My first Aurora

We've had several Northern Lights events over Ireland since the Birth of the Blob. At least once, I remember ragin' at my network for neglecting to tell me to get my sorry arse off the sofa and look up at the sky. I can also blame myself because the last time I missed-the Lights-by-inattention was on 10 October 2024, when I drove from Tramore to Dunmore and back for a talk about the RNLI while the Northern Lights were blazin' above oblivious me.

At ~21:30 this last Monday night, from my cosy sofa, I heard a low rumble as if a cow had blundered into our heavy-duty wrough-iron gates. Ever alert for protecting Caisleán uí Blob from external assaults I sprang into m'boots, flicked on the outside lights and went to investigate. As I blundered about in the dark another lesser rumble drew my attention away from the gates towards the SE granite-in-courses shed. I went back inside for a torch and noted that the SE corner of the SE shed had slumped exhausted and waterlogged to the ground. The rest of that gable-wall is stitched together with Ivy Hedera helix but granite is dense and gravity ever-present so we can expect fewer vertical "farmer's-ashlars" and a bigger heap at wall-foot.  Many years ago, that wall was 60% taller, and looming over the road which takes heavy machinery [mighty tractors, trailers, balers, back-hoes] into the fields. I rigged up a temporary scaffolding out of 2x6s and, like McAndrew on a similar project, reduced the height by 2.5 m. With the roof-tree gone the pointy part of gable end was almost flapping about in the wind. Stone by stone from the top, I pegged each part of the jigsaw to the ground. Next time we had John-the-Digger on site, he tidied away the resultant heap. This new heap requires his attention next time he's passing . . . and the ground is dry.

But as my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I twigged that it wasn't January-dark as it should have been 5 hours after Sunset. There was a dark crimson glow off to the West 

. . . with pale almost green blobiness above me and sweeping away to the East. If it hadn't been hosing rain all the previous day, I might have attributed the red glow to another effing eejit setting fire to the hill.  All in all, it wasn't Hammerfest quality, but I realised that I was seeing the Aurora Borealis for the time. I sent an alert to my pal Russ and he replied: "Lucky you...save you a fortune on a Norwegian Arctic cruise :)". He, of course (because he spent his early years out fishing at all times of the day and night and oblivious to the weather) had seen the Northern Lights before.

Meanwhile across the water, The Boy was dragged outside by his resident owl = Gdau.I and he caught the show on camera:

Which goes to show that the Aurora don't piffle about with the lumens. It is clearly visible despite the blast of street lighting from the city of Bath beneath. There was a late night post from RTE, with more quality Aurora-pics from across the country and an explanation of why they happen. Lest there be confusion, Pat's first Aurora, in Buenos Aires ca.1943, was an [in the] altogether different experience!