Eclipse

Eclipse

August 21, 2017

Keely

Everyone has been writing about the total solar eclipse. Or sharing photos. Telling stories. A number of friends and relatives went to special locations to experience 100% totality, or just “totality,” as became the buzzword.

I guess I could have done that. I had recently read Annie Dillard's essay “Total Eclipse” and heard what others had said, so I knew that there was nothing in the world to compare to experiencing “totality,” not even seeing 99.999%, and that it is totally awe-inspiring, life-changing, etc.

Annie Dillard's essay in The Atlantic:

 www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2017/08/annie-dillards-total-eclipse/536148/ 

But, I wasn't going to be doing that. I had decided to stay at home, experiencing the 97% coverage we would have here.

I decided to find out what things were like right here at home, a place I know so intimately (after over 31 years here), where I know what birds call when, what frogs and insects I am hearing, how the leaves of the Tulip Poplar, Sugar Maple and White Ash flutter differently in the breeze, how the color of sunlight and sky change throughout the day. What better way to experience such a strange change as an eclipse than in a place of utter familiarity?

My decision was to stay here, as still and quietly as possible, in complete awareness, sensing every change from large to minute – listening, watching, feeling. Would the temperature change? Would birds and squirrels seek shelter? Would the rattly, hot sound of cicadas fade into the increasing, smooth and cooler sound of katydids? Would bees climb under leaves and flower petals to prepare for sleep? Would my dogs and cats pace the floor and crawl into safe places? Would they whine, or become completely silent?

Here, the eclipse would begin at 12:55 pm (Eastern Daylight Time,) reach its 97% peak at 2:20 pm, and be completely over and done with at 3:48 pm.

First, I would take in a normal morning as the sun rose beyond the woods, its rays filtered through the trees, then above the treetops, blasting the scene with bright sunlight.

Garden view at 8:54 am

Just another day during tomato season

Babette wants in, as usual

Sun rising through the woods at 8:54 am

Flowers were facing east, to the rising sun, 8:58 am ...

Pink Bindweed blossoms on fence

... and so was a Robin on our utility line.

Looking up and down the road at 8:58 am ...

I heard crickets singing, woodpeckers calling, and Mourning Doves with their flappy, chattery, short flights.

At 9:01 am

At 9:03 am

In the gardens - reflections of our Sun ...

9:07 am

At 9:17 am - taking periodic notes

Does it seem odd or trite that I wore black and white? I do love to wear black, so it's just what I grabbed from the closet that morning.

More consciously, I also took out this moon pin.

And, well, I had to do this (from a local winery):

 Besides, my friend Lynne would be coming over, and she likes wine.

At 9:10 am, it was becoming considerably muggy. Cicadas were sounding off in the woods (they seem to do that when it gets hot.) There were some butterflies out and about, but I didn't see them visiting flowers just yet. I saw a few Large Carpenter Bees and some of my neighbors' honeybees, and heard a Song Sparrow singing (I think).

Garden, Tibetan prayer flags, and corn, at 9:21 am

At 9:22 am, the Tibetan prayer flags in the Herb Garden Transformation Project were gently fluttering, and there was golden morning sunlight on the corn.

A minute later, the wind picked up, sending the flags flapping and the tall sunflower plants swaying. The cicadas became louder and a faraway rooster crowed.

At 9:29 am, a Pewee called its name repeatedly from inside the woods, and more butterflies had become active. Visible from the porch were various Swallowtail butterflies and the ubiquitous Cabbage Whites.

9:30 am

Sky toward the south at 9:34 am

One of my neighbors' honeybees busy on a sunflower

The sun clearing the woods' top by 9:34 am (as seen from behind our house)

At 9:40 am, a helicopter flew low over our place (we all know how loud those are!)  Curiously, it flew and hovered a long time over the area beyond our back property.

It was getting much warmer, and I would need to go indoors to cool off now and then. I tend to absorb heat and not release it very well.

Back outside by 10:50 am, I did some wandering around to see what everything was doing.

10:50 am: garden and corn field views, and a nice morning sun glow in the porch

10:51 am

Looking into the woods at 10:51 am

  

I walked down the driveway to look at the large patch of Red Clover that is frequented by butterflies and bees.

Monarch

Painted Lady

Silver-spotted Skippers

Female Black Swallowtail

Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (male?)

Bee with pollen bags (11:08 am)

Back to the gardens:

11:09 am: sunflowers and Native American corn

Okra: 11:10 am

Variegated Fritillaries (11:12 am): one chasing another (trying to mate?)

At 11:15 am, the Tibetan prayer flags were flapping while tall trees creaked in the wind. Cicadas were calling loudly from all around while butterflies and bees were very busy. A young mother jogged down the road while pushing a double stroller containing her two small children.

Then that helicopter was back, mysteriously.

Views of garden and woods at 12:04 pm

UFO at 12:05 pm?

At 12:06 pm, the sky was still clear, the sun very bright, and the wind had picked up.

At 12:08 pm, the sun was pretty much directly overhead. Cicadas were calling, and I heard Chickadees chattering in the distance while a Mourning Dove cooed nearby.

The helicopter had finally moved on, but an annoyingly loud, buzzing plane flew overhead.

I went inside for a quick lunch, and to cool off again.

At 12:20 pm, the breeze was barely cutting through the southwestern Indiana humidity. Cicadas were, of course, still loudly calling. Would they quiet down during the solar eclipse?

This old thing is not the most accurate thermometer. Was it really only 80 degrees, or did the humidity make if feel much hotter?

The eclipse was beginning at 12:55, according to what I had read. There still looked to be an intensely bright white round thing in the sky.

12:58 pm

At 12:56, cicadas were still calling, but I hadn't heard much from birds for awhile. But, it was a hot mid-day, a time when they normally become less active and thus less vocal.  There were crickets calling.

The man arrived to repair our old back-up A/C unit (fortunately, our main A/C system was working at the time, after the same company recently repaired it, too.) We had not known which day he would arrive. This time would not be as contemplative as I had hoped, but I was glad he had come to work on it.

Looking into the woods at 1:01 pm, six minutes after the start of the eclipse

1:02 pm

At 1:21 pm, we were 26 minutes in from the start of the eclipse, with 59 minutes until peak time. There was still wind. A Red-Bellied Woodpecker cackled in the woods and a Cardinal was making chipping sounds in the garden area. I know I wasn't supposed to look, but it was early, and to the “naked eye” the sun was still a white-hot, intense ball in the sky with no interruption. Hadn't the eclipse started?

Lynne had arrived before 1:48 pm with two pairs of eclipse glasses she miraculously found still for sale in town, and some white paper plates.

The man was working on the A/C unit.

I was not hearing any birds. The dogs and cats had become quiet, though all of that could have been due to the heat. Maybe something was happening.

I put on the eclipse glasses and … there it was! Yes! It was happening, after all! The sun was already one-third or more covered.

2:00 pm, 20 minutes before peak eclipse: A strange phenomenon on the porch - a straight line across the screens with an opaque view below and clear view above. The light dimmed inside the porch. 

The expanding shade of the Tulip Poplar that stands between porch and shed, at 2:00 pm - light beginning to rearrange between the leaves.

It was definitely darkening at 2:01, as if nearing twilight.

All was very quiet. The cicadas had stopped calling.

At 2:04 pm, the shade of the Tulip Poplar stretching out much further than normal for the time of day.

As shade from trees stretched out, crescents of light, multiple reflections of the eclipse, gradually took form.

2:05 pm

 Lynne with plates, 2:06 pm - notice shade of trees on ground and on roof of shed

We both tried looking through a pinhole of one plate, onto the second plate, but couldn't figure out what we were supposed to see. However, it was easy to see the crescents forming on the white plates.

Light crescents forming under the Tulip Poplar at 2:09 pm

More distinct at 2:11 pm

2:15 pm: five minutes to peak and the porch is very dim (actually a little darker than it looks in the photo). Notice lights and shadows on the fence and in the yard, and a band of intense sunlight along the screen bottoms.

It was darker yet at 2:16. Oddly, butterflies were still out.

 2:19 pm: one minute to peak time. Light and shadows on the grass next to woods' edge.

It was 2:20 pm Eastern Daylight time, and the eclipse had reached its 97% peak.

2:20 pm: peak eclipse time and multiple reflections of a 97% solar eclipse.

2:20 pm: I found Silas, our ultimate "Survivor Cat", sitting very still just inside the woods.

Looking into the woods at 2:20 - peak eclipse time.

Very friendly Pester, our black cat stepped out of the woods at 2:21 to greet me ...

... and became an Eclipse-Viewing Cat.

The atmosphere seemed eerie. The quality of light, though the same visibility as dusk, was somehow different from dusk, at 2:26 pm. Birds were busily twittering the way they do when getting ready to settle down for the night.

But, cicadas were calling again!

By 2:30 pm it was getting a little lighter, and birds were twittering, Did they think it was suddenly dawn? It was as if we had moved straight from dusk to dawn.

It occurred to me that I never heard katydids. The darkest part of the eclipse here, which wasn't very dark, was rather brief, too short an interval for the switch between cicadas and katydids. The cicadas had quieted for a short time, but conditions soon returned to their favor.

Lynne and I were both surprised (as well as other people in the general area) that 97% coverage did not result in more darkness.

The gardens and corn field at 2:50 pm

By 2:51 it was much lighter outside. At 2:59 pm we used the eclipse glasses and saw that the sun was about one-third covered, as it was the first time I used the glasses.

The man finished with his work and the old A/C unit was able to be used when needed. As he went outside I insisted he use the glasses to view the eclipse, and he was surprised by the clarity and amount of coverage at that time, despite the sun seeming like a bright white orb again.

Lynne and I walked down the drive to the big Red Clover patch. Many butterflies were out and about, including skippers, various Swallowtails, Pearl Crescents, fritillaries, Monarchs and more. Bees were busy, too.

 The eclipse was officially over at 3:48 pm. Lynne went home and things started to settle into the usual afternoon/early evening rhythms.

But, soon the atmosphere grew dark again – darker than it had been during the peak of the eclipse. The sky filled with dark clouds and rumblings sounded in the distance.

4:32 pm - A storm has arrived!

Soon it was pouring rain. It rained most of the evening, during the night, and into the next morning, to early afternoon.

The gardens and woods during heavy rain on August 22, 12:15 pm.

It was a welcome, much needed change.

My observations were not quite as quiet and contemplative as I had hoped. I had many disruptions (including having to run into the house now and then to cool off.) I realized later that I had not paid attention to some things, such as the feel of the air during the darkest time, and whether bees had crawled under leaves and petals.

Nevertheless, it was an interesting way to experience the eclipse – close to Nature, away from crowds, and with a friend. And, I didn't have to deal with traffic to get to an area of “totality.”

However, something is happening here in seven years, a more significant event for our area. I can start planning for it now.

In April of 2024 there will be another total solar eclipse across the country, including parts of the Midwest. In fact, the center line of the zone of 100% will be … right through here. We will be able to experience the wonders of “totalilty” right in “our own back yard" – literally. Or in our front yard, or gardens, or back field on the hill, or in the woods – or anywhere around here. Our area will be one of the big destinations.  We still will not have to deal with traffic, because we won't have to go anywhere.

I expect real darkness, and katydids, and that life-changing experience I've heard so many other people talk about. I don't know if the situation will provide me with much more quietude and awareness, though. We shall see.

Crescent moon on Friday, August 24, three days after the solar eclipse - as seen from our house.

Goodnight, Moon ...

Education

Education

June through August 2017

As the saying goes, “one man's trash is another man's treasure,” but sometimes one person's treasure becomes another person's treasure.

I needed a new desk. The one I had, an outdated computer desk, was not filling the bill for me anymore. It had features no longer useful, not enough drawers, and one shelf that was sagging under the weight of my growing collection of nature reference books. It felt cramped. There was never enough space.

To do the work I need to do – research my nature observations, or research for a piece of writing, or for a program – I needed real space and plenty of handy drawers.

I would need to have room to spread out my notebooks, sketchbooks , real books, and samples (such as dead bugs, pond water, bits of moss, etc.,) and to set up my laptop or microscope, or both. I needed to feel that my ideas, imagination and rambling thoughts would have room to grow. And I would need my most useful, needed books within easy reach.

In other words, to expand my knowledge and work for the kind of education I wanted to accomplish, I needed the right desk.

I kept an eye out for used desks, which were what I preferred, but also for new ones, in case one of those happened to be the right one at an affordable price. I had not started looking diligently yet but, as with many things, I knew I'd recognize the right one when I saw it.

The absolute ideal desk, I felt, would be one of those big old wooden teacher's desks -  the desks with lots of surface area on top and lots of drawers of various sizes, including that one narrow drawer at the top center where teachers tucked away squirt guns, big rubber bands and other items confiscated from troublesome children. They also have that pull-out square of wood where teachers often taped a class roster or seating chart. And they are as sturdy as all get-out because they were made during times when things were meant to last and be hard-working.

I wanted to avoid a metal desk, if possible. They are dark, cold and impersonal, their drawers opening and closing with the same squeal-bang of metal lockers echoing in an old school hallway. They have no real give, or acceptance, as old wood has.

I found my one-and-only in early June.

Garden views out of the screened porch on June 3.

Pester enjoys the screened porch quite often.

  

It was that time of year when summer was felt but not yet oppressive, when porch time was at its most pleasant.

One way I was enjoying June, and the rest of the summer: all of the Jane Austen novels (with tea, of course.) "Persuasion" was the first one.

A local friend on Facebook who knew I was looking for a desk (barely anyone did) sent me information about a sale at one of the local elementary schools – the next school in line for total remodeling. They were getting rid of a lot of old stuff – out with the old, in with the new. This was wonderful luck – not just the sale itself, but that someone told me, because it seemed to be barely advertised at all.

And so I went to be there one Saturday morning, right when it started at 8:00 am, in great anticipation, but not allowing myself to think I would find my “dream desk.” I walked into a hallway lined and stacked with stuff. Then I turned into the school gym where there were several rows of items, spanning the length of the gym. As if that wasn't great enough, I was told to walk about the whole building, because everything in every room and hallway was for sale.

Starting in the gym, I went up and down the rows of classroom furniture, white boards, various shelving units and magazine display racks, old A/V equipment and much more. There were piles of variously colored child-sized desk chairs taped off, reserved for a charter school that bought them during a special sale the day before.

I found a couple of old metal teacher's desks and, though they were not what I preferred, I kept them in the back of my mind, just in case.

Then … there it was, with racks and a pile of old headphones on top of it … the Desk of my Dreams. That big old sturdy wooden teacher's desk – and in great shape, to boot. I spoke to the friendly people in charge there to say I wanted to buy that desk, but I was going to look around the school at other things before paying. Two men took all the stuff off the top and moved it over to the side of the room. It was mine.

I wandered the building. In different places I found two of those sturdy old wooden school chairs (adult size) and snatched those up, bringing them down to “my” desk in the gym. Then I noticed there were chairs piled on the stage. One was a wheeled, adjustable, padded office chair. I inspected it, it passed, and it was mine.

I went to the nice people to pay for my choices. This is what it turned out to be:

–        sturdy wooden teacher's desk:                $5.00

–        3 chairs                                                    $1.00 each

Yes, that's correct – my Dream Desk cost me a five dollar bill. I had to have them repeat that to me.

The two nice men then carried the desk and chairs to my truck and loaded them in. Off I went, driving carefully home, letting my great good fortune gradually sink into my mind.

I explored each drawer, discovering the desk had last belonged to a Reading teacher. My explorations revealed remnants of the life in her classroom.

The pully-out thingie - there's one on both sides!!

I also found a strip engraved with the teacher's name as well as print-outs of the last class rosters used in her classroom.

The next day I scrubbed the desk inside and out and then spruced it up with lemon oil.

Nice, yes?

Mireille immediately took to it.

Her Highness, Queen Mireille, always seeking places where she can look down on the other pets.

What a cute nose.

The day after that I had the great pleasure of clearing out and cleaning up the mess that was the old computer desk. It was still in very good shape. I took it to the St. Vincent de Paul store in town, where they were very pleased to get it.

Now ya see it ...

... now ya don't!

A few days after that I had the pleasure of seeing the “new” desk put in its new position, with Richard's help.

I had remembered (and had designs on) a shelving unit that Richard made years ago, which had been left in the barn (a.k.a. “graveyard”) after we weren't using it anymore. I had checked on it a few times to see that it was still in good shape (it was.) This was the perfect time to resurrect and use it.

I backed my pickup truck down near the barn one day, then turned the shelving unit end-over-end out the barn opening, across the old sheep lot, up a little slope, and across some lawn to the truck, and lifted it into the bed.  I then drove it up in front of the screened porch. After Richard got home he helped me move it over to the porch door, then into the porch.

As anyone can imagine, it was filthy after years in the barn, and when I again found some time I scrubbed it all down.

 There were constant interruptions to the desk project after that, and time dragged on.

Garden views from the screened porch on June 24

The corn was knee high before the Fourth of July, and just about as high as an elephant's eye.

But eventually Richard was able to take the old backing off the shelves and put on a nice new, sturdy pegboard backing.

In process: new back for bookshelf

Next he deftly, creatively repaired a corner of the shelf that had been broken (or chewed?) by something while in the barn. I painted the whole unit with paint left over from Richard's own recent bookshelf project.

We had another spat of delays, including Independence Day/weekend festivities, and then we got back to it.

On July 5, Richard and I carried the shelving unit into the office room and stood it up on the desk while he inserted some screws to anchor it to the wall. It looked just as I had hoped it would.

The desk and shelves were IN!!!  What a great relief, as well as very exciting for me.

I wasted no time lining the shelves with field guides and other reference books.

And with room to spare!

Gradually I went through bags of stuff that I had removed from the old desk and started to determine what should go in which drawers and what should go on the desk top. I knew I wanted very little on the desktop, and only the essentials for quick-grabbing, because I wanted plenty of work space. And I knew that (ideally) I wanted the stereoscope on the desk, as I use if often.

Drawers ... it's just a start ...

Top left: mostly some things related to microscope use.

The top center drawer - some quick-grab items.

Top right: for quick notes, staples, etc.

The deep bottom right drawer will be for "current and ongoing projects" so I won't have to waste time hunting them down (label not related to my work - old VU library folder being reused.)

I'm still working on other drawers.

My drawers were already very different from the Reading teacher's drawers.  I did leave her name plate and the class roster in a drawer as a respectful nod to her work.

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Time has dragged on through this work-in-progress and I am anxious to have it all ready and useable. I want so much to work on and accomplish things here. I want essentials at my fingertips. I also want to make the whole room a pleasant place to hang out and work, so I will be changing curtains, decluttering the whole room, washing floors and walls, improving the lighting, carefully placing wall hangings, etc.

*********************************************************************

Before I could finish organizing the desk and filling drawers, I would have to completely shift books in the floor-to-ceiling shelves nearby so that I could make spaces for books and other nature study/education materials near the desk, move some books completely out, and completely reorganize it all.

Existing floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, section near desk: nature education books (for leaders and children,) other nature-related books, binders for citizen science and other projects, natural area information, and a bunch of history books that need to be gone through and re-shelved elsewhere.

*********************************************************************

It has been frustrating trying to find time for this large project, despite its importance. There has been one delay after another (various kinds,) and summer is busy with gardens and food preservation. But, I WILL get to it, and it will be done.

When it does all come together it will be a wonderful situation that I feel will propel my work along on a smoother continuum. Who knows what great things I may be able to accomplish?

There was a time when the Reading teacher was new, when she first sat at this very desk in a classroom, her first class roster at hand as her first batch of students filed in toward their desks. It was a fresh start for that teacher.

When this project is finally completed, when I am sitting at that same desk in the “extra room” of our house, my books, notebooks, and microscopes at hand, it will be a fresh start for me, too. It will be a different kind of education, but it will be effective and far-reaching, just as the previous teacher's practice must have been.

In my case, I'll be spending a lot of time “out there” in nature, then bringing it “in here” so that it can go back “out there” to other people, in various ways.

Almost total chaos during the book-shifting project.

One side of the room, with Indiana Dunes-related wall hangings that will stay (one especially inspiring one is about one of my heroes, Henry Chandler Cowles.) That couch is for studying and unfolds as a guest bed - obviously it can't be used as either for the time being.

As I always say: “It always gets worse before it gets better.”