A strong nor'wester buffeted the valley yesterday evening, and, as the light faded towards dusk, a momentary, wonderful colour suffused the overcast sky. (A second photograph a few seconds later proved too late to record this remarkable violet light — the kind of light T.S. Eliot must have had in mind when he mentioned it four times in The Waste Land.) With cloud like this, though, prospects for seeing the lunar eclipse seemed slim. Perhaps the cosmos had decided this moment had delivered my share of spectacle for the day.
At about the time the eclipse began, so did the rain. I kept working then turned my eyes and back upward from the desk and went to bed.
All content © 2015 Pete McGregor