As I reclined in my chair, along the rocky shore of Lake Ontario, I thought, almost out loud, “This must have been the sort of night that inspired Vincent van Gogh to paint his famous work Starry Night. Far away from any traces of civilization the sky was a jet black seldom seen in more populous regions. Light pollution from millions of man-made sources dulls the stars here in Connecticut and makes the Milky Way all but invisible. But up here on Henderson Harbor, on the northern border of our country, there was none of that, only the soft flickering of a bonfire and the gentle wash of waves as they embraced the shore near my feet.

I took another sip of a delightful local wine purchased just hours before at a local winery. Notice I didn’t say “vineyard” as we were far too far north for most wine grapes to grow with the exception of the Frontenac variety which has been specially bred to survive harsh winters and sub-zero temperatures. While this grape does produce a delicious wine, the samples I tried were a bit too fruity to be taken seriously by a serious wine connoisseur. However, they would fit in surprisingly well at a picnic or with a casual dinner on the porch, or frankly, for just sipping by a campfire.

No sooner had the last few muted rays of the golden sunset disappeared than the Milky Way soared overhead to take their place. The human mind simply cannot comprehend the vast number of stars that make up our galaxy or the vast number of galaxies that make up the universe. I have long since stopped trying to wrap my mind around such complexities and on this night I was just content to sit in awe, knowing I was looking at the very edge of our home galaxy.

As I leaned back and gazed at the endless firmament above my head, a shooting star streaked madly across the sky only to disappear in a blaze of glory just before finding its way to earth. This was the third meteor we had seen that night and it was soon followed by a tiny pinpoint of light slowly making its way from west to east. At first I thought this may be an airplane but I quickly realized that it was too high and had no flashing lights. I soon realized that what I was watching was a far distant satellite on its endless journey around our planet.

Another sip of wine and the lyrics of Don McLean’s tune, Starry, Starry Night began to weave their way through my thoughts. I felt a pang of regret that I hadn’t paid better attention when, as a youth, some well meaning teacher tried to teach a classroom full of young, restless adolescents to locate and identify the constellations. The only two I can now locate are the Big Dipper (Ursula Major) and the Little Dipper (Ursula Minor). A quick glance toward the north confirmed that they were still there and displayed more sharply than I had seen them in many years.

All too soon the evening’s fire began to burn its way down to a mound of glowing embers. Kathy and her sister, Ann, decide to turn in early after a long busy day. I held a flashlight as they slowly made their way up the steps that led up the small cliff to the old Victorian house we had rented for a week. My brother-in-law, Kyle, and I stayed behind, reluctant to leave the warmth of the embers and the brilliance of the night sky behind.

One by one the lights blinked out in the house above our heads and a quiet settled down about us like a warm feather comforter. We sat without speaking, unable, perhaps, to express the wonder of this perfect night. It was then that I first saw it. What appeared at first to be a beam of blue-green light grabbed our attention. It reflected across the rippling waters of the lake like the faint glow of a distant ship. As we sat transfixed it began to unfold like the curtain on some vast heavenly stage. The light began to shimmer and waver as the colors shifted and changed.

We suddenly realized that we were seeing the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) for the first time in our lives. Time seemed to stand still as the lights danced and shifted over the lake. They would at one time seem to fill the northern sky and then again they would fade and ebb like the waves upon the shore. One of us should have gone to awake our wives from their beds but for some reason we were held firmly in place by the spectacle unfolding above. For fear of missing a single moment of nature’s most beautiful display we allowed the minutes to slip past.

Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the dancing lights faded away. Only the memory of their existence lingered along with a vague feeling of guilt for not having shared this moment with Kathy and Ann. Kyle and I starred for a few moments longer, turned and climbed the steps to our beds and dreams of untold stars and gentle late-summer breezes.

Our week on the shores of Lake Ontario sped by far too quickly but the warm memories of our adventure will linger on for years to come. Ann and Kyle have returned to their home in Florida and already plans are afoot for future excursions to distant and exotic locals. However, no matter how many adventures await our little group, the sight of the Northern Lights dancing across the sparkling waves of that gigantic northern lake will always stay in my mind.