Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Post-Eclipse Mutterings





Now, that the long-awaited solar eclipse has come and gone, it appears that perspectives on its impact vary widely.  

Whether or not we had glasses, whether we were in the 90-percent zone or the totality zone, whether we were just going about the usual day-to-day activity or if we'd been camped for days in a selected perch awaiting the event----we all can report our individual stories.

In our case at the Lovestead, Bill and I did our best to go about our daily business BUT I did try the cell phone selfie method of viewing and the cross-your-hands and look-for-shadows method---neither of which were too helpful.  

I also carried my camera and observed the animals as the show in the heavens above began.  

We didn't observe too much out of whack.  

Birds came to the feeder.  Horses stood in their respective outdoor shelters, letting their breakfasts digest.  Dogs chased squirrels, and squirrels squawked at dogs. 

I do think the squirrel talk did subside a bit as the brilliant sunshine of a few minutes before became slightly subdued and bare arms started feeling like another shirt might be needed. 

Besides the temperature drop, our most dramatic clue that something was amiss happened when we went inside the house to catch a few stories on TV.  The house was much darker than usual for a sunny morning in August. 

Bill said later that when he went to an office in town and the show hadn't quite ended, a lady gave him her viewer and he saw a bit of the conclusion.

We did feel a tinge of regret that we hadn't made plans to leave town and go join the hordes of spectators somewhere in a totality zone.  Afterward, however, as I stood on the ladder picking plums and Bill stood a few feet away, I commented:  Well, now the eclipse is over, and now those people have to fight the traffic jams to get home.

We both agreed that we probably would have a better day than most of the travelers, but still, it probably would have been great fun, especially the social aspect. 

The nice part is that we could still experience several aspects of the eclipse vicariously through friends who did see pretty much the full-meal deal.  Many of them who watched in "totality" experienced much more dramatic emotional reactions than we 90-percenters. 

This morning, I'd like to share two observations----one from my friend and former student Hon who viewed the spectacle with a whole host of brand-new friends in Weiser, ID; the other, from my high school and University of Idaho classmate Jerry Jeppson.  

Jerry owns a Quarter Horse Ranch on the Wind River Indian Reservation in Wyoming. He runs about 100 head of horses, many varying colors of roans and of the oldtime Hancock breeding. 

With no further adieu, here's Hon's rather poetic and brilliant take on what he saw: 


Before day turned to night, the dwindling light steadily desaturated and metallicized everything, as if through some weirdly tinted polarized sunglasses. Leaves were gray, skin was lusterless, it all looked so obviously wrong. Then we plunged into darkness, and the sky was suddenly a deep deep navy I have never in my life seen. A sunset effect went 360 degrees all the way around the horizon, and there were stars. A chilly field full of strangers was quiet except for grave repetitions of "Oh my God." The sun's corona was otherworldly and spread way out in three pointed flares, the inner ring flecked in pink and violet. It did not move, it did not shimmer, it just held forth until a tiny beam of brilliant white sun finally broke through: "Let there be light!" I still cannot believe it.

My friend Jerry Jeppson, also gifted with words, provides another poignant perspective from Wyoming:  
The eclipse was really something. No amount of superlatives can describe how amazing it was. I wanted to see how the horses would react so I parked on a hill above a band of mares and colts to watch their reaction. It got so dark I could only see a couple of them. They didn't pay any attention to it. The temperature dropped over ten degrees and it got dark, way darker than I thought was going to happen. I was doing a shuttle for some fishermen on the river so left the rez boundary just when it started. Counted 566 vehicles pulled off  the road to watch the eclipse in the 18 miles to the store. After it was over, there was bumper to bumper traffic heading east from Jackson and Dubois for almost three hours.







As the eclipse show continued and thrilled millions across the nation, we moved on with our errands of the day.  Later, my sisters and I took a drive up beyond Bonners Ferry.  

We stopped at the Bread Basket Bakery, now aka as "The Gathering Place," picked up half a dozen mini fruit pastries, with plans to sample them at the picnic table near the Copeland Bridge.

As usual, the Kootenai Valley and the area around the river were their stunning selves.  As usual, we took a few photos. 

While we were strolling around taking our pictures, a young couple pulled into the parking lot and walked to the river's edge.  While we were sampling our tasty but messy pastries, we heard a splash.  Then, we watched the young man run from one spot on the river to the boat launch, holding an armful of gear.

Turns out the young couple from Washington had just been married Saturday, and they were staying in the area for their honeymoon.  They had just gone on a rigorous mountain bike ride before coming to the bridge, and she felt the need to cool off. 

We're thinking it was wise that we photographers were not standing within picture range during the time between the splash and when they came walking back toward their car, both fully clothed. 

She did tell us the water was cold and that she felt refreshed.

Twas a nice interlude, eating that tasty pie and visiting with the nice young couple at a beautiful setting in North Idaho. 

Today, I'm guessing life will get back to normal for a lot of folks, but I'm sure they'll be taking their individual memories of yesterday's phenomenon along with them for the rest of their lives. 

Life on Earth.  Yup, it can be pretty fascinating at times, especially when the Heavens put on a show like yesterday's. 

Happy Tuesday.  


















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