The Northern Lights

I can still remember that first, breathless sighting. We stood in rosy-cheeked wonder as a pulsing river of green surged through the sky, celestial catherine wheels bursting forth and illuminating our enraptured faces. Torrents of green poured from the heavens. Warm lingonberry juice flowed like water. Elves, and then a herd of wild unicorns, stepped from the snowy forest, and we all linked arms and Riverdanced toward a self-assembling palace of ice, singing Let It Go as we went.

Here’s what actually happened:
“Is that… it?”
“God, no. Are you kidding? It’s just getting started.”
Two very long, very cold, very dark hours later.
“Is that it?”
“Errr.”

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