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