those Russian orbiters and think how cool they seem in the lovely blue light. Back then, of course, the light would have been bright red, and Kruschev would have been gleefully pounding his shoe on the table.

Now, it’s merely a captivating vista.

Where is the window that you could gaze through for hours?

76 thoughts on “String of Lights”

  1. Lovely, Dale.It’s been awhile since I have had a fix of a good space pix.
    We used to have a house not quite on Lake Superior with a large picture window. The highway was in between, but we had a wonderful view of the Lake. When I was a pastor along the shore I visited many homes with even better views. One house looked out one window about two miles up the shore towards Split Rock Lighthouse and another window straight out over the lake. Friends had a cabin that looked up Silver Cliff from the east end.

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  2. like you clyde i could sit and watch water forever. the motion of lake waaves crashing or rolling or licking the shores can mesmerize me for eternity.
    i used to enjoy looking out the windows of airplanes as we fly off to the destination of the day, the cities wheatfields oceans or clouds all hold a special mind drifting wonder. i still enjoy it but my doctor informed me that every flight is equivalent to an in office xray and i should sit in the middle for extended flights to limit the exposure. no problem my mind quite honestly floats as fluidly in the middle of the plane or planet as it does when by the desirable view. but man , you gotta love the view.
    nice one dale. no wonder new your is the city that never sleeps. there are too many lights
    the canadian rockies in banff and jasper are lovely visualizations and a drive down going to the sun road in glacier and beartooth pass on the northeast corner of yellowstone are favorites too

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  3. I one fall day flew diagonally across Dale’s pix, from Raleigh to Pittsburgh, across the Appalachians. The valleys were deep green. The ridges were rusts and dusky browns and here and there some red and yellow. It was like flying over miles and miles of plush golf courses.

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    1. it really is a lovely planet we live on and the amazing thing is that no matter where you plunk yourself down you find scenic beauty, cultural richness and wonderful people. nice to have a planet to look out the window and daydream on.

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  4. Like Clyde, I’ll pick a view of Lake Superior. And of course, I’ll pick my cabin for the window. We look out at Bark Point, which takes some of the awesomeness out of the view of Lake Superior; without an island or point to break up that expanse of water, the view gets intimidating.

    We have a terribly limited view of the lake as there is just a single lane cut through to the lake that lets us see the water from inside the cabin. That is the legacy of the original owner, a remarkable man named Phil. He had a passion for ground cover. He would hike about the point we live on (using walking sticks he made himself) giving lectures to cabin owners, begging them to leave trees and shrubs on their lands as a way of protecting the land and being friendly to critters. Phil is dead, but his ghost is so articulate that we have let the forest grow up between us and the lake so badly it is like there is almost no lake view at all. The “upside” of that is that I have seen bears, deer, lynx, fox and wolves sauntering through our land, walking naturally because it hadn’t occurred to them this was a human-occupied dwelling. The “downside” is that the view of the lake is so limited I might as well stick my sofa somewhere in the woods and go sit on it to stare at trees. I’ve been so concerned to not defy Phil’s ghost that I have disappointed myself. Anyone who knows me well would not be surprised at that.

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  5. Other than any large lake or ocean where waves are pounding the shore, I could sit for DAYS in an easy chair in the lodge on the North Rim of Grand Canyon National Park looking out at the Canyon through the giant picture windows, especially if a thunderstorm is lighting up the South RIm.
    Chris

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  6. I find that gazing out of any window during a snow storm is a real treat. Our kitchen window overlooking the bird feeders is fun to look out of, too. I’ve been in Florence, Italy twice, and any hotel window in the city center is a feast for the eyes.

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  7. I’m in a horrible mood. I could get you all to sympathize by describing my symptoms, but that would be so disgusting we don’t want to go there. Would some people be interested in a sort of extra meeting of the Blevins group sometime reasonably soon to sooth each other’s Downton Abbey withdrawal? I could talk a lot about the series so far, and I’ll bet others can too. Given my ailments and budget, I would offer no wine or food, but baboon ladies are famous for their generosity and I wouldn’t expect anyone to die of hunger or thirst.

    Could that be fun? I promise to be in a better mood by then. mnstorytelr(at)comcast.net

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    3. I’m a Downton Abbey fan and would enjoy that. I’m not a wine person, but I certainly could share food. I’m kinda booked for the next few days (through Sunday early afternoon), but am more free after that. If I come, I promise to commit no crimes.

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      1. I’m wondering if we could think of the Sunday before or after the Blevins meeting, which would be March 11 or March 19.

        I’d probably buy that Downton Abbey book if we do this. They say it is good. But there is plenty to talk about!

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      2. OT – there have been several mentions of Edith’s life of crime but there is nothing in the glossary that sheds any light. Can anyone fill me in?
        If it is Something Never To Be Explained, I will stifle my curiosity.

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      3. Edith as a crime boss was one of the many random ricochets from tim’s erratic imagination. Someone with an elephant’s memory could point you toward the post where this happened, but you would be no wiser. I know how vicious a criminal Edith is, and I sleep soundly behind my unlocked door!

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        1. Thanks for doing that research. It led to a very entertaining blog and comments. I have tried to search for things on the entire blog before and it didn’t come up with anything. LiSP(WS), is there a secret to how you found that so fast?

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      5. Since tim kept referring to my being a criminal/ex-con/currently in jail – I decided to play along. I tried to protest, but he wouldn’t believe me. If I couldn’t convince him otherwise, I thought I might as well talk like it’s true.

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      6. Lisa – if you type into Google:
        daleconnelly.com
        then leave a space and type a phrase you are looking for, you sometimes get there. 🙂

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      7. Yes, that’s the key – I typed “site: daleconnelly.com guest blog is by edith” and got it. I remembered it was a guest blog that started it all.

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      8. Game night/soup swap/book club/Downton Abbey analysis…do you think there might be a little ADHD in this group? 😉

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      2. As cat herder for the Blevins Book Club, I will place a gentle reminder in this discussion that our next meeting is on Sunday 3/18. Not to quash any plans for Downton Abbey- just placing a gentle reminder in the mix.

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    5. Steve – what if we had Game Night this Saturday eve at your place in stead of tim’s (I checked with tim, he says “do it”.) This could be in addition to whatever you concoct, just sooner. What do you thnk?

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      2. I believe the start time is 7:00, but if it’s at your place, Steve, you get to decide. We’ll bring games and stuff. 🙂

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      4. Dang. I’m out for this Saturday. My social life is nonexistent most evenings/weekends (or any other time) but I’m busy this Saturday. Have fun!

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      7. Wait – March 10, Steve? I was thinking it was this Saturday – March 3rd.

        March 3rd – I can not make (insert frowny face here) but I might be able to come March 10.

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  8. Amazing perspective, Dale, and so, so lovely. It’s a dizzying view – I can see how a gazillionaire would spend his fortune for the opportunity to tag along on a space mission, certainly money better spent than on a political campaign. Maybe we should require a space mission for all presidential aspirants? Have you ever made the trek down to Florida to see a space launch?

    Photos like this always make me think about how in 1895 my grandmother lived in a sod house in ND and moved to California in a wagon. How in 1949 when my family first moved to Japan, it took 2-3 weeks by freighter, one way, and just as long for a letter. And no one telephoned internationally in 1949. In 1966 the plane trip back to the US was almost twice as long as it is in 2012. Today I’m in instant daily contact with friends around the world by email and skype. And I take it all not so much “for granted” as “in stride”. How can that be? Why am I not constantly amazed?

    I spent most of my early life on or near the sea and still miss that every day, so now, sitting on the rocks at the North Shore is my favorite place to spend time, mostly just sorting pebbles in a trance, and driving west through open prairie comes a close second. Dense forest feels claustrophobic by comparison. The waves and the light shifts over open water are mesmerizing. If I were a painter, I’d have to live by a body of water.

    Also love riding trains and the moving landscape.

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      1. I’ll have to dig around in my genealogy stuff, but since grandma’s dad was a homesteader, it had to be in the middle of nowhere. I’m thinking that we don’t know the exact location since we’re going on grandma’s anecdotal account and she was only 6 or 7 at the time. They weren’t there very long. It was a 2-3 year interval between upper NY state and California. Are you near Fargo?

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      4. Renee I think I might have hunted pheasants close to where you live. What town is yours? Are you near Hettinger? Bowman? Strassburg?

        One of the most fascinating stories I ever heard comes from Strassburg.

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      7. Steve, what is your Strassburg story? I just know the town as the birth place of Lawrence Welk and one of the many little towns behind the “Saurkraut curtain”, the area of the state where many Germans from Russia are to be found, and where “outsiders” are said to be unwelcome. (I have heard many stories to the contrary as well.). We haven’t many pheasants in town, it is true, but they can be plentiful around Mott and Hettinger.

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      8. Renee I’d like to save the Strassburg story, perhaps for a guest blog. It involves the most remarkable meeting of races–in this case, a relative of Welk’s who was of course as white as they get and a big chocolate colored African-American friend of mine from Mississippi. In a million years you couldn’t guess what happened when my friend knocked on the door of a farm home outside Strassburg to ask permission to hunt. I don’t mean to tease, and maybe I should get busy on this.

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      9. I eagerly await your story. I have a distant but quasi-personal interest in Welk, as Lawrence Welk’s daughter Shirley married one of my paternal grandfather’s cousins.

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      10. Okay, Renee, so I just got home from babysitting all day/evening and checked out grandma’s Dakota connection. I screwed it up — She was born in the Dakota Territory before it became a state on Nov. 2, 1889. thought it was Mansfield, ND but it was Mansfield, SD, and she was born there on the 8th day of the 8th month in 1888 in a soddy. It’s mid-state, not very close to where you live, but there are probably pheasants nearby. I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that grandpa was born in 1868 just after the Civil War and grandma in 1888.

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      11. Robin, that is a very understandable mistake. Your grandma was born near Aberdeen, SD. Not too far north is a Mansfield township near Valley City, ND, only about 90 miles or so from Aberdeen. Who is Mr. Mansfield and why does he have places named after him? Northern SD is often considered part and parcel of the same area as southern ND. The terrain is pretty similar. We in the Dakotas still seem to feel a historic kinship. Aberdeen is part of our region, even if it is 350 miles away. I know the college there. I know many local people who have graduated from that college,and I have purchased a trombone and a French horn from the great music store there. Since there are so few people in our States, we have connections to many people even if they live several hundred miles away. In ND and northern and western SD, people are frequently related to one another or else know someone or have relatives in most of the other towns. It is kind of comforting, actually.

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        1. Renee, I can see how distant family relationships would be comforting, even today– to have a network of connection in that vast territory. But still hard to fathom from this perspective in time. Do the Dakotas today have a reputation as being somewhat difficult or impenetrable for newcomers? Minnesota does.

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    2. I agree about the North Shore – love finding a quiet rock and just watching the lake for awhile. I lived one summer in Grand Marais and i loved going out on their little peninsula and spending the afternoon by the lake, listening, reading, watching.

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  9. I am pretty easy to please when it comes to windows and can find something interesting outside of almost any window. My current work window occasionally shows me hawks and eagles (how we get bald eagles flying over a church parking lot and 76th street in Richfield, I don’t know – but I’ll take it). Home picture window shows me a variety of birds, neighbors, the occasional fox (the four legged variety), and more hawks – including a lovely kestral one summer. My mom’s front window used to include a daily show of a pair of ducks flying in for their morning meal (Mom named them Fred and Ethel) – their routine was an interesting lesson in cooperation and mutual protection.

    If I had a window that I could pick, it would have a view of woods and a lake – with a window on the other side that showed people passing by – so a cabin in the woods that travels to a walkable neighborhood when I want to switch things up…

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  10. Sweet post, Robin. You remind me of being driven in an auto in the 1950s, looking out the window, mesmerized by the rhythmic up and down flow of the utility lines draped between the T-frame supports.

    In terms of how radically the world has changed, when I was a boy it was considered shockingly expensive to place a long distance phone call. When we visited my grandmother and left to make the 146 mile drive home, she fretted until she knew we had made it safely. The gimmick was that after arriving home we would call her long distance person-to-person, asking for George Grooms. He was, of course, my father, and he sure wasn’t at my grandmother’s house. That was the signal to her that we had made it safely, and nobody paid for a person-to-person call that wasn’t consummated.

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    1. I remember those days Steve. A cross country camping trip one year when we were in the States. The utiility lines swooping on to the horizon 🙂 An old station wagon that smelled like army surplus sleeping bags and baloney sandwiches and vomit. One sister got to sit in the front because she had a ‘touchy’ stomach. (It didn’t help) The rest of us were stacked in the back like cord wood. The only rest stops I remember were pulling over to the side of the highway and crouching in the ditch. Those were the days, huh?

      But we did have some grand views out the windows. . .

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      1. Do you remember how filled the ditches were with bottles and cans? It used to be normal procedure to chuck stuff out the window of your car. You could walk into a ditch, put your hand down and come up with an empty beer can.

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    2. I remember that long distance person-to-person gimmick. Our family used it too. It was more expensive to call person-to-person if the person was there.

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  11. I love looking out of our windows to the south, upstairs. There are two in the large room overlooking the woodsy nature park, and I sometimes wish I could just knock a hole in the wall and make one more, a whole bank of them. There is only one house in the way, and it’s on a lower lot and so isn’t very intrusive. Our computer is at a desk in one window, so I often find myself staring into space, out at the landscape. I sometimes see squirrels and deer, and all kinds of birds – I wonder if the little hawk will build its nest over there again this year…

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  12. I’m not very original…I choose Lake Superior. Preferably some rocky shore. The Lake has so many moods and different colors, I don’t think I could ever get tired of it.

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  13. Morning.
    I have mentioned before sitting in front of the barn looking across the pasture and fields. Or leaning out a window on that same side. And I still miss that from my milking cows days.

    Lately, it’s been feeding chickens and just standing there watching the ducks and chickens all getting along so well…

    Working on lights in another theater this week so the view will mostly be from the tops of ladders. But I can run the lightboard from my phone so that’s kinda cool. (Who am I kidding; it’s REALLY COOL and I giggle like a little kid every time I do it! Hah!) I move into this space and sort of take over; light board, two monitors, modem, table, keyboard, computer, drink holder, trash can, peanut M&M’s… yes, I’m very high maintenance.

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  14. In early 70s I was still teaching kdgn in San Francisco, but had moved down to Half Moon Bay (on Hwy. 1 about 45 minutes south), so I had to commute. On Fridays at 3:05 we younger teachers all tore out of school to the local watering hole, where I had 2 or 3 martinis. Not the best way to do a commute, so I would park at Ocean Beach (on the extreme west end) and get out and walk for a while. But sometimes it was raining, so I would just sit there in my bright yellow VW and watch the rain and the waves… nice.

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  15. What I really love to look at is stars on a dark night far away from city lights. I was in NW Wsconsin last weekend for the Birkie and walked out onto the ice of a lake. Mars was brilliant in Leo, Jupiter and Venus flanking the sliver moon were already below the trees but Orion, Sirius, the Pleides, we’re all bright and beautiful. I even saw Cepheus which often eludes me, and then just coming up at the horizon was Arcturus. The picture from space is cool to me just because I think it’s marvelous that it is even possible, but I think it would be very much cooler if so much wasted light and energy was not evident. A great organization, The International Dark Sky Association http://www.darksky.org/ has lots of good info about this including designated dark sky areas and cities that are trying to reduce their light emissions.

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    1. Keelin – You speak the sky language that Husband speaks, from his years learning the night sky out on the “hippie farm.” Thank you so much for this link. I will read more later, but am so glad to know this exists. I long for a place where we can see it all.

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  16. Good day to all. I just got the part I needed for my lap top and I don’t have to use the old cranky computer which barely worked this morning. This lap top is an important window on the world for me.

    The view I most remember is one from a plane window looking out on the mountains near La Paz, Bolivia. It was a sunny day and I could see the narrow winding roads that lead to small mountain villages or isolated homes at various locations on the mountains. For me it was a breath taking view of a typical Bolivian rural landscape with small rural communities scattered here and there along roads that cling to the sides of the mountains.

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  18. One of my best views through my lap top screen is Trail Baboon. Trail Baboon gives a wide variety things to look at through my lap top which are as good or better than any view through a picture window. It starts with a new view of remarkable scenery supplied each day by Dale or a guest and is followed by variations on that view or new views from the minds of this very interesting group that Dale has attracted. This is certainly a view or series of views that will hold your gaze for a very long time. .

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  19. I enjoyed very much the view from Going to the Sun highway in Glacier Park many years ago. Unfortunately, it was cloudy and rainy much of the time and the view was obscured by veils of mist. I don’t mind misty, foggy clouds. They’re nice to look at too. It was amazing when they’d pull back and you’d have a sudden view of an enormous mountain or an aqua blue lake (what IS that color)?

    Like a lot of people, I really enjoy a view of Lake Superior. My favorite is from Palisade Head at sunrise. I love to go up there before sunrise and make coffee and watch the sun come up over the lake. Palisade Head attracts more tourists now than it used to. It’s possible to watch the sunrise from Artists Point in Grand Marais as well.

    I have a very nice view from my window at work now. I worked in a corner for 13 years without a window. The changes that were made a year ago gave me a new office space along with a new supervisor and some new coworkers. Now I sit right in front of a window that faces west. I look out through tall Norway pines over three fish rearing ponds. There are frequent hoar frosts here in the winter that look so lovely. I think I’m really lucky to have such a nice view.

    This topic reminds me of “A Room With a View.”

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  20. I guess I better mention the window about which I occasionally blog elsewhere. I sit with my computer, and now my drawing easel, right by a window which faces the parking lot and an entrance for our building. It is a pageant of life out there, especially the comings and goings and dress and behavior and body language of college students. This is a higher-end building a couple miles from campus, so we have a different kind of student here. Richer basically or more willing to go deeper in debt to pay for this building.
    A common scene is THE VISIT OF THE PARENTS, which usually goes like this at the door: college student looking very nervous as she/he unlocks door. Momma looking rather severe, such as with her arms crossed. Daddy hanging back looking sort of awkward, as if he is not quite a part of the party. Often a younger sibling, an older teen, hanging farther back as if she/he is saying I am not a member of this family. I assume much of this is about the MOTHER’S INSPECTION.
    We once went to visit our daughter in Decorah like that but without any younger sibling. Mr wife marched into the dorm room, scanning and sniffing. I stood back in the hallway, assuming my 19-year-old daughter could live as she pleased. My wife announced their was an odor in the room. My wife’s mission in life is to find odors. My daughter patiently explained, clearly expecting this, that Decorah is in Iowa and there was pig farm across the valley.

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    1. The view of my apartment when I was a student was not the greatest. One time I decided not to do much cleaning when my parents visited and when they saw the layers of dust in all of the corners I realized I should have done some cleaning. I still don’t do a very good job of cleaning my office. I might join the adult world where I am fully capable of cleaning up after myself one of these days.

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      1. I got lucky my freshman year of college and had a lovely view of Summit Ave from my dorm room – part of Summit where there is a median and trees. Senior year I had a view of the football field, which was also scenic, but in a different way. 🙂

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  21. I enjoy all views of nature and skylines. But in the spirit of “love the one you are with”, my faithful serenity producer is a living room window. I can sit in a rocking chair in front of my woodstove and with a slight eye movement gaze out a tall narrow window at my mugo pine, a host to birds, cover for rabbits, and a screen to hide any evidence of city life. It is not a dwarf mugo, some of the branches are 15 feet high. A landscaping neighbor once said of my front/side yard—First thing I’d do is whack off half that pine.

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