A waning, red moon; a mirroir de l’eau; a dying satellite. One of the last passes I may capture from a NOAA satellite echoes the very first on a beach in Cornwall in 2019. There, standing in the intertidal zone, I read an early version of the poem ‘satellite séance’ while receiving a live satellite image. The 'mirroir' in which I am standing today is a point of séance for many other bodies and reflections, especially given the 37 degree heat. NOAA-15, by far the oldest of the three remaining analogue satellites (having transmitted for 27 years, 2 months and 29 days) is the last to send a 137 MHz radio signal to the ground.

Most of all, I am amazed at the way this project has gathered people inside and around it. Since open-weather launched in 2020, hundreds of people have built DIY radio antennas, tracked NOAA satellites, and received images, each time adding to the sense that seeing the earth and its weather through distant orbiting machines does matter, and in ways we, as practitioners, cannot foreclose or forefeit. In practising together, we opened and expanded what 'remote sensing' means.

I am clumsy in my sandals as I stretch my antenna to the sky, my centre of gravity warped by the small human in my belly who is growing every day. I wonder if she can hear the ‘tick tock’ of NOAA-15 amidst the laughter of small children skipping on the ‘mirroir’, the rush of evening taxis, and the boats on the Garonne. My partner smiles as a toddler in a bright pink swimsuit stops her skipping right in front of me, plants her feet and stares. I hope, in some small way, the passing moment we share inspires a curiosity, a story.