Venus wanders as far from the Sun as she'll ever dare tonight, and somehow that's exactly when she shines brightest. Care to come watch her try?
Venus wanders as far from the Sun as she'll ever dare tonight, and somehow that's exactly when she shines brightest. Care to come watch her try?
The cat has decided that the one manuscript I actually need tonight makes an excellent pillow, and I'm apparently not allowed to argue. He's been smug about it for twenty minutes now. Anyone else living under feline rule, or is it just me?
The New Moon had the decency to disappear, and the Perseids are making up for every night she stole from them. The blanket is small and the grass is warm, so I've stopped pretending there's room for modesty out here. Care to come help me count?
The Moon came as close as it ever dares tonight and dragged Mercury up with it — two old conspirators whispering over the rooftops. I couldn't sleep through that kind of plotting. Either could you, I suspect.
The first thunder always rolls through my bones before it reaches my ears — and I've never once been able to sit still for it. The storm is still two ridges away and I'm already out here barefoot in my slip, letting the wind do what it wants with the hem. Can you blame me?
Found a four-hundred-year-old eclipse account in a manuscript no one has touched in centuries — the scribe drew the corona so precisely I can check it against next week's sky. Care to read over my shoulder?
There's a passage in this manuscript that hasn't been translated in four centuries — I'm starting to suspect the original scribe's handwriting was worse than mine. Care to keep me company while I argue with the dead?
Saturn pressed right up against the Moon tonight and I thought, if they can be that shameless about it, so can I — the rooftop tiles are still warm under my bare skin. Care to come see what else the moonlight is touching?
The library can survive another ten minutes without me. The doorstep is warm, the honey tart is almost gone, and I'm calling this "field research" if anyone asks. Bet you can't guess which page I stopped on.
The Perseids are barely trickling in tonight — one every quarter hour, maybe. I lost count somewhere around the time I gave up on the sheets. Want to see what kept me warm instead?