Because they're pretty amazing. Ever since we had that assembly (that I imagine every single public school elementary student experiences in third or fourth grade) where the science people brought the dome shaped balloon big enough for us to crawl into and lie down in so they could project the constellations on the roof of our miniature planetarium, I've nurtured a passing, non-academic interest in the stars. While this not-quite-obsession hasn't yielded any scholarly or serious pursuits, it has made me one of those people who gushes when the sky is particularly clear at night, and who thrills at identifying the Big Dipper (one of only three I can recognize with any reliability) or at spying a shooting star.
It's one of my favorite things about camping, and now about my new home. It's also one of my favorite things about mythology - I love knowing that the characters in the stories I devour are immortalized in the heavens, somewhere, even if I can't locate them there myself. There's something wonderful about it, and I can't quite put my finger on why, because I'm not nearly as taken with reading tea leaves or following old commandments, but I love how connected I feel, when I look up at the sky to all the people who've done it before, not just now, but thousands of years ago, all over the world.
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