Stars and Light

Stepping outside just now, the sky is awash with stars. Not the very best we have seen here, when the whole sky is silvered and there are stars between stars; but many many more stars than we used to see in the town. It used to irritate me, the amount of light pollution, the thoughtless filling of dark-time with unnecessary light; sometimes external lights would come on when I was walking on the other side of the street. (This led to me occasionally park-walking, savouring the deep silent darkness of the local park empty at night, the stars gentle and moody, the horizon vivid with orange light; the traffic seemed muted, distant. It is a strange need, all that is left of my wild side, this urge to darkness.) Here I have become obsessive about the unnecessary spilling of light. In the countryside light - and sound - travel much further and the light from the kitchen window can travel fifty feet across the paddock, fading but still strong. I switch off lights in rooms we are not using, but I also close curtains like other people switch off lights.