There are twelve regular meteor showers reliably happening above our heads each year, and yet few of us ever make the effort to watch. I know, I know: it’s hard. They happen late at night, and when it’s dark and cold, and we live surrounded by light pollution and can barely see the sky at all. And there are clouds and rainstorms, and there’s work in the morning. But still: meteors. Shooting stars. Those streaks of light we find so magical that we invest them with our wishes. Surely that’s a sight worthy of effort?
