No matter where you landed in Maine Monday afternoon, April 8, 2024, the light shifted and dimmed, colors sprang from corners, and our perspective of the world was oddly altered, even if for 10-20 minutes. After all the storms and winter troubles, we were gifted with a rare cosmological event, and we knew it. 

Flocking outdoors, to rooftops, hillsides and mountaintops, or even just pausing for a few minutes to lay down the hammer or chainsaw, we saw it all. It was as if the dark bad-weather curtains had parted just for us to debut a splendid solar eclipse, filling our bones with awe.

For those of us trekking toward the path of totality, the traffic moved along at a clip. On the back roads of Waldo County, some with heavy feet on the pedal found themselves pulled over – law enforcement was out in force. On I-95 north of Bangor, there were strict warnings: Do not pull over to the side to watch the eclipse. The rest areas just before the Millinocket exits were crammed with cars, and sky gazers had set up lawn chairs overlooking the reach toward Katahdin.

If you missed the Millinocket exit because the lines off the highway were just way too long, you might have found another exit six or seven or eight miles up the road to Benedicta. There, the overflow, or the savvy, or just the plain lucky, found a welcoming town, where people parked quietly near the church or parish center and opened their chairs, set up tripods, or just wandered through the fields. Nobody shooed people off private property, and there was a lot of smiling and waving. Others lined the road in pickups loaded with lawn chairs, faces turned toward the sky.

If you were really lucky, a dirt road might take you up a hill where fields stretched in every direction, and to the west, an unparalleled view of Katahdin — Maine’s mighty mountain rising vigorously toward the sun.

Others somehow found the same spot — Maine plates, Connecticut, Mass. — it was like a tailgate party but without the booze and raucous noise. It was peaceful and welcoming, and the community of Benedicta had opened its arms to all who were there for one purpose: To witness a rare phenomenon particular to our very own universe.

Nature and the cosmos quietly drowned out voices, and as the sunned dimmed and the moon took hold, the world became unworldly and beautiful. What was left of the light reflected in new ways off of the grass or metal cars and distant mountains. We drew jackets around ourselves and looked up in awe.

Then, as if it were dawn, the snow on Katahdin brightened, and we cheered. The sun returned and it was good and warm. Like a perfect spring day.

That red dot on the lower right limb of the eclipsed sun? It is attributed to a solar prominence, an eruption of plasma from the sun, according to the Scientific American.