HE INK OF THE SKY YAWNS ABOVE me like a velvet jewellery box scattered with tiny diamonds. They don’t so much twinkle as pulse, with the still of the night a stage for their nocturnal debut – as dependable as the night itself. In this area of the world, where many communities boast an International Dark-Sky Association designation (no small feat), dark skies are de rigueur, and celestial encounters are on purpose. I’ve come to southwest Colorado in the summer; there’s no snow, no plush powder to descend.
Oh my stars
Aug 03, 2023
3 minutes
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