For a brief time in the spring here in the White River watershed, the redbuds fairly glow with their pale purple blooms. It’s one of the signs of the shifting seasons. You suddenly notice how widespread the trees are: all over the hillsides, along the roads. Who knew that those small trees–unnoticed for the rest of the year–were capable of such beauty?

As I write this, our neighbor is having his healthy redbud cut down. Something about it making a mess on his roof. Suffice it to say we have very different ideas about trees.

During that spring bloomtime, I can walk up my stairs and see the redbud framed in our bedroom window. It’s astonishing, every time.

One day I had been changing clothes in our bedroom with the door shut. As I turned to leave, I was caught up by the light playing on the door. Later, I wrote the following:

I reach to open–
pause–the redbud behind me
glorifies the door.

I’m on the road today—driving from Salem to Paoli to French Lick to Loogootee, looking for old tools in junk shops and flea markets. Listening to the Why We Drive audiobook, appropriately enough.

A couple of cops had a car stopped in front of our house last night around 2am. Probably a drug arrest, since they were searching the car. First thing I thought: they’d better not run because they’ll end up stepping on one of our plants. Thankfully, they did not.

Garden fairy

A quick video of the moment the eclipse happened at our house. You can hear some of the neighbors cheering.

Lots of people out walking and riding bikes. Beautiful day. Feels like a less hot July Fourth. We should have eclipses more often.

The head of Indiana’s DNR (who is also my neighbor) says all campgrounds and state park lodges are full. Guests from all fifty states and three other countries. So, plenty of people around–but the roads are quiet. People seem to have made the wise decision to get to their viewing site and stay put.

So there’s an eclipse coming, if you haven’t heard. We’re in the path of totality. In fact, we’re at the end of the zone where the darkness will last a full four minutes. It’s caused a bit of a hubbub.

• IU cancelled classes and is holding an event that features William Shatner performing spoken word poetry and a Janelle Monae concert. By Friday afternoon, they were giving away tickets to faculty and staff, so I wonder how well-attended the event will be.
• Authorities are warning about a massive influx of people, causing traffic jams and fuel shortages. Bloomington is expecting 30,000 people. Spring Mill State Park is expecting 11,000. It’s reportedly been a bit hectic at local grocery stores this week. Apparently there’s been some panic buying. I suspect this is due to the memory of shortages in the early days of the pandemic.
• This morning alone I saw four small aircraft flying into the (very small) local airport. I’ve noticed a lot of helicopters in the area today also.
• Local campgrounds are all booked. Hotels have been booked for a year or more. Local astronaut Charlie Walker will be addressing a crowd at the 4-H Fairgrounds.

We don’t plan to drive anywhere until Wednesday. I do plan to do some walking though, to see how bad the traffic gets on some of the main roads. It might get a little crazy around here for the next couple of days—and I’m not looking forward to that. But I am excited about the eclipse itself!

Nearly every time someone mentions Eclipse Day (which I always imagine with capital letters), I think of this from Neil Gaiman.

New staff member started yesterday. I think he’s going to be great.

You know what’s not great? The fact that I’m back in the office for a few weeks to train him. The commute. Merciful heavens, the commute. 90 minutes per day of the worst of humanity, which brings out the worst in me.