Reflections on the Tenth Week of Summer – Tracking the Solar Eclipse 

1:45 p.m.

    Fanny dancing in the Adirondack chair Monday morning, I grabbed a clipboard and purple pen to draw a chart for tracking the 82% solar eclipse at Wells Wood. My husband Spence glanced up from his computer and said, “I won’t leave for Cleveland until two-thirty.”

    After forty-nine years of marriage, I could translate his words. He’d stay through the first part of the eclipse in case my plans for photographing with a solar lens and recording watts generated by our solar cells hit a snag. Though he didn’t voice his frequent admonition, “Expectation is disappointment,” the thought reverberated through my head.

    “Terrific.” I put the clipboard on the table and dashed downstairs to sweep the basement before Pablo from Energy Independent Solutions and the electric inspector arrived at ten. After their inspection, we could use the power from our solar cells.

    Only Pablo arrived at ten. Young and shorter than me, he had a shadow goatee, wore a black polo shirt with a company logo, and carried a computer bag over his shoulder.

    “I’m glad you’re here today.” I shook his hand. “I’m looking forward to tracking the eclipse on the solar cell monitors.”

    Pablo’s getting-to-know-you smile faded. “I’ll be turning the system off after the inspection. You won’t get the new electric meter today. Without the new meter, the electric company would charge you for the energy you produce.”

    “But—”

    “It’s not the end of the world, Janet.” Spence put his hand on my shoulder. “Everything will be okay. You can still take photos.”

    I took a calming breath. “How much electricity would we send back during the three- hour eclipse?”

    Pablo pulled a folder from his computer case, found our contract, and studied a page. “Probably fifteen kilowatts. I’m not sure what you pay for each kilowatt.”

    “About fifteen cents,” Spence said.

    I did the mental math. Two dollars and twenty-five cents–a small price to pay for tracking the eclipse. “Teach me how to turn the system on and off.”

    While Pablo waited for the inspector, he taught me how to turn the system on and off inside the house and out. Then he showed me how to wrap my knuckles on the Sunny Boy inverter cover to activate the monitors and showed me what a profile of a system similar to ours would look like on the Sunny Portal website.

    At 12:50 I didn’t have to turn the system on. The inspector still hadn’t arrived, and Pablo just finished his tests. I fastened the solar filter to my zoom lens, set the pen beside the clipboard, and checked for clouds–only a few.

    My sister Anita in New Jersey sent an email. We have almost total clouds. Hope you have sun so you can see the eclipse.

    NASA TV is showing it pretty well.

    News said to take spaghetti strainer outside and look at the ground under it.

    I wrote back. We've got some clouds–not overcast. I'm about to go outside and take my first photo. Starting at 1:00, I'll be taking pictures every fifteen minutes. Oops. Clouds just covered the sun. We'll see. Hustling.

    When I hit send, Big Ben Chimes rang on the kitchen clock.

    “Yikes!” I set the computer down, grabbed my camera, and headed for the deck.

    Sleeping in the sunshine, our cat George sprawled across the doorway. I stepped over him and onto the deck.

    “Just relax,” Spence called. “The sun will still be there.”

2:45 p.m.

    I squinted into the view finder. Clouds streamed across the sun. I focused and, when the clouds cleared, clicked a half dozen photos. Hurrying, I stepped back over George on the way to the table where I exchanged the camera for the clipboard. I hustled down the basement stairs.

    “You don’t have to hurry,” Spence called after me.

    Pablo was standing by the plant table typing on his computer. He smiled at me.

    I wrapped my knuckles beside the Sunny Boy B monitor, which recorded watts coming from two of the five strings of solar cells. “I’m here for the first reading.”

    Pablo tapped his knuckles against Sunny Boy A which monitored the other three strings. “I’ll get this one ready for you.”

    The B screen glowed. Numbers of watts fluctuated rapidly. Clouds moving overhead? “Is it normal for the numbers to change so fast?”

    “Yes,” Pablo said. “You’ll get the average in your reports.”

    I scribbled the largest amount the monitor flashed.

    Pablo dictated “thirty-nine, sixteen” from monitor A. “Thanks.”

    Back upstairs, I exchanged the clipboard for the camera, removed the SD card, and shoved it into my computer. After a few mouse clicks, pictures of the sun appeared behind a cloud mist.

    “Oooooo.” I squirmed in the chair. “The solar filter works great.”

    Spence didn’t look up from his computer screen. “That’s nice, Dear.”

    I saved four of the pictures, deleted the images from the SD card, and returned it to the camera. Phew. I checked the clock. 1:10. I took a sip of tea, stepped over George to the deck, and faced in the direction of the sun.

   Lifting the camera, I peered through the lens. All black. I moved the camera in circles like swirling a computer mouse in search of a lost cursor. Total black. The sun had to be up there. I made larger and larger camera circles in the darkness. No glimpse of light.

    Sheesh.

    I glanced around the side of the camera for a millisecond and squinted to see if I was pointing in the right direction. Looking through the lens again, I circled the camera until the sun popped into view. In the area corresponding to the space between one and two on a clock face, a black bite, the size a baby would take from a medium pizza, diminished the sun. “Wow.”

    Spence chuckled in the great room.

    The kitchen clock chimed, and I snapped pictures.

    Down in the basement, I recorded watts on my clipboard and told Pablo, “You ought to come look through my camera. It’s really cool.”

    “I’m just catching up on emails while I wait for the inspector.” He glanced from me to his computer. “I can do them later. This is a once in a life time event.” He followed me upstairs, over George, and outside.

    “Look through here.” I pointed to the viewfinder then handed the camera to him.

    Pablo held the camera toward the sun. “Amazing.”

    I called to Spence, “Come out and see this.”

    Spence walked out, took the camera, and squinted through the lens. “It’s all black.”

    “The sun’s hard to find,” I said. “Move the camera around until you catch some light.”

    Spence moved the camera then moved it some more. “You’re right. It’s hard to find.” He handed the camera to me. “Enjoy. I’ll look at your pictures.”

    Spence and Pablo went back to their computers. I downloaded photos.

    After the 1:30 recordings, I took our spaghetti strainer out to the deck and stared at the light streaming through the holes. “Cool.” I dashed back inside and emailed Anita: Spaghetti strainer works! The eclipse isn't that far along, but the holes have the same chunk taken out as the photos of the sun. EXCITING!

    She emailed back: Lucky you. I used the spaghetti strainer and got nothing. We don't have enough sun through the clouds to see anything. It's getting even darker so I think I am relying on your photos and the coverage from NASA.

    At 2:15, I stepped on the deck. The electric inspector slammed his car door and walked toward the house. I called to Spence. “The inspector’s coming. You take care of him.”

    “I’m on it,” Spence called back.

    I focused the camera.

    The clock chimed.

    Work boots thudded on the ramp behind me.

    “I’ll be with you in a minute,” I said clicking a photo. “I’m doing something important right now.”

    “Take your time,” an unfamiliar voice said.

3:45 p.m.

    I clicked more photos and ran downstairs for the numbers. “The inspector’s here,” I told Pablo and dashed back up to the deck.

    Interrupting Spence and the inspector’s conversation, I said, “Pablo’s on the way. Would you like to look through my camera at the eclipse?”

    The inspector took the camera, looked up and said, “Oh. Awesome.” Smiling he handed the camera back. “Awhile ago, I tried to take a picture of the sun holding my phone over my shoulder, but that didn’t work.”

    Pablo and the inspector disappeared into the basement.

    I repeated my routine when the clock chimed 2:30. “That was peak,” I told Spence. “I wonder where the crescent will be when the moon leaves.”

    Spence shut down his computer and packed his papers. “Be patient.”

    Pablo climbed the stairs. “The inspector left. You passed the inspection. Spencer needs to sign these forms for the electric company.”

    “Do you want to see the sun now? It’s just past peak.”

    Pablo set his clipboard on the table, took the camera, and peered at the sky. “Oh, my.” He gave me the camera. “Thanks for letting me watch. It was nice meeting you.” He gathered his gear and left.

    Spence gathered his gear, said “Be careful,” and headed off to volunteer in Cleveland.

    Anita emailed again. Did you see the meter come to a halt during the eclipse?

    I answered. The meter didn't come to a halt because there was still sun showing. It dipped way low though. The smaller inverter went from 3166 w at 1:15 to 483 w at 2:30.

    At 4:00, I photographed the full sun and rushed to the basement for recording watts one last time. I flipped off the breakers for the AC current then turned the wheels on the sides of the inverter boxes to shut off the DC current. Outside I pulled down the lever on the solar disconnect box. Clunk.

    As tired as if I’d swum a mile, I trudged inside and called Spence on the phone. “I’m done. I recorded all thirteen observations and didn’t get bored.”

    “Your enthusiasm was infectious,” he said. “You got the guys interested.”

    “I didn't infect you.”

    He chuckled. “I’m used to your enthusiasm.”

Click here to view all thirteen eclipse photos.

Tracking the Solar Eclipse

My daughter Ellen made this chart.

Time	Watts Inverter A	Watts Inverter B
1:00 p.m.	3916	2922
1:15 p.m.	4135	3166
1:30 p.m.	3380	2526
1:45 p.m.	2902	2192
2:00 p.m.	1991	1462
2:15 p.m.	1151	823
2:30 p.m.	700	483
2:45 p.m.	916	581
3:00 p.m.	1495	1012
3:15 p.m.	2039	1358
3:30 p.m.	2519	1597
3:45 p.m.	2591	1587
4:00 p.m.	2096	1370

Reflections on the Ninth Week of Summer – Solar Connection Saga

    At ten Monday morning, gravel crunched under tires and a truck beep, beep, beeped backing down the house driveway. I set my computer on the coffee table, jumped out of the Adirondack chair, and hustled outside to meet the electricians from Energy Independent Solutions (eis). They’d work in the basement. Not the best place for taking photos, but I could position the work light to catch them installing equipment connecting the solar panel array to the electric box.

    A hefty man stood in West Creek Road smoking a cigarette. A thirty-something, slender man, emerged from the back of the truck. The smoker walked down the driveway. Both wore blue pants, eis t-shirts, and tan baseball caps.

    “Good morning. I’m Janet.”

    Unlike the members of the solar panel crew, the slender man didn’t extend his hand. His mouth stayed straight-line closed.

    “Hi, I’m Spencer,” my husband said from behind me.

    The slender man looked into the back of the truck.

    The hefty man said, “I’m Bill, and he’s Zack.” Still no handshake.

    I gave them a tour including the coil of wires outside on the butt end of a log, the basement door, light switches, the bathroom complete with a worm factory in the shower stall, and the electric panel in the basement.

    Zack said, “The job should take two days.”

    “Great, then we’ll generate our own power.” I pumped my fist. Cloudy days hadn’t bothered me, but the sixty-six sunny days from contract signing to panel installation and the additional seventeen sunny days waiting for the electricians to arrive had tested my patience more than waiting for Santa ever did.

    “No,” Bill said with a sad smile. “We’ll be turning the electricity off after we test everything. Your electric meter doesn’t run backwards so the electric company would charge you for the electricity that your solar cells produce.”

    I lowered my hand. “That would be bad.”

    Bill adjusted his baseball cap. “The electric company will install a new meter when it does the inspection.”

    To be polite, I asked if I could take photos while they worked.

    Bill looked at Zack.

    Zack stared at me for an uncomfortable fifteen seconds. “No.” He glanced over at Bill, then looked back at me. “Considering what happened in the past, don’t take any pictures.”

    Since I had forty-five photos of the friendly solar panel crew stored on my computer, Zack’s answer surprised me.

    “Why?” Spence said. “What happened in the past?”

    “I’d rather not say,” Zack mumbled and turned away.

    Spence and I climbed to the great room. While I packed my swim gear and drove to Meadville for lap swim, my mind repeated Zack’s “No . . . I’d rather not say.”

    Had he seen my July post on Roof Walkers? Maybe he objected to the pictures or to quotes like Terry saying “I was watering a tree.”

    When I returned, the electricians sat in the truck.

    “Eating lunch in your truck?” I said when I passed the door.

    Zack stared straight ahead. “Yep,” the last word he’d say to me that day.

    But he yacked at Bill which strengthened my suspicion he didn’t want me quoting him.

    Their sounds drifted up the spiral stairs to the loft where I edited Spence’s NonProfit Quarterly article about Cultural Reconstruction in America. Between the soft, high eeeeeee and the loud, low brrzzzat of drills, Zack said, “I’m angry at that asshole co-worker that left the bench at the other place. If he didn’t, I could have sat on it and wired this all up. Now I have to stand.”

    Bill chuckled.

    An AM radio station played pop music, a metal tape measure rattled, the screen door banged, and gravel crunched under feet of men fetching supplies from the truck.

    “Oh, my god,” Zack shouted. “Who put this cover on?”

    Shhhhhhhhhhhhh.

    Zack ignored Bill’s caution. “I’m telling you, Superman put that cover on.”

    Maybe Zack’s ornery personality got him in trouble with customers.

    At 3:45 doors slammed, the truck engine rumbled, and gravel crunched under the tires.

    Assuming the men had finished for the day, I crept downstairs with my camera. Two Sunny Boy inverters, an electric meter reading 00000, an electric box, and a sixty by six by six inch rectangular prism for wires were mounted on a four by six foot sheet of plywood attached to the basement wall. I clicked photos.

    Despite Monday’s cool reception, I walked outside Tuesday morning when gravel crunched under tires and a backing truck beep, beep, beeped.

    A new man, shorter, thinner, and younger than Zack, stood at the back of the truck.

    “Good morning,” I said from the top of the porch steps. “I didn’t see you yesterday.”

    He smiled from ear to ear, walked up the steps, and reached out his hand. “I’m Ron.”

    On Deer Creek Road Bill smoked a cigarette.

    Zack came around the back of the truck. “We’ll work in the basement and a little outside today, on this side—”

    He pointed to the electric meter at the end of the house.

    “—and the other.” He raised and arced his hand as if pointing over the roof.”

    “Great. Let me know if you need anything.” I walked inside and climbed the loft stairs to sew mini friendship block designs into a infinity symbol shape for the center of a quilt.

    Sounds rose from the basement. A medium toned brrrrrrrrrrrr came from the drill boring through the cement wall. Men called back and forth from the basement to the end of the ramp outside, and wires rasped through the conduit until they reached a “tight spot.”

    Zack said, “I dreamed about this last night.”

    “We could use a right angle,” Ron said.

    “I’ve got that extension I bought for my drill,” Zack said. “The best twenty-six dollars I ever spent.”

    The three men mumbled until Zack spoke louder than the others. “I’m the oldest so that means I win. When I started this I was the youngest. Now, I’m oldest. That makes me feel old.”

    Rolling my eyes at Zack’s remarks, I whispered, “Glad I don’t have to work with him.” I concentrated on sewing one inch seams until I heard Bill say, “Are you okay?”

    Ron’s voice answered. “Yeah.”

    “I did that in front of an old woman once,” Zack said. “That was bad. She freaked.”

    Were injuries why Zack didn’t want photos?

    I grabbed my camera, tiptoed out the front door, and scampered into the north garden. Hustling to finish before the men came out for supplies, I clicked photos of the eis truck.

    Later in the afternoon, Bill knocked on the front door. He needed access to the modem and alerted me they’d turn the electricity off while they connected the solar panels to the electric box.

    After the blackout, the men connected the modem to the solar electric panel. “The wires are backwards,” Ron called downstairs from the great room.

    Zack shouted back. “That’s how I do it. It doesn’t matter how you do it as long as they’re all the same.”

    Ron recited a list of wire colors. “Okay. It’s right.”

    “See. It’s just fine,” Zack said. “Don’t ever doubt me again.”

    At 3:35 Bill knocked on the front door. “We’ve finished. The office will call to set up the final walk through and inspection with the electric company. They’re running about four days after we finish.”

    Only four days? Good news.

    “Would you do me a favor and take this poster back to the office?” I picked up neon green foam board, the same shade as the eis T-shirts. I had mounted four of my forty-five photos of the men installing the solar cells for the Cochranton Community Fair contest telling a story in pictures. “I won first prize at the fair for this. The office or one of the guys might like it.”

    The truck engine rumbled in the driveway.

    Bill took the poster, held it at arm’s length, and studied the pictures. “This is cool. I don’t know any of the guys. I haven’t worked at the company that long.”

    I pointed. “That’s Richard and Scott. There’s Wiley and—“

    “Oh, I recognize Terry.” Bill pointed to Terry on the deck hoisting a solar panel to Wiley on the roof. “I’ll take it to the office for you.”

    The truck engine revved.

    Bill reached for the doorknob. “It was nice meeting you.”

    Bill, with his polite, people skills, would make a much better supervisor than Zack.

    The next morning, Joe Morinville, the President of eis called. “The inspector from the electric company and Pablo from our company can come Monday at 10:00 a.m. Will that work for you?”

    “We’ll make it work,” I said. We’d get our solar energy on the day of the solar eclipse. Fitting.

    Joe’s confident professional voice said, “Fine. They’ll do the inspection then Pablo will stay to show you how everything works, and he’ll bring your final payment back to the office so have the money ready.” His tone changed to tentative. “How did everything go with the electricians?”

    Should I tell him Zack was prickly and Bill was cordial? Better not. “They were fine.”

    He let out a long breath.

    “But I’m curious about photos. The panel crew let me take photos. Zack said no considering what happened in the past. Was that something we did?”

    “No, you didn’t do anything,” Joe said. “I can’t violate the privacy of employees. Each employee has his own . . . personality. The installation crew are professionals. Zack is . . . is cautious. I saw the poster you sent to the office. People get excited and want to share their photos on social media. Then if OSHA or an insurance company sees a violation, like not wearing a hard hat, we get in trouble. I guess we should make a company policy about photos. After the inspection Monday, you can safely take as many photos as you want.”

    I thanked Joe and put the phone in its cradle. I’d wait five more days for solar power, but disregarding Joe and Zack’s reticence, I wouldn’t wait that long to share my photos.