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A beautifully staged and wonderfully acted ­communications breakdown

Written in 1980 by Brian Friel and set in a fictional village in agricultural Ireland in the early 1800s, Translations deals with the imperialism of encroaching England, the tradition of language and the refusal to compromise that tradition for communication’s sake. The Masqueraders’ production is beautifully staged and wonderfully acted, which makes a questionable artistic choice all the more unfortunate.
    The setting is a hedge school, in this case a very realistic and near life-sized barn where a local schoolmaster teaches a handful of students the classics in Latin and Greek. Few of the students know the world outside their little village. The alcoholic Hugh, the schoolmaster, drills them like a master sergeant. His son Manus is an assistant of sorts with aspirations to run his own school. Owen, the successful other son, returns as a translator for two English army engineers. Their charge is to map the area and rename the places in a way more friendly to English — thus, bastardizing their traditional names.
    Both Irish and English characters speak their own languages, but the audience hears only English, except in place names.
    As Owen and the English orthographer Lieutenant Yolland work, Yolland falls in love with the Irish land, culture and hedge school student, Maire, who also is the apple of Manus’s eye. Tension rises when Yolland goes missing. When Manus leaves as well, heartbroken, he looks like the guilty party.
    On a search party, English soldiers go on a rampage. Captain Lancey (Jonson Henry) threatens first to shoot all livestock if Yolland is not found within 24 hours, then evict the villagers and destroy their homes if he is not found within 48 hours. Henry enters with humor, but, as does the play, becomes the harbinger of bad things to come.
    Jett Watson as Owen and Josh Goetz as Yolland strike a nice camaraderie as they take the stage. Comedy, marked by Yolland’s constant referral to Owen as Roland, eases into drama as the Englishman takes offense at his own work, figuratively evicting a people from their land by changing generation-old names. Watson is especially effective as he finds himself at the center of not only familial tensions, but political and martial ones as well.
    As Hugh, Leith Daghistani gives us a likeable yet military-like schoolmaster who seems to love his village but is prepared to take over the national school that will come to town and be open to all. Chris Hudson as Manus, Michael Donovan as Jimmy Jack, Bubba Scott as Doalty, Clara Navarro as Sarah, Portia Norkaitis as Maire, Megan Rausch as Bridget all bring the locals to life. They give us humor — this is in places a very funny show — as well as anger.
    A five-piece combo (calling themselves the Dropkick Middies after the well-known Irish rockers Dropkick Murphys) plays very good Irish music before the show and between acts. The set is a marvel, an almost life-sized multi-level barn that also houses Hugh and Manus. Huge, rustic and wooden, looking like it might have been trucked in from South County, this is one of the more beautifully realized sets I’ve seen in any area theater for quite some time.
    So why taint such realism by projecting images of various Irish locations along the back? It’s justified in the program by director Christy Stanlake as giving “a sense of presence to the characters’ homelands” and showing “the profound relationship between the specific lands and their original Irish names.”  Throughout the play, when an Irish locale is pronounced correctly, its image is projected onto the set. When the wrong or Anglicized name is used, the image disappears. It’s a clever idea in theory. In practice, it confuses the audience. Not having read the director’s notes, many thought the images were technical miscues. They are hardly recognizable because the back of the set is uneven wood, exactly like an old barn, not a smooth screen made for showing slides.
    Worse — and this is the inexcusable part — the very good work of this cast of actors must compete with the double distraction of these images popping on and off and also being projected onto the actors’ faces and bodies. When the images are wiped away, we feel relief that we can finally see, unmarked, both the beautiful set and these very talented actors.
    Sometimes less is more, and sometimes an idea that clearly doesn’t work needs to be discarded, regardless of how creative it sounded in theory. The actors, and their audience, deserve better.


Playing thru Nov. 22: FSa 8pm at Mahan Theatre, U.S. Naval Academy, Annapolis. No on-yard parking; walk thru Gate 3 with photo ID (16+). $12; rsvp: 410-293-TIXS.

 

Give thanks and get ready

It’s a good thing the winter holidays start with a feast. You’re going to need all your energy to keep up with the oncoming season.
    Thanksgiving, only a week hence, is a command performance throughout America. Anticipation and anxiety pair as we prepare for the communal feasting demanded by our native holiday.
    Have we the time, energy and skill to manage a multi-course menu? Or had we better eat out or carry in? The Bay Weekly family spans the options, with some cooking … others going over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house … some dining out … and others carrying out grocery-store feasts of turkey, ham and roast beef — each with its side dishes and desserts.
    Even more complex, can we manage the dynamics of our families?
    Who’s coming to dinner? Ask that innocent question, and you’ll hear stories that make you classify your own family in the ranks of the nearly sane.
    I’ve celebrated a whole lot of Thanksgivings. Most have approached with their fair share of trepidation and doubt. A few lived up to my worst fears. There was the Thanksgiving when … I could tell you that story, but you could tell me your own, just as traumatic.
    Yet I look forward to this year’s feast with hope, encouraged by the wisdom of writer Caiti Sullivan, whose Thanksgivings are far fewer than mine.
    “The food on the Thanksgiving table is a bounty to share while celebrating family, friends and the joys of life,” she writes in this week’s feature story, Loving Your Leftovers. “Preparing the feast is a labor of love among us.”
    That’s just what Thanksgiving is about. What better way there than affirming her words in our hearts?
    As well as a good attitude, Caiti brings us six recipes for transforming Thanksgiving leftovers into a continuing feast.
    Leftovers, after all, are one of the few certainties we who cook the Thanksgiving feast can depend on. With all that’s going on, we can’t be sure the turkey will be moist, the gravy lump-free, the guests timely or Uncle Max sober. But there will be leftovers. To that end, I buy a 20-plus-pound turkey for eight or 10 people, and I collect a tall stack of carryout containers. My family and my guests have read Caiti’s recipes, and we’re all eager to eat them.

Christmas Is Coming
    Then, before you’ve worked your way through the leftovers, begins the countdown toward Christmas. It’s a season worth savoring whatever your faith.
    The fun starts Thursday, Nov. 20, when you can Trot for a Turkey through Watkins Park’s Winter Festival of Lights or walk your dog through Lights on the Bay at Sandy Point State Park.
    In this issue, Bay Weekly keeps you up with the fun in Season’s Bounty: Your Essential Guide to Holiday Happenings. Illuminations, Shops and Sales, Santa Sightings, Holidays at the Theater, Skate Your Way into the Holidays and a day-by-day calendar — plus dozens of advertisers offering wondrous things — stuff its 48 pages with seasonal opportunity for you, the kids, family, friends and visitors. Open it up today and fill your calendar from ours.
    Without Season’s Bounty, you won’t know what you’re missing.

Sandra Olivetti Martin
Editor and publisher; editor@bayweekly.com

Who needs superpowers when you have a robot?

Hiro Hamada (voiced by Ryan Potter: Supah Ninjas) is not a nerd. Sure, he graduated high school at 13, but he bypasses higher education for a more lucrative career in robot battles, where his apparently innocuous bot dismantles the fiercest opponent with ease. When Hiro’s hustle runs afoul of both bot-fighting thugs and the police, his older brother Tadashi (Daniel Henney: Revolution) decides enough is enough.
    Tadashi forces his little brother to visit his college, which Hiro reviles as Nerd School. He is surprised, however, when he meets Tadashi’s fellow nerds. Students are working on amazing projects utilizing lasers, chemicals and robots. Hiro’s hero, robotics innovator Robert Callaghan (James Cromwell: Murder in the First) is the head of the school.
    Inspired, Hiro ditches the bot battles. But just as he wins a slot in the exclusive school, Tadashi dies in a freak accident.
    Overwhelmed with grief, Hiro resumes his old lifestyle. But his pain activates Tadashi’s passion project, a health bot named Baymax (Scott Adsit: St. Vincent) who cannot be deactivated until his patient is satisfied with his care. Hiro wants nothing to do with the bot, but Baymax is unyielding.
    As Hiro bonds with Baymax, he discovers that Tadashi’s death might not have been accidental. Hiro plans to catch the killers by reprogramming Baymax and recruiting Tadashi’s classmates. Using science, they become superheroes.
    A story about love, grief and revenge, Big Hero 6 is a superhero movie for worshipers of brain over brawn. Directors Don Hall (Winnie the Pooh) and Chris Williams (Bolt) give their movie substance as well as spectacle. They spend time cultivating the Hiro/Tadashi relationship, ensuring we feel Hiro’s loss, crushing grief, need for revenge and moral quandaries.
    The brothers’ relationship gives the story its emotional context. Star power comes from the inflatable health bot. Uncomplicated, slow-moving and rotund, Baymax is a robotic Pooh Bear. As voiced by Adsit, he is both childlike and wise, the perfect companion for a grieving boy. When Hiro attempts to change the bot’s basic programming, Baymax reveals that he might be more complex than he seems.
    Big Hero 6 is a kids’ film with big ideas. But it doesn’t always give time to developing them. The plot can feel rushed, and the main mystery is easily solved by anyone over the age of 10. Tadashi’s friends rarely rise above stereotypes (the tough girl, the neat freak, the idiot and the girly-girl), but top-notch voice work gives them personality.
    The story for this animated Disney film is adapted from a Marvel comic book.

Good Animation • PG • 108 mins.

Constellation joins moon and Jupiter, hosts meteors

As twilight gives way to darkness, look for Mars low in the south-southwest. At first magnitude, the red planet is no brighter than your average star, so scouring the horizon with binoculars may help you find it. Can you make out the teapot shape of Sagittarius below? Mars is just above the handle, while the spout points toward the now-set sun.
    Jupiter rises in the east-southeast a little before midnight, and by 6am it is almost directly overhead. Early Friday morning it is less than 10 degrees above the last-quarter moon. Saturday the moon is just below Aldebaran, the heart of Leo the lion. Sunday Jupiter, Regulus and the moon form a near-straight line, each roughly 10 degrees apart.
    The following nights, the moon shifts eastward compared to Jupiter and Regulus, until Wednesday a thin crescent rises before dawn with blue-white Spica just three degrees away.
    The waning moon shouldn’t interfere with the peak of this year’s Leonid meteor shower in the wee hours Tuesday morning. With clear, dark skies you may see 15 to 20 meteors in a given hour. The meteors can appear anywhere in the sky, but traced back they appear to emanate from the shower’s namesake, Leo.

If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem

Think again if you think shade trees pretty much care for themselves.
    In the forest, where trees care for themselves, fewer than one percent of seedlings grow to become marketable trees.
    What do you know about how the crotch angle, crossing branches and branch spacing affect tree health? Allowing narrow crotch angles on branches and stems to remain on young trees will result in premature tree damage. Rot is another common problem with narrow crotch angles. Branches that rub against each other result in early breakage. Young trees need to be trained to proper branch spacing.
    Nursery-grown trees raised in containers tend to develop girdling roots as they mature. Most girdling roots can be seen above ground or at the ground level. Look for roots circling or partially circling the trunk. Often the roots are embedded or being absorbed by the trunk. Cut such roots away with a sharp chisel or ax and remove them.  
    Parking your vehicles beneath the branches of the trees, do you consider the 800 to 1,500 pounds of pressure exerted by each tire? Ninety percent of trees roots can be found in the upper 10 feet of soil. The weight of cars and trucks compacts the soil, as do the tires of lawn mowers and the feet of people, including those who enjoy the shade of the branches during the summer.
    The roots of plants cannot grow in soil with 85 percent compaction or more. If you cannot poke a sharp dowel or digging shovel into the ground six inches or more, the soil is too compacted for roots to grow.
    Every year at this time, you rake away the leaves that fall to the ground. In the forest, fallen leaves return both organic matter and nutrients to the soil, hence to the tree.
    Nearly all fertilizer applied in the shade of branches is used by the turf. Very little nutrient from that fertilizer leaches down to the roots of the tree. Applying excessive amounts of fertilizer to satisfy the needs of the tree roots will result in fertilizer burn of the turf.
    Are you your shade trees’ friend or enemy?


Tree Help Needed

Q    In the spring I planted several fig trees. They  seem to be very slow growers and are now only maybe one foot high. I want them to live this winter. Any suggestions on what I should do?
    –C. Buchheister via email

A    If your fig trees are only a foot tall after growing for one year, your soil is deficient and poor. Your fig plants should be four to five feet tall at the end of the first growing season. Have your soil tested. With their limited root system, I doubt if the trees will survive the winter no matter what you do.

Q    Can you advise on how to eliminate the black soot or mold that is covering the leaves on my Nelly Stevens holly trees?
    –Lauren Avery, Millersville

A    The black on your Nelly Stevens holly is sooty-mold. I suspect your holly may be infested with scale insects. Inspect the undersides of the leaves and stems. The scale insects may be white or yellow-brown like small drops of wax. If your hollies are under maple or tulip poplar trees, it could be that the scale is feeding on the trees and the honeydew has drifted on the holly causing the sooty-mold to grow. Sooty-mold is best removed with a strong jet of water from a garden hose or power washer.



Ask Dr. Gouin your questions at DR.FRGouin@gmail.com. Please include your name and address.

The fast, bouncy motion of the lure brought me fish

My original plan was to get a few big perch for a family fish fry on the weekend. I also hoped to capture smaller ones to live-line for rockfish later in the day at the Bay Bridge. It didn’t quite work out that way.
    With a healthy supply of grass shrimp and some razor clams for the perch, I splashed my skiff and made the short run out to the river channel. Slowly cruising a pattern, I looked for the big school of perch I had successfully worked over the previous week. It had been a mixed bunch of big whities plus a fair number of the little fellas (three to five inches) that might prove tempting for rockfish.
    My clever strategy for the day succumbed to reality. The perch were no longer in residence. Drifting and fishing the grass shrimp and clam and searching hard over a wide area, I discovered that the river’s channel as well as its edges were as empty as Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.
    Heading out into the Bay I decided to try the Bay Bridge for rockfish anyway. Though my hopes of catching a supply of bait perch had been dashed, I had a fallback. I always carry a box of various sized jigs.
    The fishing jig is named after the dance. Folk dances performed with fast, bouncy motions are called jigs (i.e. the Irish jig), and that is how this lure is worked in the water. Its sudden, jerky movements imitate a small fish in panic.
    Nearing the center bridge span, I was greeted by a heart-warming sight. Birds were whirling, screaming and picking off small baitfish being forced to the surface by the feeding stripers under them.
    I hurried to tie on a quarter-ounce BKD in chartreuse, eased up to casting distance just outside the frenzied flock and pitched my lure. Within seconds, I was tight to a rockfish that put up quite a feisty battle. Netting the fat but undersized fish, I unhooked it and flipped it back over the side.
    Another dozen casts resulted in more small throwbacks, so I paused to reconsider my options. Switching out the BKD for a two-ounce Stingsilver with a small dropper fly attached above, I tried working the bottom, 50 feet down. There is sometimes a larger class of fish under those breaking on the surface.
    This time I hooked what I thought was a much heavier striper. As I drew it close to the boat it turned out to be a double hookup, neither of which was remarkable in size. But then I noticed that one of the struggling fish was a perch. While a 14-inch striper is not particularly impressive, a fat 10-inch perch definitely is.
    Swinging the pair on board, I flipped the rockfish back over the side and the winter-thick perch into my cooler. Subsequent drifts netted more heavy perch and more undersized rock.
    I had to be careful when bringing in these fish. You can horse a schoolie rockfish in quickly for release, but if you try that on a big perch it will too often result in a lost fish. The perch’s mouth structure is much more fragile that the striper’s. Each hookup became a guessing game. I gently fought the fish to the surface, but what fish? Was there a big fat perch on the hook or another throwback striper? Or both?
    After an hour of constant action the sky darkened, the wind picked up and a bit of rain spat down. Declaring victory, I racked my gear and headed back for the ramp. Despite my poor start, I could feed my family. All that good fortune came from dancing a jig.

Can you stretch your comfort zone into 18th century debauchery?

Give The Theatre at Anne Arundel Community College credit for refusing to play it safe, for going out on a theatrical limb in its choice of productions.
    Last spring’s Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, as complex and raucous as any musical you’ll see, was a case in point. The current Les Liaisons Dangereuses is another example of the theater’s propensity for asking itself, and its audiences, to stretch beyond their comfort zones.
    You may know Les Liaisons Dangereuses from the 1988 movie with John Malkovich, Michelle Pfeiffer and Glenn Close. That was just one of several adaptations of French author Choderlos de Laclos’ 1782 novel of the same name. The novel described the dangerous manipulations of former lovers Le Vicomte de Valmont and La Marquise de Merteuil, two aristocrats who treat love, lust and the feelings of their prey as little more than their own little chess game, with human hearts and bodies as the pieces on their board.
    Valmont wants to seduce Madame de Tourvel, the virtuous wife whose husband is out of town. Merteuil, meanwhile, is angry because Cécile Volanges has been pulled out of the convent to marry a former lover. When Valmont falls in love with de Tourvel, Marteuil becomes jealous. She and Valmont turn their fantasy league into a battleground of the sexes, winner take all. Hearts are broken and lives destroyed.
    Revealing too much of the plot would reveal too much of what is designed to keep you as interested in these two players as you are disgusted by their hubris. The bottom line is that these are nasty people, inflicting their nastiness onto others as sport. Director Kristen Clippard, whose previous work you may have seen locally with the Annapolis Shakespeare Company, does an admirable job taking us back to the 1700s. The pace moves right along, from the characters’ dialogue to the tightly choreographed scene changes.
    The set is ingenious, majestic and beautiful. Instead of the usual painted flats, we have regal gilded frames flanking see-through material that not only allows us to observe the comings and goings of characters but also provides cleverly lit placement of two bedchambers and a climactic sword fight. Costumes are as beautiful as the set; clearly no expense was spared in securing era-appropriate finery.
    As Valmont and Merteuil, Erik Alexis and Aladrian Wetzel do a credible job keeping the pace of a dialogue-heavy piece. Their back-and-forth helps the audience understand the machinations they are planning. Each does a nice job enunciating, critical in a piece translated from French.
    But the spark needed to help the audience believe that these two are former lovers was missing, as was the maliciousness that should underlie their immoral string-pulling. Perhaps it was opening night jitters, and subsequent performances will see them relax into the calculating chemistry the two must share with the audience.
    The supporting cast is solid overall, though in several cases, as with the leads, a little more emotional connection would help link individual performances with the whole. Especially natural in their roles are Natalie Carlisle as de Tourvel, giving us the virtue and uncertainty of one of the few women who, at least at first, is able to fend off Valmont’s advances, and Kat McKerrow as Madame de Rosemonde, Valmont’s aunt.
    This is a show worth seeing, beautiful visually, with Clippard and the cast doing a fine job keeping things moving. All that’s needed is for some of the cast to sink their teeth into what drives these multi-dimensional characters, and to connect with each other. This, in turn, will strengthen their connection with the audience, so that we can feel the inherent danger of these dangerous liaisons.


2.5 hours with intermission. Playing thru Nov. 16: Th 7:30pm, FSa 8pm; Su 2pm at Robert E. Kauffman Theater at AACC Pascal Center, Arnold; $15 w/discounts; rsvp: 410-777-2457; boxoffice@aacc.edu.

Hibernation is convenient when you live in a shell

Wiggling antennae poke out from under coiled shell of the second-most prolific species on earth, the gastropodal snail. On land and in oceans and freshwater, 43,000 snail species live. North America has 500 land species, which brings them, usually stealthily, to all our gardens.
    But you won’t see them this time of year, for many snails hibernate from October until April. Hibernation is convenient for snails as they carry their beds on their backs. In dry areas, snails can hibernate for years.
    Covering their bodies with a thin layer of mucus to prevent drying out, snails live off the stored fat in their bodies. They dig a small hole in the ground and bury themselves or find a warm patch to slumber the winter away. Then, they close off the entrance of their shells with dried mucus — called an epiphragm — that hardens into tough skin. This snail-made mucus door prevents predators from harming them during hibernation and keeps them warm and cozy all winter.
    The epiphragm is usually transparent and sometimes glues the snail to a surface, like a shady wall, rock or tree branch. In hibernation, a snail’s heart slows from about 36 beats per minute to only three or four, and oxygen use is reduced to one-fiftieth of normal.
    Snails often group together over winter. If you find one, expect many more in that protected hiding place. They burrow under loose flaps of bark, behind stacked paving slabs, around planters and pots and in gaps and holes in walls.
    “I retire within myself and there I stop. The world is nothing to me,” said the snail in Hans Christian Andersen’s tale, The Snail and the Rosebush. And with this, the snail withdrew into his house and blocked up the entrance.

Bay Weekly reports on how restoration is working

If native oysters rebound in the Chesapeake, it will be a miracle. But not a mystery. A clear chain of cause and effect will have led the way.
    First came the will, then the way.
    Over 30 years — even a century, it could be argued — plenty was going on to restore Chesapeake oysters. For all that was tried, nothing worked — or worked on a big enough scale to fight off the forces working against the native oyster, Crassostrea virginica.
    Hopes were high, results scarce.
    Yet will was gathering.
    Five years ago, an Oyster Advisory Commission convened by Gov. Martin O’Malley got to the bottom of the problem: The few oysters left couldn’t support themselves and an oyster economy. Bad news.
    Yet that bad news may be turning into good news.
    Maryland decided to go all out for oysters, with money and resources. The state’s Oyster Restoration and Aquaculture Development Plan laid out a 10-point strategy.
    In Washington, at about the same time, President Barack Obama made Chesapeake restoration an executive priority. The feds laid down the standards and promised funding. States had to come up with the plans.
    That was 2009 and 2010.
    Now Maryland’s Oyster Restoration and Aquaculture Development Plan is firing on all cylinders. Federal agencies, Maryland Department of Natural Resources, big independent players like Chesapeake Bay Foundation, civic groups and lots of everyday people — from waterfront homeowners to school kids — are all traveling down the restoration road.
    For the past two years, the General Assembly has topped DNR’s $2 million annual appropriation with almost $8 million for oyster restoration in two tributaries, Harris Creek and the Little Choptank River. That’s the starting point. Ten tributaries restored by 2025 is the latest Chesapeake Bay Agreement goal.
    At least two federal agencies, NOAA and the Army Corps of Engineers, do their own big spending to restore oysters in the Bay. The Corps’ annual budget, for ­example, is roundly $2 million.
    That’s some of the investment on three of the points of the 10-point plan:
1. Focus on targeted restoration strategies to achieve ecological and economic goals
2. Expand the sanctuary program
5. Rehabilitate oyster bar habitat
    Four years in, there’s plenty to report in terms of work done — and some successes achieved.
    Will it work to restore native oysters?
    “It is working on a small scale right now,” says DNR’s Eric Weissberger. “Will we see take-off on a larger scale, reaching a tipping point where it takes off on its own? It’s way too early to tell.”
    Starting next year, a new Republican governor will set his own course. A look back at Robert Ehrlich’s four years, 2001 through 2004 — when planting alien Asian oysters in the Bay seemed the last, best solution — reminds us just how different that could be.
    Will we keep it up?
    First comes the will, then the way.
    Read on for the first Bay Weekly report on what we’re doing to restore oysters and how it’s working.
    Writer Bob Melamud starts from the bottom up with shell, reporting on oyster recycling and revisiting the Harris Creek Oyster Sanctuary.

Sandra Olivetti Martin
Editor and publisher; editor@bayweekly.com

The lonely star swims with the fishes

Thursday’s full moon is known as the Beaver Moon or the Frosty Moon. It rises around sunset and sets around sunrise. Friday and Saturday the moon is with Taurus, the bull’s red eye Aldebaran high to the left and the Pleiades star cluster higher still. Monday night look for the moon near the Gemini twins Castor and Pollux.
    Mercury is at the tail end of its best pre-dawn appearance of the year. The innermost planet rises in the east-southeast around 5:30 at week’s end and is 10 degrees above the horizon as daybreak approaches. Mercury outshines any nearby stars, but that doesn’t make it easier to spot, but binoculars will help you find it tight against the horizon. Don’t confuse it with Spica a bit higher and to the right or with golden Arcturus much higher and to the left.
    You shouldn’t have any trouble spotting Jupiter before dawn. The gaseous giant rises before midnight and is almost directly overhead before sunrise. The bright star to its lower left is Regulus, the heart of Leo the lion. With Venus hidden behind the sun, only the moon outshines Jupiter in our night skies. You can compare the two between sunset Wednesday and sunrise Thursday the 13th, when the waning gibbous moon is within 10 degrees of Jupiter.
    The only other planet visible is Mars low in the southwest as evening twilight gives way to darkness.
    Early November marks the peak of two meteor showers, the South Taurids November 5-6 and the North Taurids November 11-12. Neither is a prolific shower, and both suffer the moon’s bright glare. But they both have staying power, producing a meteor here, a meteor there for days. Better yet, every now and then these slow movers burst aflame, crossing the sky as fireballs.
    Glance to the south after sunset this time of year and you’re not likely to see much except one bright, blue-white star known as the Lonely One. Fomalhaut appears all the brighter due to the company it keeps. Part of Pisces Austrinus, the Southern Fish, Fomalhaut is the only first-magnitude star amid autumn’s dim, ethereal, water constellations. Only after your eyes have had a chance to adapt to the darkness will you see the creatures within this celestial aquarium: Pisces the fish, Cetus the whale, Aquarius the water carrier, Capricornus the sea goat and Delphinus the dolphin.