My wife and I were sipping summer drinks on our back porch the other night—whiskey sours, or pink lemonade and gin. I was watching the stars fight with the streetlight at the corner. I moved to a spot where a hemlock near our porch eclipses the light. The stars won. A golden dot swam steadily and silently across the sky, southeast to northwest. It was gone in a minute. A satellite.
“We used to sleep out and watch the stars,” I told Sherry. “Just unroll our sleeping bags on the ground and go to sleep.” Full story »
