A baldy night sky…

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Stepped out last night to take a Nocturnal November W-a-l-k with The Dogs and saw this. A waning Moon washed by arriving rain clouds above the Convent of Codiponte. Brought to mind Night on Bald Mountain. The choice was to fish on YouTube for Mussorgsky OR, take a pic and fast. Opted for photography. Returned inside for the SONY. The Dogs circled around me wondering what-in-Hell-was-going-on. They both sat down on the Sardinian carpet out of frustration. Here is Our Dialogue…

The Dogs thought… Oh? That must’ve been Our W-a-l-k. Moses asked Nina… Did we leave the house? And Nina replied… Technically, yes, but we didn’t go anywhere. Hey! That fellow’s in the kitchen so, goodie! Has to be Cookie Time. I lectured… No, Dear Animals, we have to actually leave the confines of Il Poggiolo, you Dogs do your Stuff and don’t look at me like this is new to you. Then, once again within the confines of My Property, it will be Treat Time back at the ol’ Poggiolo corral… and in that order too! Their Weimaraner lazers said…  Gosh? Really? 

My mini-digital is not the adequate gizmo for emblazoning on its pixel-guts such a dark snap. But, as so, it’s very bats-flying spooky. Once a few shots were taken, off we three ambled down to the Medieval Bridge, the trash-dumpsters et al for Our Nightly Business on this Rain’s-coming Sunday evening. Treats followed by Beddy-by Time. Gads.

Aliens Three…

You & I have been invited to a couple of evening parties to watch le stelle cadenti di San Lorenzo… the shooting stars of San Lorenzo. It’s a three to four day event. The spectacle happens every year in August when the Earth passes through a junkyard of debris from a splattered moon, I believe. I understand the 10th… a Saturday night… is the highlight night. It is also the day masses are given in honor of the Saint L, martyred for disobeying an edict of a Roman Emperor bent on cleansing Rome of Christian priest/bishops/others… or, that is as much as I could fathom from the overly intricate Italian listing on Wikipedia. Italian Official Speak is a KILLER!!! I did manage to glean that The Poor Soul was cruelly burned for his recalcitrance on the 10th. Oh, well…

I am still hoping to see an UFO. Shooting stars are a sideline option. Last night, I sat out on a splendid aia… or, farmyard… belonging to Our Dutch & Milanese Friends at their stunning house across the valley from Il Poggiolo and studied the distant peaks of the Apuane Mountains for any telltale sigh of an UFO or two. According to those lucky enough to have spotted a lighted gold & red saucer passing in the sky stated the location was over those same peaks. Excellent. I had them in full view. And, a glorious night it was… pleasant temps, a light breeze from the northwest, an absent Moon, tons of stars. N’er a falling star or an UFO to be seen. I adjourned my search by 11:30PM. You called me this morning. I lamented My Lack of Luck with the UFOs/stars/whatever and he said… the starry shindig only really gets going after Midnight. Gosh, I said. I was at home by then & looking at the weather on the Internet for tonight’s party. By the way… IT’S SUPPOSED TO RAIN!!! In fact, it has been grey & overcast all day long. The elements must be building up for the predicted storms for later on. The news is Friday & Saturday evenings are to be devoid of clouds. Good. I have hope. Gads.

 

 

 

reasonIT’S SUPPOSED TO RAIN!!! And, in fact, it has been grey & overcast all day long.

Aliens Two…

At 10:21PM last night, The Dogs were agitated. There is nothing worse than a jumpy Weimaraner. Two is even more so. Though attempting to find an undemanding position for My Bum Hip on the bed, I surrendered to the futility of that exercise and opted for another. I gallantly raised myself up and announced… WALKIES!!! A typical Weimaraner Pandemonium ensued. Their shenanigans made me think they had sensed an UFO about in Our Parts. Grabbing a high-powered flash-light, off we three trotted for a hopeful Extraterrestrial Pee & Poop Adventure. Out the back gate, the very one to be replaced by You’s extraordinarily pessante late-19th Century pick, past the cordoned-off ramp up to the village above Il Poggiolo with a Halloween-inspired-orange plastic fencing indicating an unequivocal OFF LIMITS… after that unfortunate Shimmy & Shake of last June… and out onto the gravel strewn parking piazza. Lots of sky. The starry night was young. There was no Moon. The Dogs put nose to the ground and were off to do Their Businesses, while I gazed The Heavens above. Nothing. Well, there was quite a bit of airplane traffic passing over-head for Greece, Turkey… or, Tajikistan!!! Charters, probably, at that late hour. I stood and watched and waited and scanned the sky in all directions on a nearly-the-Eve of San Lorenzo, when the upper-atmosphere becomes littered with shooting stars… the celestial flotsam of mid-August. Nothing still. After an hour of playing games of… Name that Planet, Guess the Constellation and How many Boeing 737s have scooted by over-head, I gave up. N’er a UFO to be seen. Darn. I called for The Dogs and discovered they were splayed a short distance from my feet… bored to the point of falling asleep. Gads.