The Northern Lights Came to Illinois

Susan Harbourt
6 days ago
4 min read

Last night at 9 pm, my son texted: Northern lights. Now. Let's go.

I didn't hesitate. We grabbed coats and cameras and walked out past the edge of our trees, where the cornfields go dark and the sky opens up.

It was freezing. My fingers went numb fast. But there we were, my two boys and I, standing in the middle of nowhere, staring up.

What We Saw (And Didn't See)

Here's the thing about the Northern Lights, at least most of the aurora moments I've experienced in the Midwest: you can barely see them with your naked eye. There was this faint glow, some movement, soft hints of color. I knew something was happening up there, but I couldn't quite make it out.

Then my son adjusted his camera settings and showed me the screen.

Pink. Green. Purple. The whole sky was dancing.

The camera saw what my eyes couldn't. It captured light that my brain wasn't processing. Same sky, completely different view.

The Science Part (Because It's Actually Cool)

The colors happen when charged particles from the sun hit our atmosphere at different altitudes:

Green comes from excited atomic oxygen at lower altitudes, up to 150 miles. Green light is emitted instead of red because of a higher oxygen concentration at these levels.
Red and pink come from excited atomic oxygen at high altitudes, above 150 miles. These colors are only visible under intense solar activity due to low oxygen concentration at those heights.
Purple and blue come from ionized molecular nitrogen, appearing above 60 miles and up to 60 miles respectively. The reaction involves molecular nitrogen because atomic oxygen is uncommon at low altitudes.

We were seeing this because of a massive solar storm. The kind that usually only reaches places like Alaska or Canada. But last night? Central Illinois got lucky.

The display was supposed to be even better up at my lighthouse in Michigan. I checked the aurora forecast, perfect solar conditions. But when I looked at the lighthouse webcam, there was nothing but heavy cloud cover. The lights were still happening above those clouds, still beautiful, still real. We just couldn't see them.

Sometimes the timing's wrong. Sometimes clouds get in the way. That's just how it goes.

Making Core Memory Moments

My son called it "core memory moments" as we headed out. He wanted this to be one of those moments we'd remember.

He was right, but not for the reasons I expected.

Yeah, the lights were incredible. But what I'll actually remember is standing there with both my kids, all of us figuring out camera settings together. Them teaching me, me teaching them to just be still and look up. Nobody mindlessly scrolling reels on their phone. Nobody rushing. Just us and the sky and the cold.

These moments are getting rare. One son's already out of the house most of the time. The other one's not far behind. The days of spontaneous nighttime adventures are numbered.

I almost said no. It was late. It was cold. I was tired.

But I went. And I'm so glad I did.

Seeing Things Differently

The camera thing keeps coming back to me.

My eyes saw one version of the sky. The camera saw another. Both were true. Both were the same moment. Just different.

I think about this a lot lately. How many ways there are to see the same thing. How much I miss when I'm only looking one way.

Midlife feels like that sometimes. I'm learning to adjust my lens. To see possibilities I couldn't register before. To trust that beautiful things are happening even when I can't quite make them out yet.

The Magic Doesn't Wait

Northern Lights don't care about your schedule. They show up when they show up, and then they're gone.

That's true for a lot of things right now. My kids won't be kids much longer. This house won't be full of teenagers and noise and chaos forever. This specific version of my life is temporary.

The next phase is coming whether I'm ready or not.

And honestly? I'm starting to think it will be pretty amazing, especially if I can stay open to the magic, say yes when opportunity texts at 9 pm, and remember that sometimes you have to stand in the cold to see something beautiful and make core memories.

The Northern Lights that appeared over Central Illinois reminded me that the best moments don't wait for perfect timing, and that there are always more ways to see than the one right in front of you.

Join me for the journey.

I'm exploring this next chapter of life, the one where the kids leave, the house gets quieter, and you figure out who you are when you're not just "mom" anymore. I'm restoring a lighthouse, collecting rocks, making jewelry, and saying yes to unexpected adventures.

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