Tuesday, November 17, 1998

Leonid Meteor Shower, 1998

On the morning of November 17, 1998, between 1:30 a.m. and 2:15 a.m., I saw about one meteor each minute falling between periods of deep fog which drifted up the mountain.  The first meteor appeared as a great light falling from east to west.  I was reminded of a freight train that had lost its tracks and was plunging down on top of its rails into a deep canyon leaving a fantastic display of sparks,  followed by a pathway of smoke.  Then it was gone.  I waited for the awesome sound I knew would come, hands ready to clap over my ears.  But there was no sound.   A couple of Roman-candle-type fizzles followed, then a great flash lit up the eastern sky.  And another “freight train” fell into that same abyss, piercing its own halo as it arrived into our planet’s embrace, leaving its own blazing trail of sparks bouncing up and down in the turbulence of its ride to oblivion.  Silence again.  As the great rocky road of dust faded into the night sky the oaks around our house also faded into the newly arrived fog, and the lights from our carport glowed a pale yellow.

I thought back to how the great naturalist, Marie Mellinger, had pointed out at the Hambidge Center in Dillard, Georgia, last month, that Fungi was a separate kingdom, separate from plants and animals and minerals.  She told us how Fungi had joined with Algae to form Lichen, and somewhere in that trio is a mysterious combination of things we can refer to as “Life”. Algae seems native to our planet, but not Fungi. So where did Fungi come from?  Some say it may have ridden one of these great “freight trains” into the atmosphere of our planet, then, liberated from its vehicle of entry, was free to float into our own “sourdough-starter-mix”, perhaps mixing with Algae; who knows?  I had read separately that some eleven tons of meteor dust enter the Earth’s atmosphere every day.  So what is eleven tons a day times eight billion years?  Well, if you could multiply all that out you’d lose yourself in the answer.

Meanwhile, the fog drifts briefly and another meteor falls into our sky - I am reminded of a home run, hit late in a game, by the opposing team - it seems to rise at first, and rise way up and then hang for a moment before it slowly descends and vanishes - all in total silence.