Dog days

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist 

Such a beautiful morning it was. The cool breeze blowing in from the open window invited me to snuggle deeper into my comforter. I rolled over, intent on lingering. Such weather is a rarity this time of year. Somehow, last week's heat and humidity had blown away with last night's wind.

My dear dog had no desire to linger. She knew that this was a perfect morning to get outside and enjoy the day. She jumped up onto the bed and pounced on my head. I lie still. She grabbed the covers and began to tug and pull. I supposed it was time to get up after all.

The floor felt chilly to my bare feet. Dancing dog by my side, I made my way downstairs. Coffee would have to wait. With her tail wagging furiously, and a flannel shirt over my shoulders, we were off into the morning.

The turkey gobbled his greeting as we passed by his pen. The goats came up to their fence for forehead scratches. I opened the pigeon gazebo door and a stream of white birds took flight, wings clapping as they climbed into the blue sky and began to circle the valley.

The dog and I walked back across the field toward the cabin and I began to wonder about this late July time of year. I was fairly sure that these days marked the beginning of the dog days of summer, but I was curious how these days got their name. Was it because dogs can typically be found stretched out under a shade tree on a hot summer day? Today was far from hot, though last week was not only hot, it was extremely humid. Our dear dog had spent many hours stretched out full length under the pine tree.

Dog and I sat down, side by side, on the bench under that tree. She leaned into me as I pulled out my phone to see what I could learn. There were things I did not know.

I had thought that the dog days of summer were those hot sultry days where I sat with my bare feet in the creek. This much was true, but I was quite mistaken about how they got their name. It is not about dogs stretched out in the shade, but rather about the Sirius star system that can be seen in the morning sky, starting on July 29. Sirius is the dog star. This predawn sighting is known as a heliacal rising.

The heliacal rising of a star occurs annually when it becomes visible above the eastern horizon in those brief moments just before sunrise. This first morning sighting marks the time of year when the star will once again be visible at the night, after having set with the Sun at the western horizon the previous evening. That setting is its heliacal setting. After the heliacal rising, as the days pass, the star rises a bit earlier each morning, climbing higher into the night sky. Before the heliacal rising it was overhead in the sky during the day, and as such, was invisible, obscured by daylight. As the summer days pass, and the earth turns and continues on its orbit around the sun, the star is once again overhead during the night and can be seen, no longer obscured by daylight.

Greek astrologists recognized that Sirius' July appearance in the morning sky coincided with summer heat, drought, and the onset of sudden, destructive thunderstorms. Greek poets described that with Sirius' heliacal rising, people would be overcome with lethargy in the summer heat, and that bad luck would fall all around. The poets described that dogs howled at the star, became mad, and ran wild in the streets. Such dogs were nothing like the lazy dog I knew who lay unmoving under our shade trees.

So, I now know that the dog days of summer, the hottest, most uncomfortable days in our Northern Hemisphere, are named after the star system Sirius, the Dog Star, the brightest star in our summertime night sky. Sirius actually consists of two stars, one more faint than the other, and appears at this time of year as the bright morning star. It is a mere 8.6 light years away, one of earth's closest neighbors. To find Sirius in the summer sky, step outside and locate the constellation Orion, and then follow Orion's belt, down to the left, until you see the intensely bright, blue and white, twinkling light of Sirius.

No doubt tomorrow will once again be hot and humid in the creek valley and Sirius will once again be overhead in the predawn dark, no longer hidden by the daylight, and by afternoon you'll be sure to find me, sitting with my bare feet in the creek, enjoying these dog days of summer.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.