I wouldn't label myself an amateur astronomer by any means, but I've always been sufficiently interested in the subject that you could call me "an enthusiast."
For example, I own a telescope I sometimes break out to look at the moon, Jupiter and its moons, and Saturn's rings. And I'll run outside and look up if I know the International Space Station is going to fly over.
That's generally the extent of my astronomical engagement.
But all of us here in Northeast Ohio will be looking skyward in just over a month's time on Monday, April 8th, when we experience a total solar eclipse. Cleveland is smack dab in the middle of the path of totality, as are several other American cities including Dallas, Little Rock, Buffalo, and of course, Caribou, Maine.
We experienced a partial eclipse back in 2017, but this one is going to be total. To the point that it's going to get dark in the middle of the afternoon, even if the sky is cloudy (as is the case more often than not around here in early April). If skies are somewhat clear, we'll have four minutes or so to watch the moon pass fully in front of the sun, a sight most of us will never see again in our lifetimes.
I'm pumped. I've already ordered eclipse glasses for Terry, Jack and myself.
As a society, we are understandably so engrossed in what's going on with our ground-level lives most of the time we forget that, as Psalm 19 puts it, "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands."
The universe is an incomprehensibly big place, but even our relatively tiny solar system is a constant source of wonder. There is so much to marvel at if we just take a little time to stop and look up.
I rarely do, but on that Monday afternoon, millions of us will experience one of nature's true celestial spectacles.
I can't wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment