The list of sky phenomena that never get old to me includes:
- sunsets
- sunrises
- full moons
- tiny crescent moons
- visible constellations
- sun haloes
- altocumulus and cirrocumulus clouds (I found the name for these by searching “dotty clouds”)
- crepuscular rays
Until seven years ago, I wouldn’t have thought of adding an eclipse to this list. It just wasn’t on my radar as something that might be possible for me to see. When I viewed the effects of a partial eclipse through my makeshift pinhole camera in New York that year, I immediately looked up when the next eclipse would come across the US and was giddy to realize it would be in only seven years, and totality could be seen from Cleveland (if it weren’t too cloudy that April day).
At the time, I didn’t know I’d be living here now, but I figured if not I’d at least plan to visit my hometown for the event.
I should try to describe the experience for those who weren’t lucky enough to be living or visiting in the path of totality. I could talk about how people don’t talk enough about the wild lighting that accompanies the spectacle. I would tell you how before we reached totality I claimed I wouldn’t remove my glasses till 30 seconds after (thanks to the fear ingrained in me from childhood about eye damage during an eclipse), but the second I saw the moon fully settle in front of the sun I threw them off to be greeted by a surreal vision of the environment.
I want to do this–I feel I have a duty to do this–but you’ll have to forgive me. While plenty has already been written about eclipses, and more will surely be written, it’s not the reason I won’t contribute. It’s my own shortcoming as a writer that makes it impossible to even begin to describe one of nature’s showstoppers. In the same way that I don’t have words to explain how a sunset makes me feel, I couldn’t begin to do justice to how a solar eclipse feels.
I can only tell you that it’s being added to my sky list immediately.
A New Thing Every Day 