Witnessing spectacular starry skies or the northern lights, known in Shetland as the mirrie dancers, is always a magical experience. Catherine Munro recalls a memorable moment sky-watching with her son.
It was around 8pm when I realized I had forgotten to bring in the laundry from the line. I reluctantly went out to retrieve it when I noticed silvery rays of light stretching high into the night sky.
I rushed inside to tell the children. My youngest boy was asleep already but his older brother, Rohan, was awake and eager to see. By the time Rohan was wrapped up in jacket, hat and wellies, the lights had faded to a silvery-green shimmer suspended above the horizon.
Something I quickly learned after moving to Shetland was how unpredictable the aurora can be. Alerts of high activity can result in disappointing shows or sightings might be obscured by cloud. Other days, readings might suggest activity is unlikely only for the sky to be lit up with colour and movement. The only way to know for sure is to go outside and see .
We walked a short distance to a loch, away from the lights of nearby houses. Other than the faint glow on the northwest horizon the darkness was absolute. Rohan didn’t mind the lack of aurora, he was so amazed by the sheer number of stars visible. On this clear winter’s night they appeared so much closer and brighter than usual. With my sky map app, the largest point of light became Jupiter and shapes and patterns transformed into named constellations.
The glow on the horizon brightened and some rays began to stretch up, green with intermittent bursts of orange. "I can see colours!", Rohan exclaimed before asking if it is electricity that makes the aurora. I explained that the light we were watching was caused by electrically charged particles that have travelled from the sun. He was fascinated, asking question after question. I smiled as I answered what I could, happy that our environment cultivates this joy and love of learning.
The glow on the horizon brightened and some rays began to stretch up, green with intermittent bursts of orange.
We watched the rays spread across the sky, bright enough that their colours reflected on the smooth surface of the loch, light above and below. The pillars reached high, moving, swaying, brightening and fading.
"They look like people dancing", he said in wonder as the light moved.
"They are dancers", I said, explaining that the Shetland name for the aurora is the mirrie dancers, where mirr means blur.
The light we were watching was exactly like dancers moving across the sky, the speed of their movement obscuring their edges as they merged with the darkness.
Discover more about Shetland's night skies by visiting our Winter page.