Last night after walking the dogs I spread an old blanket on the ground and lay watching the stars.

The Perseid meteor shower is under way, and in 15 minutes I saw five meteors.

One was just a blip of light, two were quick, and two left long streaks.

I had felt emotionally low all day. Isaac Bonewits’ passing was part of the cause, but only part, I think.

We were friends at a distance, but rarely saw one another. He moved East, and I have attended only one festival there in my life, and it was not one that he came to.

The time of year is part of it. After all those years in the classroom, mid-August still seems like the end of summer.

Last week I was talking with a friend at the university library. She mentioned that university convocation, which is followed by college and department meetings, comes next week. She said that I flinched when I heard that—even though it no longer affects me, even though it no longer means the end of summer break.

Back when our ancestors chopped with stone, they no doubt watched the night sky much more than we do. And they saw falling stars, of course, and no doubt they made analogies between meteors and human lives.

Isaac’s was one of the long streaks—at least so far as we Pagans are concerned. But there is so much black between the stars.

Still, watch the sky-show if you can. It is all that there is.