Only once have I seen the Aurora Borealis—nature’s fireworks. I remember it vividly: a wave of green ribboning the sky, a tinge of magenta on its tail, the distant crackling of electricity audible above the prairie wind. It was piercing cold that Saskatchewan night, January 25, 1992, after my grandparents’ 65th anniversary dinner. Ever since, I’ve longed for a repeat performance.
Discovering the literature and poetry of a country we’re visiting: for me this is one of the greatest pleasures of travel. And what a thrill when it happens in your own country like it did in the Yukon this summer. [Read more…]
What fascinated us about the Roman city of ConÍmbriga in Portugal were the intricate mosaics, uncovered and open to the sky— still intact after 2,000 years! Think of it. How will our living room floors look in 4019? Especially if we left them roofless and open to the elements for centuries?
If our marriage lasts, we’ll celebrate our 50thwedding anniversary next Friday!
“And we should call it Latitude 65,” Magellan said five years ago when he floated the idea of a blog about our travels, the black-sky rains of November pelting our windows on the forty-ninth parallel in Vancouver.
What places, I’ve always wondered, are on the circle of latitude 65° N of the Earth’s equatorial plane?
And if we were nearby, how would we know the exact spot?
“We’ll be at latitude 65 this morning,” said Magellan as we left Yukon’s Tombstone Territorial Park where we’d camped the night before on our driving trip up to Tuktoyaktak.