Ruary is the name of the tumultuous and stormy object of my desire, and he is dancing just beyond my reach. The more I long for him, the more he eludes me. We all know the sort, right? His absence physically pains me, but rarely have I wanted something more. Until, finally, there he is. My icy heart melts as my eyes fill with light, and my soul sings to the tune of his swooning presence. It’s love.
No, Ruary is not my imaginary boyfriend. Neither am I a pedlar of florid, Frozen-inspired gay erotica. (Although I am deep in Norway, the otherworldly European country that inspired the Disney hit.) Ruary, rather, is my nickname for the aurora borealis, aka nature’s greatest light show, commonly depicted in art as a…