I've always been fascinated with the phenomenon we call falling stars.
I have a good vantage point of the evening sky from my living room picture windows, so I do occasionally get to see the magic, sometimes out of the corner of my eye.
Back in the early 90's I dragged my mattress and my girlfriend out to the back deck during a meteor shower event. We counted 13 before we...........well.............before we fell asleep.
My dream is to have one fall in my yard, so that I will have a crater and a Space Rock to admire. But there is always the small possibility of getting hit, as it occurred a few months after I was born. As the story goes,
"On a clear afternoon in Sylacauga, Alabama, in 1954, Ann was napping on her couch, covered by quilts, when a softball-size hunk of black rock broke through the ceiling, bounced off a radio, and hit her in the thigh, leaving a pineapple-shaped bruise."
I wouldn't want that to happen. I bruise easily.
However, I do have these five Black Walnut trees on my property. This time of year, when I take my early morning walk through the acreage, I enjoy hearing one or two of the hard, round fruit hit the ground, briefly disturbing the morning quiet. Pretty soon, they all start rotting, and they crunch underfoot. The neighbor's cocker spaniel comes over to grab one to chew on.
But this morning, a sudden gust of wind came up and shook one of the trees, leading to a bombing like I've never seen; I was underneath. Bonk, ouch.
It weighs 2.5 ounces.
Apparently, these walnut trees are found all over the Northeast, and Ontario, as well, where they might have originated.
I have a good vantage point of the evening sky from my living room picture windows, so I do occasionally get to see the magic, sometimes out of the corner of my eye.
Back in the early 90's I dragged my mattress and my girlfriend out to the back deck during a meteor shower event. We counted 13 before we...........well.............before we fell asleep.
My dream is to have one fall in my yard, so that I will have a crater and a Space Rock to admire. But there is always the small possibility of getting hit, as it occurred a few months after I was born. As the story goes,
"On a clear afternoon in Sylacauga, Alabama, in 1954, Ann was napping on her couch, covered by quilts, when a softball-size hunk of black rock broke through the ceiling, bounced off a radio, and hit her in the thigh, leaving a pineapple-shaped bruise."
I wouldn't want that to happen. I bruise easily.
However, I do have these five Black Walnut trees on my property. This time of year, when I take my early morning walk through the acreage, I enjoy hearing one or two of the hard, round fruit hit the ground, briefly disturbing the morning quiet. Pretty soon, they all start rotting, and they crunch underfoot. The neighbor's cocker spaniel comes over to grab one to chew on.
But this morning, a sudden gust of wind came up and shook one of the trees, leading to a bombing like I've never seen; I was underneath. Bonk, ouch.
It weighs 2.5 ounces.
Apparently, these walnut trees are found all over the Northeast, and Ontario, as well, where they might have originated.
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