The Eyes of the Sun

Mama always told me not to look into the eyes of the sun….

But Mama …. that’s where the fun is….

If you don’t feel like going back in time for a whole seven minutes, you can advance the toggle to the 4:48 point and hear the famous lines that Mama told Manfred Mann.

With the total eclipse of the sun taking place tomorrow, Monday, August 21st, warnings have been everywhere about not looking at the sun, even if you think it feels okay. Those rays will still burn. “Your eyes blaze out” should just be a fun expression, not a medical emergency that becomes a permanent condition.

I’ve heard all about the special glasses you can buy – don’t be tempted just to use sunglasses. That won’t do the trick. You can also put a tiny hole in a piece of cardboard and watch the eclipse happening as a silhouette on the ground.

Somehow it doesn’t seem enough, but as tempting as it is, I won’t look into the sun to be blinded forever.

I read somewhere that even taking several short glances at the sun can result in temporary vision damage that can last for months.

I must thank my sister-in-law for the reminder to keep the pets inside! Dogs may be wondering what is going on and look at this phenomenon, even briefly.

I’m going to do the cardboard thing and/or watch it on TV.

It’s kind of a fun and exciting thing though, scientifically speaking. I look forward to not seeing this event. Ha ha.

PS I have to add a disclaimer. Not responsible if, like me, you get this song on the brain after you listen to it.

 

What is it?

It looks like a comet, but it’s not. It looks like a splotch on the truck window or the camera lens, but it’s not. As I drove past, I had to admit that the thing that might have been a sun with a halo,… wasn’t …

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unless there are two suns. Maybe it’s a mini rainbow on the edge of a cloud?dscn6506

Like a Lamb

This year, March came in “like a lion,” as any herring fisherman will tell you.

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They must have had some terrible days even in these relatively sheltered waters. I know I would be so seasick if I had to be out there.

But at the end of March I took some pictures of the same area and it was a very different story. It was early morning and the sun would be creeping over the horizon momentarily. Its warm glow already lit up the few stragglers of the clouds that had blown through overnight.

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It was still  early, but when I looked more closely, I saw a partial yellow globe.

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No, it’s not the sun. That’s the waning moon. The sun was rising far to the east of it, shining on the clouds around the moon. In the stillness of the dawn the sun sent poetry rays to me:

“Oh Moon, I guess you think you’re cool

To sashay round that cloud,

But keep on moving, you old fool,

While I shine warm and proud.”

The next day, also early in the morning (I’m out there because that’s when the dogs have to go out), the sun was rolling up its sleeves, ready to get to work and warm this corner of the earth. I welcomed it and told it to stay as long as it wanted.

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In these last days of the month, March truly went out “like a lamb.”

From Sun to Ice and Fog

 

After a relaxing week doing fun things near Olympia, Washington, with my sister-in-law, I drove home yesterday. It has been as cold as -9 C. in Oly, and I was looking forward to the more temperate climate of Vancouver Island. The joke was on me though. Oly warmed up to +6 and Vancouver Island dropped below freezing and had a dump of snow.

My drive home along I-5 was on dry road surfaces and with partly sunny skies. A perfect day for the drive. The ferry ride to the island was calm too, and I felt very lucky to have had such a good day of travelling.

Almost home, with maybe an hour to go, the roads became wet, with ice at the edges. I usually ignore the frequent signs on the many bridges that say, “Bridge Ices,” but yesterday they scared me a bit, especially when I was in the passing lane next to an oversize load. I imagined myself sliding under the track of the skidder that was loaded on the flatbed truck, and sticking well out into my slippery lane.

The highway was blanketed by fog so thick I could barely make out the car in front of me. It’s a good thing I knew my way home because the “pea soup” was thick all the way to my house and down my driveway. I groped my way into my house and was welcomed by the captain and two lovely dogs, Ruby and Emma, who covered me with nuzzles and kisses. I think they were glad to see me. The captain was too, of course. To his credit, he had the house clean(ish) and the dishes done.

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Almost home, the hills just south of the Comox Valley. This is the morning after I came home. The fog is all down in the valley now, and no longer on the highway.