One Amazing Evening

7/14/2025

It has been a few days, and it is still all I think about. On the 11th, I was treated to my first real Aurora Borealis. I was so excited. I do not even know how to express it.

If I am being totally honest, this is not exactly my first. As kids, like 7 or so - young enough my parents were still together, I remember a night where the sky was totally red. I had no idea what it meant then or what it was even called. It was just late for us to be up, and we were all in the front yard staring at the sky. Later, as a teen, I have a vague recollection of being in northern Wisconsin, visiting the farm of some distant relatives, and a night with some lights. I remember more the moment than what anything looked like.

Last year, when the lights were last visible here in Indiana, I was off travelling somewhere. I had cursed my luck at missing out. A year later, I recall hearing some news about possible northern lights earlier this week. I dismissed the reports out-of-hand. The day was cloudy, and these things never really work out. The night of the 11th was complicated by more of life's complexities, and I was just leaving Speedway, having handled some errands, when I got a text from a friend, Amy Hodson, about the lights. In the light pollution of Indianapolis, I had to ask her if was not still cloudy. I could not tell. There are not start visible from inside the city. We were about an hour away from home.

Morse Beach is just around the corner from home, and it is the closest place I know to try and view the lights. The light pollution is slightly better. At least you can see some stars. Instead of going straight home, we pulled in and took a look around. You could see the lights. I pulled out my phone and took a couple of shots. It looked good. I raced home to get a proper camera. My brother called me and told me I needed to be outside. I told him I was on my way back out.

Before we left, we ran into a woman who struck up a conversation. She pointed out the faint blobs of color in the sky and told us they were going to get a lot brighter. I honestly did not believe her. She was right. I was wrong - really wrong. When we got back, there was a green band across the horizon, spanning the water, and a couple large green patches in the sky. It took a minute to get things setup and start grabbing shots. It would help if I knew more about what I was doing. It was bitterly cold and the winds were strong next to the water, but I did not care. I was too excited. By this time, Amy had shown up, and the two us were excitedly shooting and oohing and ahhing over everything.

The lights grew stronger. Reds waxed and waned across the sky. The green areas faded, but the green arc grew stronger. Suddenly, a set of orangish columns blossomed in the sky. Amazed, I pointed and very eloquently, but excitedly, queried, "What the f$!# is that?!" Over the next 20 minutes or so, the sky blazed into an impressive red explosion. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

The lights diminished around 10 PM. I had been out for around an hour and a half. I was cold but totally beside myself with joy. We packed up and headed home. An hour and a half later, I guess there was a second round, and then a final round just before dawn. I am sad to have missed them. I could not see enough of this in my lifetime.

The next night promised more of the same but failed to deliver on the hype. I stood outside for over an hour - waiting, hoping. There were reports of faint light visible to the camera, but I was not getting any where I was at. Apparently, things got better around midnight, but I was already home by then. I would not say that I am content with a single night. I am happy that I saw them. Grateful even. But it is not enough. I need more of this in my life. It was just simply too beautiful to never witness again.

Thanks for reading,

Mike