I got to take a few days off, and drive down to southern Illinois for the total eclipse. I'll share my thoughts (sorry for the verbose post) from our view of totality from a small cemetery just north of Goresville IL.
My young daughter and I sat together and watched the crescent get thinner by degrees. The sky began to seem "off" a bit but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. She said it was too grey, and so it was, like someone had turned down the saturation on a film. A star began to shine in the western sky.
I wasn't aware of the pace of a total eclipse. I had read things, I had studied the science in my childhood fascination of the sun and moon. The first hours leading to the eclipse, driving down rural Illinois roads in slow traffic, then later waiting as the sun slowly became smaller, had not prepared me for the speed at which the actual event would occur, how it speeds up at a logarithmic pace as you near totality.
The sky changed quickly from eerie to threatening, like a terrible storm was fast approaching. My instincts told me to run, get to the basement, Katie bar the door, but it was too late. The crowd hushed. The birdsongs died. I called my daughter to me, surrounded her with my arms. Shouts called out from every side. Our subconscious was aware of the change before we knew it, before we could steel ourselves, it was upon us.
The sky settled into an unnatural shade of dark indigo. At the horizon, equally in every direction, was a dawn glow of orange. Stars everywhere. A loud buzz of cicadas began from the forest. Where we had been sweating in sun ten minutes ago, we settled into the grass as if it was a nice summer night.
I heard myself say "Oh look!"
She had seen. Where we had watched a sliver of sun through our paper and film glasses a second before, there was a hole in the sky.
It was a black error in the sky, like someone had cleanly cut out a small but perfect circle. Around the hole there was a smear of white, subtly changing and dancing in the indigo sea of sky. It lasted an eternity, and not nearly long enough.
It ended as a daybreak set at breakneck speed. A diamond broke free from the black circle, then many diamonds, and it was time to look away. Birds suddenly began to sing, and a rooster crowed. Around us, relieved smiles from many in the crowd.
See you in 2024.
Edit: It was about 12 hours from Marion Illinois to Ann Arbor, Michigan with gas and dinner stops. I'd do it again, no question.
