Trying to describe and remember the eclipse of 2017, I wrote this poem but never published it, and today seems like a good time to take it out.

80 percent totality was apparently enough to fool a barred owl in the neighborhood, who called out once about 3:20 and then went back to sleep.

On top of all those stresses, (County Judge Ruben) Becerra has also had to manage warnings from his highly superstitious mother, who is afraid of the eclipse: “She says, ‘Don’t go outside!’ and I say ‘Mom, I’m the director of emergency management. I have to go outside.’” —WSJ

Weeds or flowers—it’s only nomenclature.
Granted beauty by changeable nature
Best embrace it to the hilt,
Lest it wilt.

Don’t mistake her ‘cause she’s small.
You want a toy, go buy a doll.

This is… mostly what I want. I haven’t come up with a way to do the texturing of the sunflower; the punch leaves dents and the awl is too small. Also not sure if I want color. But I’m happy with the butterfly.

In an attempt to be positive, if you positively detest Daylight Savings Time as much as I do, here’s a reminder that my solar clock will always tell you what time it really is, wherever you are. (On earth, anyhow.) And if anyone can make this into the lock screen for my phone, give me a holler.

Meanwhile, here are some flowers. Actually there were so many blooming along the Eno River today that I could not find a place to sit down to eat lunch without squashing them. So I ate my PBJ while walking.

There’s a project in there somewhere… if I just keep planing maybe I will find it

Time to harvest some spinach.