This is where we go when we follow the water. Down it flows—that’s science—and we race it to the ocean. Not quickly enough. The stream dwindles to mud that shines and then dulls. I feel as if I can hear the waves wash the rocks, just past where the pastures rise. We were so close this time. We’ll try again another day. Tomorrow’s weather forecast says rain.
The wind can’t carry us unless we deep-down believe we are kites. Not of tissue, not wooden sticks, no string of any sort. It’s all in your mind: this ability to be suspended by westerlies and sundowners. Don’t worry about navigation or splintery landings. Those thoughts will keep you planted on the ground. Did you know that when you jump off, it pushes the world a measurable amount in the opposite direction? That’s more science for you.
Let’s catch stars tonight. We’ll use the biggest jars we can bear. The stars, like lighting bugs, will be easy to capture. Celestial objects fly higher in the evening sky than flying insects do, but move much more slowly. I have five stars in my jar already and I’m not even trying hard. I caught one lightning bug, although I let it go.
From my site.