When the Universe Says "Trust Me"

from $40.00

Details

  • This item is an open-ended series (print only)

  • High quality, Lustre* paper

  • All sizes are listed in inches

  • Printed without a border

* Lustre paper is a popular photographic printing paper with a semi-gloss, slightly textured finish that strikes a balance between glossy and matte papers. It offers the vibrant colors and sharp detail of glossy paper without as much glare, making it resistant to fingerprints and suitable for framing

Size:

Details

  • This item is an open-ended series (print only)

  • High quality, Lustre* paper

  • All sizes are listed in inches

  • Printed without a border

* Lustre paper is a popular photographic printing paper with a semi-gloss, slightly textured finish that strikes a balance between glossy and matte papers. It offers the vibrant colors and sharp detail of glossy paper without as much glare, making it resistant to fingerprints and suitable for framing

November 11, 2025 - The Red Mill, Clinton, NJ

I almost didn't go. After October 2024's once-in-a-lifetime display, I told myself nothing could compare. Forecasters were calling for a significant geomagnetic storm across the northeastern United States—possibly G4 conditions—with predictions of aurora visibility as far south as New Jersey. But we all know the drill: NJ skies are reliably clear... until they're not. Every weather app screamed "clouds," and I spent most of the day convinced this would be another cloudy miss.

But something made me get dressed anyway.

Originally headed south from Morris County, I watched the clouds break apart to the west on Route 287. That's when I made the call—my reliable spot, the Red Mill. The place that never lets me down.

The moment I arrived, I knew. Clear(ish) skies. That unmistakable hint of green kissing the horizon. Through the camera, it blazed even brighter. With each click, the substorm intensified—stronger, bolder—as if the sky was parting just for me, whispering "put aside your doubts and watch THIS."

My friend Brian arrived just as the first wave subsided and clouds rolled back in. We cursed at the sky (and those bridge lights) for a while. But then—as if on cue—the clouds parted once more and the aurora returned for an encore.

For a no-plan night built on last-minute instincts and stubborn hope, we walked away with something incredible. Sometimes you just have to trust the sky—and show up anyway.