The Transit of Venus. The planet crosses between earth and the sun, a visible black dot cruising along for about six hours with the sun as backdrop. I've been trying to get some solar eclipse glasses, and a hefty lens for my camera, but I think I waited too long. One major dealer of these specs is still sold out from the eclipse and another only accepts orders in bulk. Now, if I were having a big Venus party, 25 solar glasses would be fine. Too bad I'm not.
This is a pretty important event--whether you're into astronomy or not--because it won't happen again until 2117. I'm fairly certain most of us won't be around for the next viewing.
Here's the map showing the trajectory. Except for parts of Africa and most of South America, nearly everyone else on the planet will be able to see the Transit, either June 5th, or June 6th, depending on where you are in the world.
However, when I pick him up two hours later he's ready for the red carpet...maybe his paw print at Grauman's before lunch at Prego? He prances, he smiles, he knows he's handsome.
Max was very worried for his buddy when I dropped Ozzy off, and we drove away without him. Thankfully, he doesn't need a groomer as his hair is short, and I can bathe and brush him myself.
Later, after we picked Ozzy up and came home, Max had a good long sniff, then they shoulder-bumped each other--a guy thing, I guess--and he plopped down on the floor, exhausted from all the excitement. He watched me take a picture of Oz, then before he could react, I turned and snapped one of him; his only acknowledgement was the twist of one ear. We have made such great strides since the early days when he would run in terror the minute I picked up the camera.
The weather is changing. We're going from cool rain to scorching heat. Today is the interim: warm, gentle breeze, blue skies. I have the doors and windows open, the overhead fan slowly whirling, the soft scent of Papier d'Armenie wafting in the warm air.
(Read this wonderful post from Mr London Street about this paper. I used to buy it at this great little shop in Aberdour (a village in Fife, Scotland), though here in southern Oregon I can only buy it from Amazon. Still. At least I have that option.)
The smell fills my head with images of mysterious, shadowy alleys in Marrakesh, ripe with the odors of exotic flowers and spices. I always think of The Arabian Nights--in particular, that most excellent movie with Dougray Scott and Mili Avital--a film I've probably watched a dozen times.
And hmmm. Speaking of that...I think, while the scent of mystery lingers in the air, that I'm just going to go and make that a baker's dozen...