At the end of most days, Clay, Jake and I walk the perimeter of our ranch. We like to look at the plants, blue sky about our future and watch Jake do his best to chase away the turkey vultures flying 200 feet above us. Sunday evening, as we neared the end of our walk, Clay said we needed to go in to fix dinner. I thought, “Gee, it doesn’t feel that late, but it sure is getting darker.” Then I said out loud, “Why is it so dark?” We went into the house, and I said again, “Why is it so dark when it’s only 6:35 in the evening?”
I went outside, mystified by the failing light. Then I remembered. “It’s the eclipse!” I shouted. “It’s the eclipse and we almost missed it!” I ran back inside. “Look, it’s the eclipse!” Then I remembered we couldn’t look at it or we’d go blind. “No, don’t look or you’ll go blind!” I hollered. I ran back into the house to poke a hole into paper so we could look at the shadow of the eclipse against a wall. There was a lot of shouting, yelling, hollering and running; all by me. My friends and family are used to it.
I finally found our three-hole punch and held the punched paper between an outside wall and the sun. There, on the side of our house, were three eyes staring back at us. Three perfect, bright circles with black centers. While we watched, the eyes began to shift as the moon moved across the sun. It was like the eyes were looking around our farm. We hope it met with their approval.
