Last night, after about 11, there was the most magnificent view of Orion over head, with a gorgeous crescent moon setting in the west. The three sisters on the hunter's belt were very clear, and I could make out the dagger as well. I have considered Orion a sort of personal friend for the last 14 years or so.

When I was 24, I had an couple of operations on my eyes. Suddenly I went from seeing 20:200 to 2:60, and since then it has improved to 20:40.

It is tempting to say that this was a life-changing event; that the world was different. But it wasn't. It was a good thing, and I am grateful for it; but the world looked much the same as it did before. There were no new colours.

Life changed, and is changing, is evolving; but the really big forces are not the earthquakes or tsunamis but the tectonic plate movements, slow and unnoticed. Growing up with poor eyesight did have a huge influence in my life, and still does; but suddenly having better eyesight did not change my world that much. The really big changes are the things creeping up on me: slowly going gray, my children aging, changes in my views.

To be sure, the operations I had were a bit of an earthquake. Overnight, many little things changed.... I suddenly realized how dirty the world was: I could see the dirt -- crumbs on my counter -- which was a bit disturbing. Before the operation I could read any book, any size type down to about 4 pt, by holding the page close (very close!) to my face. After, I could not read without glasses.

Of course there were marvelous revelations as well; snow storms were a lot more interesting, and 12 years later, I'm still dumbfounded by trees in winter - the unbelievable complexity of all those branches that were just a blur before.

Clouds were a disappointment though. I've always loved clouds, and still do ... but I always presumed, before the operation, that there was more to them somehow; that they would be that much more wonderful if I could only see them better. But they weren't any different!

Then there were the stars. Before - I could see maybe 5 stars in the whole sky on a good clear night, and perhaps 10 on an exceptionally clear bright night. After - well, there really are no words for it.

I recall the first few months after the last operation, visiting my parents in the country late in the fall, with their bight country night skies. I remember vividly asking what that incredibly bright line of three stars was, low in the evening sky. So it was that I got to know the constellation Orion. To this day, Orion, the hunter, is easily my favourite constellation. I look forward to it every winter.

It reminds me of crumbs on my counter, individual snow flakes in a squall, tree branches in the distance and hydo wires stretching to the horizon on the tall transmission lines; things largely unseen before I was 24.

Now February has been ground down, and March will follow shortly. It's been a busy, cloudy, overcast winter by and large. I have not seen the great archer as often as I would have liked. Soon the time will come when the hours I keep and the hours that the three mischievous sisters keep will not be commensurate, and I shall miss Orion's belt in the night sky.

But today I look forward to the few clear winter nights left this year, when I'm up a little late, and the dog and I step out onto the deck in the cold air before bed. I'll look up and search the sky overhead for three bright stars, and greet my winter friend.