7. Orion

Settle beside me and look south when winter comes — you can’t miss Orion. He strides across the sky with a confidence most constellations can only dream of. Those three bright stars in a neat row form his belt, and once you’ve seen that, the rest of him falls into place: his shoulders, his legs, and the faint but beautiful sword hanging beneath the belt, where the great Orion Nebula glows to anyone with a good clear night.

People often think of Orion as a hunter, but he’s really a map of bright, young stars lighting up the cold months. Betelgeuse, the orange giant on his left shoulder, pulses gently as it moves through its old age; Rigel, down by his right foot, burns blue-white and sharp. They balance each other like lanterns hung at opposite ends of a long, dark valley.

For anyone out late — farmers checking livestock, dog-walkers with torches, shift workers heading home — Orion is the constellation that feels like company. He rises early in winter, climbing through the bare branches, then leans westward as midnight passes. Even when the ground is frozen, he brings a kind of warmth: a sky full of familiar markers that tell you where you are and how the season is turning.

I watch him move through the months, steady and bright while the creatures carved into my back sleep or slow their rhythms below. Owls pass beneath him. Badgers work quietly in his shadow. Even when the hedgerows are stripped and the moths have retreated to their winter hiding places, Orion keeps watch — a reminder that the night has its own heroes, its own stories, and its own light to offer.