Eruption of Taal Volcano in Philippines, January 2020
Volcanic lightning occurs when fragments of propelled ash (including glass, ice, and rock) spark against each other in the violent plume that rises above an erupting volcano. The First-Century Roman writer Pliny the Younger is credited with recording the earliest-extant account of a so-called ‘dirty thunderstorm’ after witnessing the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD. “A dreadful black cloud,” Pliny observed in a letter to Tacitus, “was torn by gushing flames and great tongues of fire like much-magnified lightning.” Photos taken in January 2020 of a similar display near Manila, Philippines when Taal Volcano erupted captured the world’s attention. The intense gnashing of darkness and light preserved by the images recalls the cataclysmic beauty of The Destruction of Pompei and Herculaneum, the Romantic artist John Martin’s 1822 painterly recreation of the ancient dirty thunderstorm that Pliny the Younger saw with his own eyes.
This is a copyrighted photograph and I may have to remove it pretty damn quickly.
First of all I must again thank Pexels for providing these photographs. They are from a grouping called Man’s Best Friend.
This is the theme. That dogs are our closest and longest animal companions by far. Indeed, the era that humans befriended wolves is so long ago that an exact time is far from settled. Here’s a piece in the August 2020 issue of Scientific American magazine:
In the 14,000 to 40,000 years during which this domestication process occurred, wild wolves were probably doing better than dogs in terms of numbers – after all, our dogs were probably another food source for humans when times became lean. The first written record of a wolf hunt was recorded in the sixth century B.C.E., when Solon of Athens offered a bounty for every wolf killed.
So in all these photographs today there is a human with the dog!
This recent post from EarthSky is a fascinating read!
By some amazing luck when we came to Merlin, Oregon some eight years ago we found these acres distant from any form of light pollution. Frankly, light pollution at night never crossed our mind at the time.
But almost every evening, when it is dark, I go outside to call in the dogs and look up at the night sky. At this time of the year the Big Dipper is high in the sky. Also the Milky Way can be seen as a faint ‘smudge’ of light. It is a glorious sight and one that I will never, ever tire of seeing.
Posted by Kelly Whitt in ASTRONOMY ESSENTIALS, October 29, 2020
Light at night may be a sign of life on Earth, but the darkness will proclaim our true intelligence. Check out this video on why we need darkness, from Paul Bogard. In his captivating talk Paul describes what we call “light pollution,” the overuse and misuse of artificial light at night. In cities and towns, in suburbs and villages all over the world, we are using more light than we need, and we are using it ways that waste money and energy, harm our physical health, harm the environment, and yes — rob us of the stars. What are the solutions for this problem? A native Minnesotan, Paul Bogard loves night’s natural darkness. So much so that he wrote two successful books about it. He is author of The End of Night: Searching for Natural Darkness in an Age of Artificial Light and editor of Let There Be Night: Testimony on Behalf of the Dark. He also likes to walk through the woods, surrounded by the trees and birds and hidden animals. For 15 years he had a dog who would come with him on these walks. Her name was Luna, like the moon. He misses her a lot. He loves coffee in the morning and red wine at night. Paul is now an assistant professor at James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Virginia, where he teaches creative writing and environmental literature.
The dark is good for our sleep, our biology, and the health of our ecosystems. It’s good for our creativity and our spirits, and, yes, it’s even good for our safety and security. That’s the message of Paul Bogard, who has written extensively on the importance of darkness. His book is titled “The End of Night.” His TEDx Talk – above – focuses on why we need darkness. I’ve spent time mulling over both the book and this video and recommend them highly. In this pandemic year – as many wondered whether lockdowns gave us darker skies – you might enjoy thinking about it, too.
Bogard researched night-shift workers, those who are exposed to light during the hours that most bodies crave darkness and sleep. Humans have a circadian trough from approximately midnight to 6 am. The absence of darkness and sleep during this trough contributes to night-shift work being labeled a probable carcinogen, with workers more likely to suffer from obesity, diabetes, cardiovascular issues, depression, substance abuse, and especially breast and prostate cancer. Light at night disrupts the body’s production of melatonin, which is thought to be needed to keep these types of cancers at bay.
But it’s not just night-shift workers who suffer from exposure to lights at night. Any quick look at a photo of the Earth at night shows the great glows of cities and suburbs spilling across the land and down highways into the edges of the countryside. Even when we keep the lights dark outside our own home, the light from our neighbors’ homes seeps around the cracks in our blinds and splashes across our back patio.
The light we see on maps of Earth at night isn’t just interrupting our sleep or blinding us on a late-night walk with our dog. It’s also wasting money. Bogard claims that billions of dollars are wasted each year throughout the world on light that illuminates nothing on the ground, but instead points straight up.
He points out that proper lighting directs illumination toward the ground, away from the sky and out of the eyes of those nearby. Bright lights near someone’s front door create an illusion of safety, but not true safety, according to Bogard. That’s because the glare shining into our eyes makes it difficult to impossible to see what is hiding in the deep shadows cast by the light.
Policing in some communities has been made much easier with the replacement of constant lighting by motion lights. For example, Bogard recounts how Loveland, Colorado, changed their schoolyard lighting to motion detectors, which made it simple for patrols to see if someone was present or not determined by whether or not the area was dark or light.
The issue with safety and lighting isn’t black or white, or darkness or light. It’s choosing proper lighting for each situation, which helps to make an area safer, saves money, preserves sleep, and protects the dark night sky.
When we protect the night sky, Bogard says, we’re also protecting not just ourselves and our biology but those of the ecosystem around us. In his book “The End of Night,” Bogard writes:
I remember Pierre Brunet arguing in Paris that the presence of an astronomer was the sign of a healthy ecosystem; that when the sky grows too bright for astronomy and the astronomers go away, you know you have a light-polluted sky, and whatever has polluted that sky will eventually pollute other resources, given time.
Countless animals are dependent on darkness, Bogard points out. More than 60% of invertebrates and 30% of vertebrates are nocturnal, having evolved to find food and mates in uninterrupted darkness.
Sea turtles are a well-known example of animal life that needs darkness to survive. Anyone who has been to the oceanfront has seen the lighting adapted to help the sea turtles find their way back to the sea. At my parents’ condo in Florida, the ocean-facing side of lamps have been blacked out so that the newly-hatched sea turtles, upon leaving their nests, are not lured onshore by false light but find their right paths into the water.
When you examine the night sky map of the United States and consider where most of the population lies, it’s not hard to believe, as Bogard tells us, that more than 80% of Americans can no longer see the Milky Way from their home. I live in the suburbs of a large city, for example, and my location on a map of light pollution is nearly bright white.
Recently, I spent some time about three hours west of Chicago in a quiet patch of countryside that is a rare blue shade of darkness on light pollution maps. When I stepped out onto the deck on a crystal-clear evening, I looked up at the stars and was immediately lost.
I’ve been observing and writing about the night sky for two decades, but my familiarity with the sky is linked to recognizing what I see nightly above me, which is usually a dim cousin to the depth and wonder of a truly dark sky. None of the conventional patterns were popping out at me like I was used to: the Big Dipper, the Summer Triangle, the V-shape of Taurus’s head. Instead, a brilliant orange Mars was bright enough to wash out the stars around it, yet the lush Milky Way held her own and a thousand normally unseen stars twinkled in a chorus.
For the first time ever, I witnessed the fuzzy oval glow of the Andromeda Galaxy with nothing more than my eyes. I saw star clusters dig out patches of sky and anchor their surroundings instead of having to hunt them down with binoculars. Cassiopeia and Perseus were nearly swallowed up by the sea of stars flowing from the Milky Way behind them.
We need darkness for moments like that. We need darkness to feed our spirit, protect our health and protect the health of our planet. Light at night may be a sign of life on Earth, but the darkness will proclaim our true intelligence.
Bottom line: A video on why we need darkness from Paul Bogard, author of the book “The End of Night.” The video explains why light pollution is detrimental and why darkness is good for our bodies, our world and our spirits.
So, please, take a moment to view the night sky. If you are somewhere where there is excessive light pollution then plan at some point to get away to the darkness. Also make sure you sleep in a dark room. It’s too easy to let a light or two get in the way of a properly darkened room.
Finally, amongst my many photographs I do not have is one of the night sky. And, frankly, if I did it wouldn’t be as fantastic as the one below. So let me close with a Pexels photograph of the Milky Way by Sam Kolder.