BEFORE:

Unless you’ve had your head in the sand for a while, you witnessed the intense media coverage leading up to the total eclipse of the sun on April 8.

Here are examples of some of the headlines I saw around the web in the weeks leading up to the big day:

• Why So Much Fuss About an Eclipse?
  • “Maybe you are wondering if people have lost their minds. Why all the fuss about a predictable alignment of the Earth, moon and sun? Aren’t there more pressing concerns…?” (from an opinion piece in the Washington Post)
• Some Parts of the U.S. Could See Cloudy Skies During Monday’s Solar Eclipse
• Why You Owe It To Yourself to Witness April 8’s Total Solar Eclipse
• Why I’m Staying Home for The April 8 Solar Eclipse
• NASA Urges U.S. Public To Listen During April 8’s Total Solar Eclipse—And Report Back (this one is about insects and birds going suddenly quiet during the eclipse)

Various municipalities in the path declared states of emergency ahead of the eclipse, worried that they wouldn’t be able to accommodate the hordes of people anticipated to descend on their normally-peaceful towns.

My city, Toledo, Ohio, is just barely in the 115-mile wide path of totality. For a long time I wasn’t paying attention to the hype, but once my newsfeeds became filled with almost nothing else, I started reading more about it and realized it was going to be an amazing thing to see. I spent lots of time reading fascinating articles about the science of eclipses and about the sun and moon.

My house is barely in the zone of totality, just 3.5 miles from the cutoff line. Using an eclipse app, I determined that I would experience 1 minute and 11 seconds of totality at home, beginning at 3:12:28 pm. Some places in Toledo could get nearly two minutes of totality. I could have driven an hour southeast to enjoy a couple more minutes of totality, but decided I didn’t want to deal with potential traffic tie-ups. Still, I didn’t want to experience it by myself, as I’d read that a big part of the enjoyment is watching the varying reactions of people around you. So I made plans with my neighbors to have our own little celebration to share the experience, and was getting increasingly excited as the big day approached.

It seemed everyone and their brother was selling eclipse glasses, and it was important to make sure you got legitimately safe glasses instead of some of the fakes out there.

For a few weeks ahead of the date, the topic of potential cloud cover became the overriding concern for those planning to watch the eclipse. Our local meterologist did a great job keeping us updated with the predictions for cloud cover from various computer models.

On April 3 he said he was “cautiously optimistic” about cloud cover after looking at the most recent weather maps. On April 6, he said “Even if the forecast ends up wrong, the best weather data right now shows that we are among the best places in the world to see totality.” He advised everyone in northwest Ohio to be prepared for massive numbers of visitors on Monday, and to travel with food, water, and a full tank of gas. Excitement here was rising to a fever pitch.

AFTER:

So how was it?!

A few hours before the eclipse we had gorgeous blue skies without a cloud in sight, absolutely perfect conditions. I went outside to try out my eclipse glasses and saw the sun as a crisp orange ball. I put a filter on my cell phone camera and took a couple shots but they were just too blurry. But that was fine as I wanted to enjoy the experience without the distraction of trying to photograph it. I also knew there would be millions of photos of the eclipse online afterward anyway.

A half hour before the start of the eclipse, I went next door briefly to share the anticipation with my neighbors Cynthia and Gary. They were making a bonfire so we could have s’mores and champagne. I was bubbling over with anticipation, and could barely contain myself at this point. I felt deep gratitude that I had them to share the experience with.

Just before 2:00 I went back across the street and the three of us were joined by two other neighbors as well as their border collie, Katt, who I adore. The eclipse started just then, and we all put our glasses on to get our first looks as the moon began to move in front of the sun. A tiny slice slowly turned into a slightly bigger slice, then by 2:30 it looked like a cookie with a decent-sized bite taken out of it.

We continued chatting, eating s’mores and drinking champagne, playing with Katt, pausing every few minutes to put our glasses on and check the progress of the eclipse. At about 2:45 we noticed we were feeling distinctly cooler — the day had been sunny and warm, so this was a bit disorienting. I ran back to my house to grab a sweater about 15 minutes before full totality. The light continued to fade, but it was somehow different than the light at normal twilight. Very otherworldly.

I had my phone opened to the World Clock so we’d know the exact second when totality began, when it would be safe to take our glasses off. We counted down the last ten seconds and then took our glasses off to see the bright ring of the sun’s corona circling the moon. And suddenly the neighborhood erupted in cheers and clapping as groups of neighbors all celebrated the moment of totality together. I get chills remembering that moment; we were scattered around the neighborhood but we were together. As we cheered, Katt started barking in confusion; I don’t think she even noticed the eclipse, but was just reacting to us. We calmed her down and then all focused on the ring of fire around the moon for about a minute, and when a very bright spot appeared on the right edge of the moon we quickly put our glasses back on. And I think that’s the specific moment that will stick in my memories of today, when the brightness of the sun began to peek from behind the moon again. It was as if the world was being reborn somehow. And I wonder how many of those 71 seconds I was holding my breath in awe as I was aware of wanting to stop time and be swallowed up in that spectacle in the sky.

We were all beaming as we talked about our feelings and impressions of the event, as the light began coming back after totality was over. For me it was a moment to be reminded of our place in the universe, and just to be present with an awareness of those other celestial bodies we usually take for granted.

We’d expected to hear the birds fall silent as the light disappeared, and they certainly did. And it was extraordinary to hear them take up the dawn chorus as the light returned a few minutes later. I wonder if the birds were confused by that sudden yet brief “night.” I imagined the grackles bemusedly saying to each other, “Wow, honey, yesterday seemed shorter than usual, and I didn’t sleep at all last night!”

Now I’m sitting here in my sunroom with the bright sun shining again at nearly 5:00 pm. I’m reminded of the healing power of focusing on the natural world and getting outside ourselves, even briefly as we did today. It’s so easy to feel isolated and disconnected in our busy and complicated world with competing demands for our time. But today we bonded over our shared experience of what we witnessed in the sky, and how we noticed the birds singing, and just being humans together in an incredibly beautiful and magical world. Now I understand why some people become “eclipse chasers.” If I had a magic wand I’d make sure everyone could experience this at least once. It definitely lived up to the hype, and I’m grateful that I was here to see it, and that I was able to share it with friends.

Did you get to see the eclipse? I’d love to hear your impressions of it.

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Note for further learning opportunity: I encourage you to click that image of the sun’s corona at the top of this post, which will take you to the NOAA website that explains how they monitor the sun continuously using telescopes mounted on weather satellites. It’s fascinating stuff!