Last night the Aurora Borealis were visible from Oslo. Faint, and not photographable with the tool I had at hand (my phone), but they were certainly there. I’d seen the Northern Lights (nordlys på norsk) twice in my life prior to last night: once on Lake Wapogasset in Wisconsin some 12, 13 years ago, and once from a plane to London even more years ago. Neither vision was of the ethereal, silent, waving veils you see in images, but were rather faint bars of vague light (this is an adjective party) in a diffuse green glow along the horizon.

Last night’s lights over Oslo were not of the vivid order either, to be sure (I saw the glow from my balcony, opened up the Aurora forecast, saw a whopping 7.33 Kp on the dial, flip-flopped downstairs and out to the soccer fields north of my building). They were hazy against the light pollution, despite this capital city’s relatively low levels of it. But the draping shapes were discernible—moreso than I’d ever seen—and offered an intimation of (I hope) lovelier lights to come.

And isn’t that just a nice analogy for the view from here, with but few days before my first school visit, after which the roving begins in earnest.

(And speaking of northern lights, I’ve got a date set for Svalbard, now, in late February! There it is on my map at the right [unless you’re on a mobile device]. You may have to zoom out to see it, hanging out up at 78° N. It’ll be long twilight there, then; the sun won’t rise full for another week or so, bringing the first rays of sunlight since the sun will have set in what, then, will have been last October. No, I won’t apologize for that sentence.)