Ever since Josh and I made the decision to move to Indiana a year ago, one of the first things he said was, “Well, lucky us. We’ll be right in the line of totality for the 2024 solar eclipse!”
I had forgotten about it, until we opened our airbnb in January and the first booking was April 7-9th. “Awesome! Hmm, that’s random” we thought. Then in February we started getting news articles on our phones about the solar eclipse. Josh found out school was canceled Monday, April 8th. And then we put it together. The entire month of March and into April was one big "eclipse" talk: people were even renting their fields for $300 a car (or $1,300 for the day/night!) to watch.
I had seen the eclipse in 2017, standing in the horse training field where I worked back in Utah. The sky turned a little orange, the crescent shapes on the ground were cool, and I probably stared at the sun a little too long. Haha! But seeing it in totality was something else, for sure.
To set the record straight, Josh having the day off of school was the best part. We woke up early and conquered the day! We made new nesting boxes for the chickens, we made a goat shelter for our “due any day” goat (another post perhaps!), we planted our back field with grass seed and ammonium sulfate, and we even cleaned up some more of our bonfire area.
These are my favorite types of days, when we can get all the projects done that I can’t do by myself and we all get to just be outside spending time together.
Oh, and did I mention we ALSO got to see a total solar eclipse?
It was interesting, about an hour before totality, you could tell that the world around us was different. The sky was starting to tint. It was as if you were in a movie where the editor just put a slightly blue film over the screen. The closer we got to 3:06pm, the darker it got.
Our sweet Airbnb guests were from Colorado and had the whole setup in our backyard. They had a telescope with a reflector so you could tell where the moon was in relation to the sun. He also had his big camera set up to capture the moment.
It happened slowly, and then all at once. We had our eclipse glasses (which Hazel LOVED) to view the sky before totality, and then as soon as the moon went in front of the sun … it got quiet.
It got cold.
The frogs and crickets started, the birds sang their evening songs, and there was a slightly pink sunset in every direction you looked.
It was 9:15pm on a summers evening, when you’ve worked hard, accomplished a lot, and you’re ready to go in for dinner … but stop to just sit down and watch the sun fade behind the mountains for a second.
…. except it was 3:06 in the afternoon …
Wild.
We didn’t need our eclipse glasses at this point (though Hazel kept putting them on her face, pointing to the sky and saying “Moon, moon!!”) You just looked up and saw this big, glowing ring of fire in the sky. Our pictures don't do it justice.
After 3 minutes and 42 seconds (but who’s actually counting??), the moon moved away and even just the tiniest sliver of the suns light made everything bright again.
The frogs and crickets became silent, the birds returned to their daytime melody, and the rooster crowed as all of our chickens got up from their huddled beds and returned to normal daytime feasting.
Wild? Totalllity.
The after effects were very much the same as the before; it was as if the movie editor had put back on the blue tint over the screen and gradually it became more and more of a “daylight” feel, until within minutes, you were transported from that 9:15pm summer night, back to 3:30 in the afternoon, where it’s a little too warm and you head inside for a popsicle.
At least, that’s what we did.
Super cool opportunity, and even cooler that we didn’t even have to travel anywhere to see it (... well, except pack up everything we own, buy a house and move to Indiana). Step outside, work all day, stop to smell the evening air (at 3 in the afternoon!), and then get back to work.
Oh, and watch your goat have two babies right before totality.
No big deal. Just a totall(it)y perfect day.
(Oh, and if you're interested, our chickens are obsessed with the nesting boxes we made. It’s the little things.)
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