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Ferris Wheel in the Sky
Describing a Nocturnal Anomaly: NW Utah, 9/23-29/2022
© 2022 James LaFond
From a Friday night through the middle of the next week, five of us folks saw a distant light as we saw looking northeast from Summit County, Utah, into the Wyoming night.
The light was first seen cresting the horizon in the direction of Evenston, Wyoming, at 9:10 to 9:20 PM, seeming to crest the plane at 9:10, though most nights it was not seen until Bob went out to shut in his chickens at 9:20.
Astronomical references showed that no planets should be in that quart of the sky. Jupiter was shining bright to our right, to the northeast.
The light would rise a finger width every 5 to 8 minutes.
As the light rose it drifted eastward, over time charting a diagonal line from north to northeast roughly according to the path of I-80, long which the airline traffic flew frequently. By 10:10 the light would be lost behind the cotton woods.
The light itself, not only moved vertically and horizontally, but seemed to be a circular arrangement of sparkling lights, which we agreed seemed almost like a red, blue and white ferris wheel.
This fascinated the others more than this hoodrat, disturbing the two younger women.
One of these women had accidentally videoed a black streak, shaped like an elipse over her son’s shoulder a week earlier, facing the same direction, during the day, over the shoulder of a mountain where she had been videoing her son’s mountain bike ride.
On this last night of viewing, before funeral preparations and other family business called, we were watching the same quarter of the sky as the sun went down at about 8:10, when we noticed that the same light, was already high in the sky, becoming visible due to the falling night, straight up from where it would regularly appear at 9:10. This light was ten fingers high and sunk a finger every two to three minutes until it disappeared behind the north hills by 8:30, at the same spot that it would rise from again at 9:10.
Events in our lives and the lack of explanations diverted our observations, along with the encroaching cold of late September evening beneath Hoyt’s Mountain at the Mouth of Smith-Moorehouse Canyon.
Who knows?
I do not.
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