I was up at three am to check the weather...
Rats! Heavy overcast moving in by seven and no clearly until the afternoon. It was -18°F and the roads were slippery with a traveler's advisory. Any sane person would go back to bed and be happy to not be outside in a Montana Winter. But today was special and I needed a clear morning at all costs.
A call to the weather officer at Malmstrom Air Force Base made my decision easy - Lewistown, about 110 miles to the East, was likely to be clear until noon. I threw on a coat and ran outside to plug in the Saab's block heater. Thirty minutes at 1800 watts should be enough to warm the oil enough to crank the engine. I would have just enough time to shower, eat and pack.
It was 34 years ago today. A total eclipse in the continental United States and hopefully my first. I had taken off time from Brookhaven National Labs and had flown out to my parent's house in Great Falls, Montana - smack dab in the path of totality. The weather had looked promising the night before, but Montana weather is Montana weather and now I had a few hours to reason with Montana Highway 200. Not exactly my favorite road even with ideal conditions.
Cars and trucks were rare, which was good as most of the trip was below 40 mph with lots of packed snow and icy ruts from the storm the day before. The clouds thinned as I went and about 20 miles West of Lewistown I saw stars for the first time. I managed to make it by seven giving me time to set up. Not knowing where to go, I turned into the Lewistown Airport and found about 200 people assembled for the show.
First contact was roughly about 8:15. Everything seemed to be taking place too slowly at this point. I checked my tripod and cameras and looked at the Sun through welder's glass and some mylar coated filters. Not much to see, but the 300mm lens on the old Fujica camera showed a few sunspots and gave a sense of the movement of the Moon relative to the Sun.
Eclipses are great places to meet people. I'm not a fan of the notion that waiting is a boring activity if there are other people around to talk to - particularly if everyone is focused on the same thing. There were a group of teens dressed in Fergus County Eagle jackets, a lawyer, several people from Great Falls who made the trip the night before, a couple from Austria, a Swede, an MD from San Francisco, a group from Cambridge, a few truck drivers who were wondering if this was worth sticking around for, and a retired baker from someplace near London.
The baker was the most interesting person. When he was young he saw his first total eclipse and found it "the closest thing to a religious experience" he ever experienced. He swore that he would see as many as possible during his life and this one would push his count to over a dozen.
a baker's dozen...
The guys from Cambridge had several very nice telescopes and an automated heavy tracking mount. They had done this before and were looking for high quality photography. Seeing the kit should have told me something, but I went back to work on my camera. I took a test shot and the shutter was having problems. The camera had been cleaned and lubricated with a special low temperature lubricant, but temperatures in the negative teens were too much. I wondered how brittle the film was.
Slowly the sky became darker. It seemed like dusk and the approaching darkness built everyone's excitement. One of the guys from Cambridge was also a physicist and our conversation about solar neutrino flux measurements was replaced with simple statements of wonder and excitement. Two hundred people had been turned into curious 12 year olds....
It was now too dark to read and I knew the Moon's shadow was approaching at something over Mach 1.5 from the West. I was getting ready for what I had hoped would be a furious two minutes with the camera, but there was a sudden dimming and I looked at the Sun and Moon without a filter. A shaft of sunlight shone on us through a mountain valley on the moon giving a bright diamond ring effect and several bits of red light were brightly visible. This is the hydrogen-alpha line, something I was very used to in undergrad physics labs, but the intensity made it the most beautiful red I had ever seen in my life.
That lasted a few seconds - I think - time was running at a different scale for me now. Everything seemed to be happening too fast.
I starred at the corona - the Sun's atmosphere - extending out maybe a third of the solar radius. It was much smaller than I had imagined and much more ephemeral looking. I had expected the Moon to be black, but it wasn't - it was maybe as bright as the sky surrounding the corona. It was the surface of the Moon being lit from the Earth. I wondered if you could take a photo that would show features on the Moon during totality, but I quickly dropped that as time was running too quickly.
Turning to the camera, mad at myself for missing second contact, I looked to the East and saw something that took my breath away. The leading edge of the umbra was moving across the hills. The boundary was a bit feathered and it was moving along at well over 1,000 mph. It was the my visceral feeling of how big this really was.
As I turned I looked North and saw stars. Maybe down to about 4th magnitude. They were stars you expected during warmer times of the year and their angle was all wrong. I quickly found a few constellations to get a sense of the sky and forced myself to work on the camera and get a few images of the corona and maybe third contact.
I managed two exposures and the shutter froze. A bit of thinking told me to just give up. That extra heavy suitcase, the battery pack for the clock drive and the preparation of the camera all down the drain, but the intensity of the events as they were unfolding had thankfully overpowered me. Freed from babysitting the camera I could enjoy the minute or so of remaining darkness.
People were cheering, whooping, swearing, applauding and jumping around. Just before third contact I looked North at the stars again knowing I'd only see that again when I was at my next total eclipse and wondering where I would be in life in 2017 when the next American total eclipse would take place.
August 21, 2017 - I plan on being somewhere along this path1...
The corona is enormously beautiful along with the hydrogen-alpha light from a couple of flares blazing away. I could have watched it for hours...
A loud sonic boom, followed by another a few seconds behind and then another. It must have been some Air Force or National Guard fighters enjoying the view and trying to keep pace with the shadow. I briefly looked up and caught one of them perhaps six or seven miles up with a bright glow from his afterburner making him easy to spot.
Suddenly a brilliant flash of light and another diamond ring. The Sun was finally shining through after a bit over two minutes of totality. It seemed like it had been ten seconds are less.
I looked around at the crowd. It was still very much like dusk, and the Sun was 99% covered, but no one was looking a it. The difference between totality and 99.9% totality is infinite. There is no comparison.
But looking around at the people suddenly made me wish I had a working camera. Everyone I saw had the same thing I felt on my face.
tears frozen to their cheeks...
There was a lot of hugging. It was now clear to me the old English baker had made the correct decision.
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1 I won't be taking a camera for the eclipse proper. There are professional who will get much better images anyway. Recording this yourself is diverting and just not worth it. What you see with your eyes is much more beautiful than any photo. I've been fortunate enough to see quite a bit of Nature so far and nothing competes with a total solar eclipse.
I usually spend a bit of time and add some photos or drawings to the blog posts, but they would be such lame approximations of the real thing that I'll leave them out this time
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Recipe Corner
For some time we have been trying to duplicate the lentil soup from a local Afghan restaurant. This is seriously good stuff and there are times that is all I want ...
Finally we learned the magic ingredient happens to be dried sour plums. I was unfamiliar with them. We can't get them locally and I won't be going to the city for a few weeks, so I asked around and found people recommend Fastachi. Their service is prompt and, two days later we could try experimenting.
A few tries and it was nailed. This is not a perfect replica but happens to be even better. An incredible soup that is simple to make. It is wonderful served with a warm crusty bread. You can also drizzle a bit of olive oil on top and add some shaved toasted pistachios for a nice presentation, but I certainly won't fault anyone for just digging in and enjoying. The recipe makes four largish bowls of soup.
Red Lentil Afghan Soup with Dried Sour Plums
Ingredients
° 4 tbl extra virgin olive oil
° 2 medium-large onions minced
° 6 large garlic cloves minced
° 1-1/2 liters (6 to 6-1/2 cups) water (may need to add more)
° 280g red lentils (cleaned! - we use Trader Joe's split red lentils)
° 1/2 tsp red pepper
° 1 tsp turmeric
° 16 dried sour plums minced - a good source is Fastachi
° non-iodized sea salt to taste, after freshly ground black pepper to taste
° your best extra virgin olive oil for garnishing (optional)
° toasted sliced or shaved pistachios for garnishing (optional)
Technique
° sauté onions and garlic in evoo until onions are golden
° add water, plums, spices and salt and bring to boil
° reduce to medium and add lentils, stir
° drop temp to medium low and cover
° cook 40-45 minutes - stir regularly and add water if necessary
° puree it if you like a smooth soup
° black pepper to taste (it takes a boatload of black pepper)
° garnish with a bit of olive oil and some shaved toasted pistachios (optional)
counting time
A gentle snow is falling in still air. It is cold enough that the flakes are fairly small, but it has been satisfying watching with the lights out save a few candles from the small feast today. Time to reflect a bit on time.
A decade ago I left a nice corporate position in a then-failing company and formed a partnership with three others. The most significant thing I did was swear to myself that I would get outside every day for a walk of at least an hour. Usually I'm working out of the home and these take place close to noon, but there are times when they've been in foreign places at 2am when scheduling is tight. I think I've missed six in the past decade - all due to illness.
You learn a few things doing this. One is that you can usually get around in nearly any weather - most days will present an hour.1 Another is you soon learn to forget about music and other distractions so you can properly take in what is around you. But the real epiphany was gaining an appreciation for the local flow of time.
I won't bore you with the details of what I see and I'm quite incapable of writing well enough, but you do notice change. During the Spring there is sometimes dramatic change in an hour's time, but much of it is more subtle. After about three years this flow of time became engrained in me - sort of like the night sky became a part of my neighborhood when I was a kid. After about five or six years I began to notice the differences on a scale larger than the yearly cycle and that is still a process.
It seems right to try and understand some of these out of curiosity. I'm a believer that a deeper understanding only adds to the beauty of nature. I spend a bit of time trying to understand what drives the local sugar maples, the local Little Brown Bat population as well as tracking a half dozen species of fireflies in the Summer.2
Today's walk went into a "civilized" part of the woods that I hadn't visited in the past month. A local walking club marked a trail, but it tends to overgrowth as few people use it. This year the township decided to "pave" it with the ground up bits of trees that fell during Sandy and there was a formal path that was almost three kilometers long.
All of this has made me more aware of where the Earth is in its orbit - I tend to mark the solstices and equinoxes, the aphelion and perihelion, the earliest and latest sunrises and sunsets and a few meteor showers.
These are markings on a timepiece that we are embedded in should we chose to read it. It changes over time, but generally on a scale that is too slow for us to notice.
These markings and the flow between them has given me an appreciation for time on a scale that is a bit longer than the seconds, minutes and hours we are generally aware of. Nature offers so much more than we can perceive.
Today is Imbolc and we mark it with a small feast. It is a cross quarter day - one of the four halfway points that divide the seasons. They were very important in Northern Europe and holidays like Groundhog's Day, May Day and Halloween are tied to them.
Imbolc is usually associated with Ireland, Scotland, England and Wales. It marks the lengthening of available light and the point where many animals become pregnant (it is currently a very busy time out in the woods even here).
Here is part of a note I sent to one of you on the holiday last year..
It turns out groundhog's day is a cross quarter day - specifically Imbolc (spelling depending on which tradition you are using). The cross quarter days mark the halfway points between the seasons and many cultures use them. I like them because they tend to represent the season you are currently in rather than the starting point.
My grandmother was Irish and celebrated Lá Fhéile Bríde, which is the feast day of St Brigid in Irish.3 It is roughly the time you would see the earliest beginnings of Spring in Ireland - namely the ewes would be getting ready to have lambs. The holiday was a big thing with her and had candles, rich foods and a huge family dinner. The ashes of the fire were sorted through to make predictions and she said the proper way to do this was with a bonfire. You would also look for signs of certain animals - the hedgehog was one - for signs of the future.
The curious part is it is the time of the hag (Cailleach in Irish Gaelic). This is an old wise woman often dressed in rags and carrying a bundle. She is supposed to be a magical being like a fairy. On Imbolc she carries firewood for the rest of the Winter. One of her powers is controlling the weather, so if she is going to make Winter last a long time she makes certain the day is bright and sunny so she can find as much firewood as possible. Poor weather means she must be sleeping or wants a short Winter and it will soon be over.
The more modern celebration (since Catholicism) is also called Candlemass and is associated with St Brigid in some way I can't remember other than young unmarried women make ribbons for an effigy of her. St Brigid is supposed to visit households in the night (sort of like Santa Claus) and if she has the household is blessed and protected. You check the ashes of the fire that has burned overnight for signs, but I never spent enough time with her to figure that out…
So many traditions out there -- it is neat how this one got tangled up in a day that is noted still.
To try and keep touch with tradition and remember my grandmother we have a big family dinner with a lot of rich foods and lots of candles. We don't have a fireplace, but we sing and generally do music. It would be nice to have a bonfire some day.
oh - the pronunciation is roughly law ay-leh bree-djeh. imbolc is usually pronounced with a hard c, although I've heard it with a hard g and sometimes the c is silent… I don't know which is preferred.
There is a glow of happiness at the moment. A wonderful little feast of roasted winter produce and nuts and a homemade pecan pie, the candles and some music.
Now time to post this, bundle up and take a walk in the falling snow with Sukie so as to properly capture a bit of the now.
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1 If you need to walk on glare ice ask me about tungsten studded strap-on soles for your boots. They are incredible effective and walking in an ice storm is a thing of beauty if you have the sense to stay away from traffic and trees.
2 There are many outlets for citizen science if you have an interest. I've joined an organization does a large scale firefly census and built a simple instrument that can discriminate between firefly types (their signatures have different spectral and temporal characteristics). You can also observe and even instrument maple trees to learn a bit more about how they function - the huge win is maple syrup if you are crazy enough.
As to the beauty of understanding nature more deeply I note a Feyman interview on the subject. I would not criticize anyone else's appreciation of beauty, but for me how it works and how all of these pieces fit in with each other is a very deep beauty - like the rich beauty of a friend that lays hidden until you begin to know them.
If you carefully observe and craft good questions, Nature will answer and leave you with a better understanding that leads to a richer set of questions. That conversation of sorts has opened up great beauty.
3 Sadly I never picked up much of my Grandmother's culture - like swearing in Irish Gaelic.
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Recipe Corner
The pie for today's Imbolc feast. Of course it was served with a bit of vanilla ice cream.
Maple Pecan Pie
Ingredients
° 1 unbaked pie shell
° 215 grams/2 cups pecans (coarsely chopped)
° 55 grams/¼ cup dark brown sugar
° 25 grams/¼ cup tapioca starch
° 4.5 grams/ ¾ teaspoon salt
° 240 grams/1 cup maple syrup - Grade B preferred (dark amber colored)
° 60 grams/¼ cup heavy cream
° 4 grams/1 teaspoon vanilla
° 2 large eggs
Technique
° Preheat the oven to 425°F
° Put the chopped pecans in the unbaked pie shell. Whisk together the sugar, tapioca starch and salt in a medium sized bowl. Whisk in the maple syrup, cream and vanilla. Whisk in the eggs. Pour over the pecans. Bake for 20 minutes and then turn the heat down to 350°F without opening the oven. Bake for an additional 30 minutes. Let pie cool at room temperature for at least 30 minutes before serving.
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