Shifting gears a bit, I guess, I usually think of pleasant times when I stare at the stars. My most frequent recollection in those situations is of my family's move from Powell, Wyoming to Cody, Wyoming, when I was 14. My brother and I were laying in the back of the pickup with a pile of stuff we were moving to the new house. The dog was there, too. Just the two boys, the dog, and some junk. But I remember the stars being very dense in the sky that night. I remember noticing that even in the few gaps where there appeared to be no stars, there were actually stars of lesser magnitude if you looked hard enough. It was a really pleasant ride. At the end of the ride, the dog got excited and stepped on a framed print Mom had purchased. He broke the glass, but he wasn't hurt, and the rest of us hated that picture, anyway, so it was good all around.
Good times, good times.