It's taken a good deal of self-reminding that not only have we moved to Denmark from the U.S. but we've also moved from a very big city (pop. 3 million) to a pretty small town (pop. 30,000). For so long, I would usually attribute all differences to the transition of nations -- language, social customs/behaviors, economics, attitudes, government -- but over time, I've come to see that a lot of these dissimilarities are actually big city/small town differences. It's not always a Danish/ American thing, but the fact that we now have begun living as semi-countryfolk.
When I take Bella out for our nighttime constitutional, I am always struck by the the gaping vastness of the sky. The darkness is so huge, stretched over me like a giant black bowl dotted with flour stars. I remember, when I thought to look, the Seattle sky as a charcoal haze, faded by the light pollution and traces of smog. Here, it's just pure black. The stars are so bright and shiny -- they act like real stars are supposed to, not just sluggish bulbs. Sometimes I stand in our courtyard and look up for a few minutes before we come inside. I've never been all that interested in the sky before, but now I'm very taken with its clarity. It just seems so incredibly BIG, and I think of Big Sky, Montana, very far away, but tuned into the same channel. Bella must like it, too, as I sometimes see her sitting on the ground next to me, eyes up, sniffing the stars contentedly. I could take a picture of the night sky for you, but it wouldn't fit on your monitor.