Yesterday was scorching hot. The sun shone brightly, too brightly and just taking my dogs on a walk made me feel all sweaty. Sure, calling 70 degree temperatures “scorching hot” might seem like hyperbole but last week the weather was fantastic. It stayed crisp and cool every single day and biking out in it felt amazing.
But fall betrayed me yesterday and the sudden 30 degree rise in temperature caught me off guard. Faster than I had realized, I had gone into cold-weather mode, I simply did not want to bike under a blazing sun.
So I waited until the sun went down and darkness brought a bit of sanity and chill into the air. I chose a quiet country road to ride on, where I knew I wouldn’t meet any traffic. The sky was brilliant, not a cloud in sight. At the top of a hill, I couldn’t resist the urge any longer. I rested my bike against a tree and found a place to stargaze in a grassy field.
Laying down on the earth, staring into the sky, I found myself thinking all of the thoughts that people think of when they look into the night sky.
I am really small.
Earth is really small.
The universe is really big.
How many stars are there?
How many other people are looking into the sky right now?
Are those tiny pinpricks of light really bigger than the sun?
How long would it take to travel a light-year on a bike?
Is that a deer stomping around in the woods?
And of course I cried. For some reason, it is physically impossible for me to look into the night sky for any length of time without tears streaming down my face. I get emotional when I remember that I am just this tiny little blob in an endless universe and yet the God who created it all wants to have a personal relationship with me.
After a while, I started feeling a bit chilled from being inactive in the cool night air. I bid my farewell to the twinkling stars and the deer in the tree line before heading down the road again. However, I could not tear my eyes completely from stars and soon I saw a lone meteorite making its journey across the sky.
Then I saw a car coming down the road, headlights bright and glaring. There are two ways that vehicles put me on high alert when I am on the road alone at night. If they fly down the road like they own it, that puts me on edge. If they creep along the road, that also puts me on edge. I am picky about car behavior, especially at night-anything out of the ordinary makes me wary.
This dude was driving too slow. As he passed me, he rolled down the window and asked me if I had seen a black dog running around. Which could be taken as a sketchy question, if we are being honest. But I could tell from his tone of voice and demeanor that he was actually looking for his lost dog.
“What size dog is he?” I asked.
“Well, he is a black lab.” He replied.
“Yeah, I haven’t seen any dogs but I did hear some animal moving in the trees up the road-but I am guessing that it was deer or something.”
With that, he thanked me and drove off. Yes, it was a boring interaction, but truthfully speaking sometimes I like boring interactions. Hopefully he found his dog without too much trouble.
I made it home and carried my bike upstairs thinking it must be rather late. Nope, it wasn’t even 8 o’clock yet. Silly daylight savings time.