I had been waiting at least 7 months for this eclipse. The weather played fickle all day, starting clear, clouding over, clearing up, and clouding over, back and forth, all day long. My emotions were a jumble. Clear skies gave me hope, while clouds dampened my spirits. As eclipse time drew nearer I was hopeful. I could see pale indigo patches in the darkening cloudy sky. But I also heard thunder rumbling in the distance.

I decided to drive to Waterrock Knob anyway, progressing through rhythmic rain, musing, "This is an act of faith. I know an eclipse is about to start up there." While proceeding along the Parkway, I was confronted with fog that became so thick that I debated whether or not I should even be up there. But visibility was so dreadful that I could not safely turn around. I decided the best place to turn around would be Waterrock Knob itself. At one dropped to first gear, inching along, guiding myself by the yellow lines in the middle of the road. At Waterrock Knob, I was forced to drive on the yellow parking lines, using them as guides in order stay on the pavement. Only one car was present. I started to continue right out, dreading the drive down the mountain in the same heavy fog. Some vague feeling led me to turn around and park the car. As I listened to the rain on the roof, two more vehicles arrived, only to continue on out. It looked hopeless for eclipse viewing with the steady rain and heavy fog.

I sulked to myself, "God, this stinks. You produce an eclipse, and then don't let us see it." I started to drive away, but I had packed a thermos of coffee, and I decided to at least drink a cup before facing the frightening foggy drive back home, where I would continue my pouting. As I poured the coffee, I suddenly realized that it was quiet. The rain had stopped falling on the roof of the car. But I still couldn't see anything outside through the fog. I drank a few sips of the delicious hot coffee and opened the car door to verify that it really had stopped raining. I discovered that the fog had also cleared, though the insides of my car windows were fogged up terribly. I grabbed a towel to wipe off the car windows and could not believe my eyes. A few stars were visible!

I wiped all the car windows, then continued to drink my coffee. And I jubilantly watched more and more stars appear. There were still clouds around the horizon on all sides, but it looked like God was clearing the stage for His performance. I spread plastic, laid a blanket over that, and settled in with a large pillow to watch the show. The clouds that had covered the moon became patchy, allowing brief glimpses of the bright orb, now in the penumbral eclipse state. It was obvious that the curtain was about to be drawn for the main performance.

When the curtain finally dropped, I tried to discern which side of the moon would first enter the earth's dark shadow. It soon became apparent that the bottom of earth's moon was entering the shadow. A small sliver of moon was no longer visible. That sliver grew into a curved shape that slowly but constantly grew in size, from the bottom up. As the moon itself became only a sliver of glowing white, more and more stars became visible until the heavens looked like an immense scattering of white cornmeal. I understood the Cherokee legend, describing a dog running across the sky dropping cornmeal from his mouth. I noticed that Scorpio's head was looking toward the moon, with its tail extending below the horizon.

By this time, the shadowed portion of the moon was generating a faint orange glow. All was silent except for the welcomed wind that had blown away the fog and clouds. An occasional vehicle arrived on the scene - the drivers quickly killed the engines and extinguished the lights. The last sliver of moon disappeared, to be replaced by a beautiful yellow glow on the top edge. The lower right edge darkened. Distant lightning flashed on opposite sides of the horizon, and I saw three bright meteors, one of which appeared to fall upward.

This was the longest period of totality of any lunar eclipse that I have viewed. For a full 53 minutes, the moon rested inside earth's deep shadow. The earth's atmosphere began to play a subtle role in the drama. Very thin clouds quickly obscured all but the brightest stars. But the sky still looked black, so it was not obvious that there were clouds overhead. Thin clouds covered the gently glowing moon, playing with the subtle light. Portions of the moon darkened, lightened, and darkened, on and on. For brief periods the moon disappeared altogether, only to reappear again when the thin cloud shifted. I felt hypnotized by the magic in the sky.

As the thin clouds shifted, I noticed that Scorpio had risen higher in the sky, along with the moon. Scorpio's stars were very distinct in the dark sky. After a time interval that felt unmeasurable, the glow on the surface of the moon began to shift from the top left to the left side. Thicker clouds were moving in, as the first full reflection of the sun's light again bounced off the moon. A small bright sliver of moon reappeared on the left side of its surface. Cloud cover added interest to the reappearance of the bright moon. Sometimes the moon was covered, but its brightness still showed through the clouds. When there was a break in the clouds, the moon appeared a little larger than it had during the previous cloud break. Also, when there were breaks in the clouds, the stars in Scorpio grew fainter and fainter as the moon grew brighter and brighter.

I savored the time when the earth's shadow slowly left the moon's surface. By this time, only three vehicles remained at Waterrock Knob, and all viewers respected each other's privacy. We had made the journey to watch the eclipse, not to socialize. The bright moon that we know increased in size, until the "man in the moon's" face reappeared. One cheek was defined by earth's shadow. I said silent prayers of gratitude as earth's shadow left the moon's surface completely, so grateful that the curtains of clouds had opened for some of us to enjoy nature's drama.