Some of you may have wondered what happened to the moon last night. Materialists claim that it was all a result of cosmic mechanics — a clear instance of bias, typical of the BBC. But last night, out on Hadstock Airfield, I saw the real reason. It was the cloud rabbit nibbling at the moon which made it disappear. It took a long time, but then the moon is a lot to eat, even for a very large rabbit. But it is a shy beast, and has hidden below the fold to digest until the next eclipse.
What interests me is that one reacts exactly as a fish would do: it is the appearance of an “eye” at the front which makes the illusion. That in itself was such a fleeting thing that I did not notice it until I was processing the picture.
It’s a very fine cloud rabbit, and doubtless capable of eating – albeit slowly – a moon before midnight. And I do like it, even if its ears remind me of the space centipede that eats astronauts.
I was in the depths of the Fens yesterday, enjoying a gin-clear night with my father and a telescope. Had a superb view of the eclipse, which I watched in the virtual company of Louise (up in Edinburgh, observing from the Meadows), and various others who texted, IM’d and phoned me during the course. I can exclusively reveal that in south-west Sweden the clouds rolled over at the very moment the eclipse began, while Guildford enjoyed good seeing.
At totality, the moon appeared a convincing red – the colour of all the sunsets and dawns around the world, being the reds of the sunlight refracted through the terminator. Through the telescope, though, the colour was much more muted and grey. The best bit was when a crater right on the top had its peaks in light; the second best bit was when the moon was three-quarters in shadow, hanging next to a star also visible through the scope, and the scene took on an imposing three-dimensionality far more breathtaking than any picture I’ve ever seen.
Damn fine.
R