% (Howell Creek Radio address for Monday, December 3rd, 2012 -- ) # Good Fortune I could say it was dark out as I closed the door behind me, as indeed it did seem dark from inside the glow of the cabin, looking out the small, double-hung windows; but this would not be true. The sun had, set, and night had long since fallen, but the full moon, and a bright star that hovered close by it, were diffusing a bright, pale light down through a field of scattered clouds. I made my way up the long winding drive from the cabin to the road, and immediately upon reaching the road, struck off away from it, along a narrow trail through the woods. As I went, I spoke, under my breath. > I have been one acquainted with the night. > I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain. > I have outwalked the furthest city light. > I have looked down the saddest city lane. > I have passed by the watchman on his beat > And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. > I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet > When far away an interrupted cry > Came over houses from another street, > But not to call me back or say good-bye; > And further still at an unearthly height, > O luminary clock against the sky > Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. > I have been one acquainted with the night. There was a quality of motion in the air: although, if you stopped, you could feel no current of it on your face, yet it was filled with moving snowflakes, that drifted and mingled with a definite bias in the same direction I was going, as though we were thousands of brothers and sisters all out for a walk together. The thin coat of snow which lay over everything, and which clung lightly to the sides of the trees, made the forest glow so that the earth could almost be seen to signal the moon's own light back to her. The path led over a hill in the middle of the wood; which, though it was itself thick with pine and birch trees, yet had a sort of bare patch at the very top, which afforded a view down through the lower hills and trees to the lake below. As I approached, I saw, standing still at the top of this hill, a lone figure, which caused me to pause for awhile. He had a large, heavy cloak pulled about him, out of which rose a very large, bearded head covered in a chain mail hood. The beard was so great that I could see it plainly in the moonlight even though the man was facing directly away from me, leaning on his spear. It seemed plain that he was a soldier, taking his turn at the night watch; I, of course, looked about for signs of the camp, for soldiers, like bees, are seldom found alone. Imagine my surprise when I looked behind me and saw, in scattered places, the figures of several more tall men, leaning against the backs of the trees I had just passed, all in cloaks of a purple so deep it was almost black, and mail-hooded heads which sparkled dimly in the moonlight. They made no motion towards me; I detected no sign of hostility. I began to wonder, once I allowed myself another moment to reflect, why they should all be watching at night instead of only one? This, and the fact that they lit no fire, seemed to suggest an impending advance and a need for secrecy; and yet they did not cover the shimmering mail on their heads with the hoods on their cloaks. I soon gathered myself and drew up alongside the figure at the top of the hill. The quiet motion in the air, of which I spoke before, seemed to extend to heaven as well as the earth. The lake in the distance below us, which would ordinarily have been smooth as glass on such a windless night, undulated with waves just small enough that they never crested or broke; and above us, through the isolated clouds gliding slowly over the wood, could be seen the curtain of the _aurora borealis_, the northern lights. I looked up at the great man's face, which was watching these movements all around us with the untiring interest and passive patience of a monument. He spoke, but it might have been to himself, just as I had spoken aloud to myself earlier. > Where rippled radiance rolls about us > Moved with music -- measureless the waves' > Joy and jubilee. It is JOVE's orbit, > Filled and festal, faster turning > With arc armpler. From the Isles of Tin > Tyrian traders, in trouble steering > Came with cargoes; the Cornish treasure > That his ray ripens. Of wrath ended > And woes mended, of winter passed > And guilt forgiven, and good fortune > Jove is master; and of jocund revel, > Laughter of ladies. The lion-hearted, > The myriad-minded, men like the gods, > Helps and heroes, helms of nations > Just and gentle, are Jove's children, > Work his wonders. On his wide forehead > Calm and kingly, no care darkens > Nor wrath wrinkles: but righteous power > And leisure and largess their loose splendours > Have wrapped around him -- a rich mantle > Of ease and empire. * * * > As I in hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow, > Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow; > And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near, > A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear; > Who, scorched with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed > As though his floods should quench his flames which with his tears were fed. > Alas, quoth he, but newly born in fiery heats I fry, > Yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but I ! > My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns, > Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns ; > The fuel justice layeth on, and mercy blows the coals, > The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defiled souls, > For which, as now on fire I am to work them to their good, > So will I melt into a bath to wash them in my blood. > With this he vanished out of sight and swiftly shrunk away, > And straight I called unto mind that it was Christmas day. * * * Thanks for listening to Howell Creek Radio; I'm Joel Dueck. The poetry used in this radio address was a little hand-selected compilation of _Acquainted With the Night_ by Robert Frost; an excerpt from a relatively little-known poem called _The Planets_ by C.S. Lewis (who was recently [given a posthumous spot in Westminster Abbey's famous Poets' Corner][wma]); and _The Burning Babe_ by Robert Southwell, which he wrote in prison during the late 1500s. I found out after writing this episode that on the night I finished it, Jupiter was crossing paths with the moon which was very full -- a lovely coincidence. People took some amazing photos from that night, and you can see them in the notes for this episode at . In the past month I've heard from two people who, in a tremendous display of persistence fueled by enthusiasm, have gone back and downloaded and listened to every episode of Howell Creek Radio. Once I got over my surprise and, I admit, delight that people exist who might want to do such a thing, I realized how tedious it must have been to download them all, and I thought I ought to do something to make that easier. So I've put together a package on our website where you can download the entire back-catalog of Howell Creek Radio episodes. There's 740MB of it, almost nine hours of audio, so I've broken the archive into two parts. There's an additional value-add here; I've gone back through all the MP3s of our episodes, and cleaned them up a bit, especially the oldest ones, from before I had a more consistent process. I've made sure they all include album art, added track numbers, and made the titles and author names all consistent, so when you drop them into your iTunes library, they'll all be in order and they'll look great. You can also order a DVD of the whole MP3 catalog if you're not on a terribly fast connection. There's a completely optional donation for the download; a DVD is $10 including shipping. All individual episodes will always be completely free online. Check out our website, , you can also find us on Facebook and Twitter. Synopsis: ---------- Radio address for December 1st, 2012. I went for a walk in the woods by the cabin on a moonlit night. The poetry used in this radio address was a hand-selected little compilation of _Acquainted With the Night_ by Robert Frost; an excerpt from a relatively little-known poem called _The Planets_ by C.S. Lewis (who was recently [given a posthumous spot in Westminster Abbey's famous Poets' Corner][wma]); and _The Burning Babe_ by Robert Southwell, which he wrote in prison during the late 1500s. Music is _Dreams are Dangerous_ and _Reunion_ from [_Coraline_][cor], _Red Route 1_ from [_Hunt for the Red October_][hro], and [_You Are the Pan_][ytp] from _Hook_. I found out after writing this episode that on the night I finished it, Jupiter was crossing paths with the moon which was very full -- a lovely coincidence. [People took some amazing photos from that night][eso] -- two of my favourites are shown here. [eso]: http://earthsky.org/space/photos-from-friends-jupiter-and-moon-awesome-in-late-november-2012 "Photos from friends: Jupiter and moon awesome in late November 2012 - EarthSky blog" November 26, 2012 photo of Jupiter near the moon over Lake Superior in northern Wisconsin by Migizi Gichigumi November 26, 2012 photo of Jupiter near the moon over Lake Superior in northern Wisconsin by Migizi Gichigumi Photo of the moon and Jupiter together on November 28 by Cattleya Flores Viray in San Diego Photo of the moon and Jupiter together on November 28, by Cattleya Flores Viray in San Diego ## Complete Library Now Available As mentioned in the podcast, you can now download (or order) [the entire back-catalog of Howell Creek Radio episodes][ebc] -- nine hours of audio. [ebc]: http://howellcreekradio.com/notes/download [cor]: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001QSEA2E/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B001QSEA2E&linkCode=as2&tag=joelsimprpers-20 "Coraline soundtrack on Amazon" [hro]: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000002O7C/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B000002O7C&linkCode=as2&tag=joelsimprpers-20 "Hunt for the Red October soundtrack - Audio CD (MP3 not available) - on Amazon" [ytp]: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00138CYIE/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00138CYIE&linkCode=as2&tag=joelsimprpers-20 "Hook soundtrack on Amazon" [wma]: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/9693294/C-S-Lewis-deserves-his-place-in-Poets-Corner.html