Aurora Borealis

I love the north. When I was young, my parents used to take us camping each summer. My mother now discloses that it was one of the few holidays they could afford for our family. She also freely shares some minor insight into how much bloody work it was for her while the rest of us were off fishing, swimming or exploring the provincial parks where we stayed.

Before we were married, my wife and I took a number of our own camping trips and made some pretty great memories in the process. We continued to camp after we had children, but we began to understand what my mother meant about work once one begins to camp with children.

My daughter loved camping. She would spend the entire day in the water, coming out for only for meals or when it got dark. Around the campfires, she would dance and sing, working the crowd. When the kids were put to bed, we would stare at the fire and watch the embers rise in the hot air and drift until they disappeared into the stars that filled the night sky.

After some time, we would open the tents and retire ourselves, nativagating the sea of sleeping bags and bodies to find a spot to sleep.

With young kids, it wasn't uncommon to be woken up during the night with some complaint, the need to go to the washroom or a request for something to drink. You would unzip the tent and step outside, shaking the cold evening off after having left the comfort of your sleeping bag.

I clearly remember one evening when my daughter needed to go to the washroom. It must have been a particularly cold night as I remember unzipping the tent to let her out, but not necessarily leaving the confines of the sleeping bag.

After a few minutes, I heard her small voice call "Dad?".

"Yeh", I answered, "Are you done?"

"Dad, there's something wrong with the sky?" she said with some uncertainty in her voice.

"What?" I was still half asleep.

"There's something wrong with the sky" she said again. "Come here!"

I unzipped my sleeping bag and pulled on my shoes, carefully leaving the tent and trying not to step on anyone else who was lucky enough to still be asleep. I stepped outside and found Hannah standing and staring at the sky. I followed her gaze upwards.

The night sky was alive and electric. It took me a few moments to comprehend what I was seeing.

The aurora borealis, or northern lights, filled the cold autumn sky. They were more dramatic, more vivid and more active than I had ever seen in my life. I had seen them many times before, green magnetic waves dancing on the horizon. They were nothing like tonight's show.

Tonight, they looked as though the hand of God was drawing on the black canvas of the night's sky. One moment, they took the form of some animal, an eagle's head or a bear. A moment later, the magnetic field fluctuated, erasing the image and replacing it with another. Hannah and I watched quietly and completely in awe.

After a few moments, I called out to the others in the neighbouring tents. One by one, they arose and joined us to watch the magnificent show that the lights gave us. After some time, they lessened in intensity and we slowly lost our interest. One by one, we returned to our tents.

To this day, I have never seen them as vibrant as that night.

I'm awfully glad that Hannah had to answer nature's call that evening, no pun intended.