(photo courtesy of E.Z. Nieminen)
We wouldn't have known about the biggest eclipse of our lifetime if Robert, our Philippino neighbor (and property caretaker) hadn't rung our doorbell and told us to come out.
I was busy preparing for work ("H" is for hat... I was folding ten hats out of newspapers for the ten little two year olds of my morning class) and Wayne was adjusting his backpack for his daily walk up the hill to the seminary, where new international students have just arrived.
Youngest son was, of course, still sleeping. He's a teenager, and it's summertime.
So we woke up the kid, dropped what we were doing, and spent about half an hour taking turns looking at the sky through the welding mask that Robert had helpfully provided us.
After that it was pretty much a day as usual, but the cosmic perspective of the morning's skywatch lingered.
"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands... in the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun, which is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, like a champion rejoicing to run his course." -- from a Psalm of David (Psalm 19)