I've seen what might've been the Northern Lights on only two occasions: October 2001, the evening Thomas proposed to me in Denali, and August 2005, at our home. Both times, the sky teased us with a distant glow, the kind that a Walmart or obscured moon might emit. Both times, I risked frost bite to photograph the lights and wasted all my time behind the lens, ending up with only failure. Failure to accomplish a dream of photographing this elusive natural phenomenon. Failure to even enjoy seeing it.
So when Thomas told me several of his friends saw the Northern Lights last night from Anchorage and that they were expecting the skies to be lit again tonight, I shrugged.
At 1:30am, Thomas woke up and popped his head into my writing room. "Did you check on the Northern Lights?"
"Oh shoot, totally forgot!" I answered.
Ethan started to cry. While Thomas went to check on him, I peeked out the window and saw stars but nothing else interesting.
"Anything?" Thomas asked, returning with Ethan in his arms.
"Nope!" I said, reaching for my son.
Thomas disappeared downstairs to get his jacket and a few minutes later, ran up with our jackets and told us to get our butts outside. "They are out! You're finally going to see your Northern Lights!"
"Uh, what do we do with Ethan?" I asked.
"Bring him with us!"
Huddled on our driveway, Thomas and I peered into the skies and started to see wisps of pale cream and green light flickering above. It was subtle, for sure...not the kind pictured in the paper above. Nonetheless, it evoked that awe of nature, that "OMG, I love Alaska!" feeling.
Poor Ethan didn't seem to care or maybe he just thought we were nuts!
We stood out there for a long time. Words frozen on our lips. Eyes wide like kids seeing candy for the first time.
In the silence of our admiration, Ethan with eyes still closed whispers, "I like outside. I like lights!"
We started to laugh.
"I wish Kyra could see this," I said.
Thomas asked, "Aren't you going to get your camera?"
"Naw," I said. "Have no idea how to shoot this."
As I rambled on about how I was just going to enjoy the moment with my naked eye, something I rarely do, Thomas gently reminded me that I had the camera manual, and a thick book he bought me on how to do cool stuff with my Canon Rebel which I never read, plus, there was the Internet.
Sigh. Fine. Half an hour later, I was out on the driveway again, bundled up in my snowboarding gear, shivering before a tripod, fidgeting with all these settings I had never played with before on my camera. Meanwhile, the Northern Lights had shifted so that it now spotlighted my house.
Thomas said, "It would be pretty cool if you could capture that."
Another half an hour later (just after Thomas and Ethan briefly checked on me then went upstairs to watch T.V. or maybe keep an eye on me), I was losing steam. The Northern Lights were nearly gone anyway. Every shot was dark. I had no clue what I was doing. I had tried everything recommended by Patrick Endres except the self timer release (cause I don't have one). My fingers and toes were numb.
My last shot of the night, I told myself. Snap. And suddenly, a ghostly image of my house appeared in the image. I jumped up and down in joy for a few minutes. Only the stars glittered in acknowledgement. I felt really insignificant and significant all at once. That's what I love about Alaska. It challenges me. Makes me feel alive.
Thank God Thomas egged me on. He knew just what to say to get me to believe in myself and give me the confidence to pursue my dreams. I kept shooting and changing ISO and f/stop number until I got this!
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