The sky is large on large days and small on small days.
This is life on the prairies.
A thunderstorm brews and you can’t see across the yard for all the rain that’s falling.
A winter storm strikes and the grey blanket is now a white one.
But on clear days I think I can see the curvature of the Earth.
At night, I can certainly see the expanse of space.
It’s impossible to not become enamoured with the stars when you live in a place as flat and as dark as the middle of the ocean. The horizon bisects the celestial sphere and you can watch the constellations march their way across the night sky. The moon actually rises in the west as a thin sliver of light, Earthshine making its darkside glow, and progresses day after day until it appears as a full disk in the east as the sun sets in front of it.
Other planets, comets, nebulae; I’ve seen them all.
And I’m humbled.
Certainly, there are bigger things than me on this world but this world has a ways to go to make it out there.
Where the sky is larger.