It Rains Diamonds on Jupiter

Whenever I’m stuck in my writing, or stuck in my life in general, I’ll look up facts about different things. Facts about supernovas. Facts about ancient Egypt. Facts about the relativity of time. I can spend hours reading about the little-known magical details of our world. It thrills me to know so many truths about our universe contain an overwhelm of beauty and wonder.

Today, for example, while writing a love poem, I did some research on animals and learned that geese are very protective of their partners. If a goose’s sweetheart is injured or becomes ill, he or she will not leave their mate’s side even if it’s freezing and the rest of the flock is headed south. Can you see it? A goose couple snuggling in a goose-made igloo? The healthy one bringing the injured one a hot bowl of worm soup? Who knew geese were the posterbirds for loyalty.

Learning that fact got me thinking about something I read a number of years ago––birds have different accents depending on where they live. For example, sparrows in Brooklyn have noticeably different voices than sparrows in Winnipeg. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to date the person who listened so well they figured this out? Bird watchers (or bird listeners) are now, in my mind, the epitome of hotness. Binoculars and multi-pocketed khaki vests––pheromone stimulants.

Now that I’ve shared that fact, another of my favorites comes to mind: Our ears never stop growing. What I’ve always adored about this is it’s like a biological guide for living. Our ears get bigger and bigger everyday of our lives as if asking us to listen more closely with every passing minute. I have little wrinkles on my ears and it makes me so happy to imagine they are ear stretch marks, telling everyone who sees them, Look, with each year of my life I’ve grown into a better listener! Some of my favorite sounds: the exhale after a first kiss, sidewalk tap-dancing in New Orleans, baby goats squealing for alfalfa snacks, my three dogs falling asleep after forty solid minutes of cursing out squirrels.

The final fact I’ll share with you today is a random one, but it’s too lovely to leave out: It rains diamonds on Saturn and Jupiter. Do the beings of Jupiter wait for rainstorms to propose to each other? Is bad weather on Saturn called “love weather”? Do the weather-beings on the weather channel ever say, “Tomorrow will be shiny, sparkling, a dream day for the Kardashians”? I’m not a big fan of earth-diamonds; Propose to me by tying your first gray hair around my finger, or weld me a ring whose stone is the first tooth the tooth fairy stole from beneath your pillow. But I’d still love to see a diamond downpour. What kind of umbrella would I need to survive the magic of Jupiter? If I ever get to witness it, friends, I sure hope you’re there with me.

Love, Andrea 🖤

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