Goddesses, Dragons and Ancestors

This past month has seen a lot of different photography for me, from portraits to street to even wildlife (OK, pelicans), but I’m returning to the topic of Northern Lights because…well, because magic doesn’t happen very often.

And that’s the only way to describe looking up and seeing the sky dance with softly glowing colours, in the kind of soft comforting silence you can only get from true solitude.

The aurora borealis is a result of solar radiation interacting with the Earth’s upper atmosphere — think of what happens to a neon bulb when you run electricity through it — but standing beneath it, it’s hard to reduce it to just that. There are a lot of legends surrounding the Northern Lights — from goddesses ushering in a new day, to dragons battling for good and evil and (most poetically, to me) the First Nations of North America seeing them as echoes of departed people moving and speaking to them in the infinity of the sky.

My latest aurora encounter began after a long day working. From the numbers coming in on solar activity, and an admin on a Facebook group far more versed in crunching the data, it looked like Friday night/Saturday morning would offer very good chances for spotting the Lights. Happily, the clouds and cold of recent days had departed and it looked ideal for trying one’s luck.
With that, I set out around midnight for a 2 hour drive away from the light pollution - and unfortunately increasing crowds - of the city. Several times I stopped by the side of a highway to gaze at the lights which already had made an appearance…I knew I’d made the right decision despite being on Hour 17 without sleep.

Pulling into my destination all weariness and doubt immediately fell away, as how right my choice was dazzled the sky overhead. Far from being confined low to the horizon, these lights were far brighter and covered at least half the sky. Like I said: magic!

Our sun is currently entering into an active phase of its regular cycle, so there’s a good chance these displays will return. My humble advice, if you want to witness them for yourself: approach them reverently and with respect and take the time to let it unfold. Aurora are unpredictable - they may show up early, or not until late into the night, and they may dance for hours, or minutes.
Set aside more time than you originally planned. It’s rare that we get an opportunity to sit in silence, with no demand to ‘do’ something or justify our time. Make the most of it!

The sun-dog days of winter

The sight of sun-dogs — parhelion for the meteorologists in the crowd — is a hallmark of bitterly cold days here. Caused most commonly by ice crystals suspended in clouds or floating freely in the air, these crystals act as prisms, bending light into a spectacular display in the sky when the conditions are right.

Wikipedia was kind enough to mention that sun-dogs can exist on other planets, too:

Mars might have sun dogs formed by both water-ice and CO2-ice. On the gas giant planets—Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune—other crystals form clouds of ammonia, methane, and other substances that can produce halos with four or more sun dogs.[8]

My work more commonly involves portraits, street photography and people in general — that obviously is on hiatus now with the lockdowns imposed by our provincial governments in grappling with the pandemic. But that leaves an opening to pursue different subjects and different pursuits with a camera, in my case the landscapes and places around our city. As long as you’re dressed for it, there’s a lot of beauty to be seen!

Golden Hour in the North End

I once had a friend tell me a photographer is a person who takes more pictures on vacation than they do at their work.

This rung true to me (it’s certainly been true for my vacations) and I was reminded of it again this week as I shivered on the Arlington Street Bridge in the frosty air of pre-dawn, waiting for the sun to rise over the wide expanse of the railyards that are the boundary of sorts where the fabled North End begins.

I could have taken the day to sleep in, but I knew a clear sunrise was probably only going to happen this once, before the really cold temperatures arrived and all that waiting became a lot less tolerable. So, on a day free I actually woke up earlier…and I’m so glad I did.
The railyard is a basic industrial site and not what many would consider a ‘pretty’ landscape — but I knew there was something special there, and in the right light at the right time it was certainly pretty to me. Here’s hoping you can step out of ‘autopilot’ for even a moment and see the beauty in everyday life.