Six years ago, I experienced my first solar eclipse. How did I manage to live my entire life without previously watching one? I was always in the wrong place at the right time, or the weather was non-cooperative. When I was a kid, an eclipse was predicted where I lived. Lacking proper eye protection, I followed instructions to make a cardboard pinhole camera, despite doubts it would really work. I didn’t get a chance to find out. It rained all day.
In 2017, a total eclipse was to pass through South Carolina, a mere 300 miles from home. I was determined to catch this one. Not only was I successful, I was hooked. You can read about it here. After this, I began tracking eclipses around the world, envying people who are able to fly to exotic places to view them. The next total eclipse will be in Arkansas on April 8, 2024. I plan to be there.
In the meantime, I caught several lunar eclipses from the comfort of my front yard. I wrote about one last year. You can read that post here.
Recently, I learned about an annular eclipse going through Texas on 10/14/23. Not a total eclipse, these are called “ring of fire” because the moon doesn’t totally occlude the sun. I wanted to go, but it had been a busy spring and summer. Besides, I was without a dependable traveling vehicle. I’d had to retire my loyal blue Roadtrek after it had racked up a half-million miles and increasingly frequent repairs. Not all was lost, however. The partial eclipse was to be visible for hundreds of miles on each side of its path. I dug out my eclipse glasses and stayed home.
So long, old friend.
I swear, the weather must check the eclipse schedule before making up its mind about what to throw at us. The forecast was for clear weather. It was foggy overnight. The fog lifted, but clouds persisted as time approached the 11:50 a.m. start of the eclipse. Finally, the sun came out, but puffy clouds kept scudding across the sky. Between scuds, I caught glimpses of the moon edging into the left side of the sun. Through eclipse glasses, the sun looked like a yellow cookie that a celestial Cookie Monster had bitten into. CM kept nibbling until the sun looked like a fat C. I could see the dark disk of the moon. Not quite as spectacular as a total eclipse, it was still an awesome sight.
Instead of the moon continuing across the sun, the bite mark slid downward. I’ve seen this during partial lunar eclipses. Eventually, the fat C was resting on its tips. Maximum eclipse was at 1:22 p.m. The bite crept up the left side of the cookie, to make a reverse C. Then Cookie Monster began to slowly regurgitate, taking increasingly smaller bites out of the cookie, before moving on.
About the cardboard pinhole device, a few Facebook friends said they used them and got a good image of the eclipse. One even posted a photo he’d taken of it.
Readers may notice I haven’t been posting as often as I once did. I stay busy with other endeavors, including novels and short stories. Two of my stories have received Honorable Mentions in Writers of the Future. “Family Plot” has been published in the 2023 Eckerd Review. I will post the story on this website when I get a chance. “The Legend of Mellington Swamp” is a finalist for the Royal Palm Literary Award. Keep your fingers crossed for me. Season of the Dove is a finalist for a BookFest Award. You can read Notebooks Hidden in an Abandoned House on Kindle Vella. I hope to have it in book form by January. And I’m working on a prequel of Trials by Fire.
Whew! No wonder I get tired. Meanwhile, I need to shop for a new camper van, then Arkansas April 2024 or bust!
marieqrogers 