Puerto Ricans spooked by blazing meteor


Spooky indeed … ‘Eddie Irizarry, an astronomy professor in Puerto Rico and vice president of the Caribbean Astronomy Society, told the Associated Press the meteor was likely several feet long and was visible for about 10 seconds from all over the island. “That makes it into quite a rare event,” Irizarry said. A National Weather Service satellite spotted the fireball at around 4:30 p.m Friday.’

Repeating Islands

porlosmaresI really need to quote my friend María I. A. C. on this one: “Can locusts be far behind? Dios mío.” Vincent Barone (New York Post) reports on the orange-tinged meteor seen by so many Puerto Ricans across the island yesterday.

A streaking meteor soaring low over Puerto Rico amazed and unsettled residents already grappling with devastating earthquakes. Puerto Ricans posted photos and videos of the fireball on social media after it passed overhead Friday afternoon — with some fearing that it was a crashing aircraft.

Eddie Irizarry, an astronomy professor in Puerto Rico and vice president of the Caribbean Astronomy Society, told the Associated Press the meteor was likely several feet long and was visible for about 10 seconds from all over the island. “That makes it into quite a rare event,” Irizarry said.

A National Weather Service satellite spotted the fireball at around 4:30 p.m Friday.

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Sunday Morning


‘Margaret Renkl, from “My Mother Pulls Weeds, Birmingham, 1978,” Late Migrations: A Natural History of Love and Loss’… a beautiful sight for weary eyes!

Live & Learn


My mother’s need for order has nothing to do with the chaos of a life with too little space and too little money and almost no chance to make something beautiful of it all. The chance to create loveliness is always waiting just past the door of our matchbox rental. She never prepares for gardening—no special gloves, no rubber garden clogs, no stiff canvas apron with pockets for tools. No tools, most of the time. She steps out of the house—or the car, setting her bags down before she even makes it to the door—and puts her hands in the soil, tugging out the green things that don’t belong among the green things that do. Now another bare square of ground appears, and there is room for marigold seeds, the ones she saved when last year’s ruffled yellow blooms turned brown and dried to fragile likenesses of themselves. The light…

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