Run to find shelter, accept the inevitable fact you’re going to get soaking wet, or scramble to use your bag as a makeshift umbrella? Never mind that it’s not waterproof.
What about the Sun?
A star 8 light minutes* away from us, warming our planet, allowing life to thrive. Never mind its occasional solar flares, which give us aurora borealis lights. It’s a calm giant, guarding the Earth.
On days when clouds cover the Sun and the glowing ball of fusion is replaced with a homogeneous lightbox for a sky, I complain. I’m told it’s very British to complain about when it rains, when the Sun’s too bright, when the wind is too strong; no weather is perfect enough.
Growing up in the Sahara Desert, where you get approximately five cloudy days and maybe one or two days of rain each year, you grow to resent but respect the hot ball in the sky. It’s a good clock and a very nice friend. You might be crying, but go outside and it’ll remind you that you’re alive. It warms the ground, dries the plants, and scorches the asphalt, but the excessive volume of water that my mother waters the sand with has allowed something green to sprout. It’s not a diverse or colourful ecosystem, since most animals hide away during the day. The sun is angry at noon, you see…
A small black bird chirps and hops into frame. There are no worms, there is no soil, just seeds in sand that long to be allowed to die, but mother doesn’t care. It must be green, she says. She’s always right, for if she’s not, then you misheard her.
The contrast to the stable heat is her volatile and unpredictable nature.
I learned early on that plans rarely survive reality. Accepting unpredictability, being able to improvise, and appreciating imperfection are vital life skills that I deeply value.
I thrive at night. Some call it revenge procrastination. The peaceful calmness of darkness covers the Earth at night. Our forever companion of flaming hot gas is replaced by a solace mirror, Luna (the Moon, as it is commonly known). When I’m losing track of time, gazing at stars too far to reach, I see a dog on the Moon. A happy face, with floppy ears and a stuck-out tongue. A reminder that even in the silent dark night you’re not alone. People might be asleep, but the Moon is there to listen. During the darkest night and at the loneliest place, it will be your lighthouse, a caring parent that accepts you as you are and loves you unconditionally: Luna.
It is unfortunate that for this summer project, there has been a total of zero minutes of astronomical twilight [1].
My research doesn’t require me to stargaze, but when I can, I get lost amongst the stars.
During bone-chilling nights, when the stars are allowed to roam free in our sky, you might be lucky enough to see a shooting star, and when you do, don’t forget to make a wish. Satellites are more common than ‘shooting stars’, as they’re called, because they’re not stars—they’re meteors disintegrating in our atmosphere. Even at night, the Earth is keeping us safe.
“Only miss the Sun when it starts to snow”—wise words from ‘Let Her Go’, written by the contemporary poet Passenger [2].
As I reach the end of my research period, it’s clear that nothing went according to plan. Yet adaptability, community, and hope kept me going. Imperfection became the beauty, and failure a comforting teacher. It’s not a new lesson, but one I constantly rediscover. Some call it nostalgia.
*light minutes: distance a photon (light particle) travels in a minute, as it travels at a constant speed in a vacuum.
References:
- Timeanddate.com. Sunrise and sunset times in St Andrews, June 2025 [Internet]. 2025 [cited 2025 Jul 8]. Available from: https://www.timeanddate.com/sun/uk/st-andrews?month=6&year=2025
- Passenger. Let Her Go.
- Photos have been taken by myself on my own device