Last Friday, I rugged up and headed out just after sunset to catch a glimpse of the Aurora Australis from the gorge road in Beechworth. My son and I (plus our over-excited Kelpie) sat on a rock and waited... And waited... And waited... We stared at the sky and watched it darken as the sunset colours disappeared. Nothing unusual – just a heap of stars, a half moon and a perplexed dog trying to jump up and lick my face. Would we even see it from here? Maybe I'd missed the best of it that had been seen at 5am that morning? Why hadn't I got up earlier? But I made myself just sit and keep waiting and told my son 'just a bit longer' even if I was losing hope. It was starting to get chilly and I hadn't worn enough layers... Maybe we should just head home?
Then I saw something slowly appear – a subtle brush of pink in the south, some white bands of light on the horizon like someone shining giant spotlights up to the sky. The pinky/purple colours started to spread. I jumped up in excitement and ran around like a mad thing on the rocky outcrop, seeing what it looked like from different places. I was filled with a sense of awe and wonder that only natural phenomena like this seem to give you.
I know that some people saw more dramatic colours or got to see it stretched out all across the southern horizon. Or reflected in the ocean. What I got to see was fairly faint compared to all those incredible shots I'd seen on Facebook. But still somehow it was enough to make me smile all evening. I loved the slow way the aurora emerged and how you just had to sit and be patient to see it. It wasn't showy and dramatic – just a subtle reminder that there are some amazing things going on out there in the universe if you take the time to slow down and notice.
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