Eclipse Day dawned clear and sunny.
Cedrus provided shuttle service for our good friend J.P. from the parking area to the party zone.
J.P. and Monica, plus Karen and Bob from Washington, were the only out-of-town friends who braved the expected heavy traffic (which did not materialize until after the eclipse). Neighbors Irv, Joe and Claudia joined us as well. Our relatives had flown in from Connecticut, Illinois, Texas, California, and Colorado, all staying at the Wildwood Hotel in Willamina. Our surrogate grandkids, Kinnera and David, plus David's spouse Michael (now our grandkid-in-law) had driven down from Seattle. 27 of us, in all, viewed the eclipse from our farm.
We had all manner of colanders, sieves, pinhole projectors, and welding plates to view the eclipse through. Plus everyone had eclipse glasses. It was interesting to see the partial sun through these devices as the moon gradually covered it.
 |
| Cedrus, Steve, Munazza and Kestrel |
I took many photos of the reflections, more than I did of people.
As darkness descended, I watched the goats to see what they would do. What the adult goats did was stay lying in the field while the kids continued to leap about on their playground stumps.
But when it grew deep twilight at the onset of totality, Mister McCoy, the livestock guardian dog who is locked in his yard during days and loose at night, began barking at the goats. They are supposed to head to the safety of the barn in the evening and he is supposed to be let out then. Finally, during totality, the goats stood and began slowly moving toward the barn with McCoy's constant encouragement. But it grew light again quickly, so they turned around and went back and lay down. The kids never stopped jumping around on their stumps.
The rest of us, however, were in awe of the sun's corona, the diamond ring, the odd, shimmering light on the white horse trailer and light sheet beside it, and the sudden drop in temperature. Every few minutes during the eclipse, Ian took photos of the thermometer we set out. It started at 72 and dropped very gradually until totality, when it went down sharply to 48 degrees. It was very chilly and most everyone put on their coats and sweaters.
Here is Johnny's photo of totality... I don't know why his camera turned the black moon into white light.
He then took a photo of the people in their wraps, in the weird orangish light that everything was bathed in.
I loved the reverse images reflected between leaves on the ground
and on a sheet we had put there. Johnny's camera was periodically
refusing to open all the way, creating a partial image...
Here is my photo of totality...
There is no way, of course, to photograph the ever changing corona or to capture the eerie light. I now understand why people become umbraphiles, chasing after every total eclipse around the world. It is an other-worldly experience, impossible to describe.
As the moon moved across the sun, Ian and I walked around the farm, finding those wonderful images on the ground through the pinhole projectors that are the spaces between leaves on trees.
We each lay down to see if we could become covered in little crescents. I found some on Ian, but I just looked like a corpse, as Ian frankly noted.
 |
| Ian eclipsed |
Johnny, the people person of our family, stayed with the guests and managed a photo of our surrogate grandkids, David and Kinnera with our grandkid-in-law Michael, even though his camera was not fully cooperating... being partly eclipsed, I guess. This photo shows the eerie orange light after totality...
 |
| Michael and David were the newest married couple at our anniversary celebration, having just been married last December. May they have long, happy lives together! |
When the moon was finally completely gone from in front of the sun, we took off our eclipse glasses and held our anniversary party. I gave a brief description of how we came to be married (Johnny's Mormon
boss at the time said we could not continue living together without the
benefit of marriage); Johnny spoke about how all you need to know to
have a successful marriage was told to him by a young nephew: "womens is pickles", which I take it is another way to say men and women are just different and you need to accept that. Steve spoke that
we were successful because we had always done things our own way,
unconventional but true to ourselves. At least, I think that's what he meant.
The best part of the celebration came next...
Kestrel and Cedrus had practiced songs for us that I had requested... from Elvis and the Beatles. Kestrel played guitar and Cedrus keyboard. They sat in the surrey to perform... a perfect stage from my point of view... and they were wonderful.
Then they danced a dance they had put together from their hip hop/house/jazz dance classes. Wow! I cannot imagine a better anniversary present than that super performance by our two youngest grandchildren.
After the performance, we had a potluck with chili and potato salad that Ian had made, turkey and dressing from me, fruit salad that Johnny and the kids had concocted, and tons more. The relatives had all brought appetizers that were enjoyed while waiting for the eclipse to begin earlier in the day.
After the meal, there was more conversation and the inevitable "crockett" game (more like miniature golf than croquet). The only hard and fast rule is you must have fun. A rule instituted this year is the "close enough" rule. When you get tired of missing a gate, simply declare that you came "close enough" and move on.
Here Kestrel, Karen and Ian attempt to conquer an impossible obstacle on the course.
The afternoon was hot so most folks just sat around in the shade and chatted. The eclipse had been excitement enough.
Next up: Part Three... After the Eclipse
Posts
