Turn around, bright eye
At 1:51 a.m., barely awake, I went out in my back yard. The moon was bright and full, shining down over my house, bright enough to see the yard pretty clearly by. A friendly neighborhood cat came and yowled for my attention. I couldn't quite tell for sure, but it looked like the upper rim of the moon was just a little darker--around 11:00 if the moon were a clock face.
So I came inside (slightly more awake from the cool night air) and finished editing a story and sent it off to the author, and checked mail one last time for the night, and then went back out to the yard at about 2:30 a.m. The Earth's shadow more than half covered the moon; just a crescent remained visible. Not bright enough to see by, at least not in my yard. Neat.
Now I'm going to sleep, hoping to wake up in time for my 10 a.m. meeting. I'd like to stay up long enough to see totality, but it ain't gonna happen, not with my eyes closing of their own accord.
The entry title, of course, is from that 1983 hit song "Total Eclipse of the Moon." ("Your shadow's like a shadow on me part of the time...")
