I was about twenty miles south of Delta on the five mile straight-away at Donnelly Dome looking north when I stopped the car and got out. Millions of stars already adorned the cloudless sky; the moon still below the horizon.
Ribbons of green light streaked across the sky, shooting from behind Mount Hayes. They moved to the north and east at incredible speeds. The bands swirled and played, changing intensity and hues. From wavy ribbons they became giant curtains of shimmering light draping from the heavens; streaks of pink and lavender played across each. The pinks darkened; the lavenders deepened to blue. Their dance increased in its frenzy as they claimed the sky above me. They seemed alive, pulsing with heartbeats, inhaling and exhaling. The curtains tangoed and waltzed with each other. At times graceful and sublime, the curtains would fan out treating all who watched to wide bands of color and iridescence. Then, without warning, the lights would shift gears and flash across the sky as though being chased.
I watched, mesmerized, unaware of time, of the temperatures, or my surroundings. I had never seen anything so beautiful. The Aurora Borealis completely dazzled me, captivated me. As I looked skyward, I realized that I wanted to live in such a place where nature and God were both so graceful and articulate. Regardless of what ever hardships may come, I knew I had found home.
