An Eclipse & A Pig

Science, along with chemistry, physics, biology, escapes me.

In school, I memorized definitions, drew perfect diagrams, and guessed well on multiple-choice tests. I never understood any of it the way I understand punctuation.

I reduced all the theories and equations to magic, to stories.

The same with an eclipse.

So we gathered on our porch in appropriate glasses to watch it. However, at one point, I stood up to stroll down our garden path. We’ve had a cold, even snowy spring, so this was the perfect, rare warm day to see our daffodils and tulips blooming bravely despite the frosty conditions.

When I reached Violet, our garden statue pig, I stood amazed. I’ve known her for twenty-five years and never witnessed a shadow on her head quite like this one. She was blessed by shadowy eclipse light.

But something else had happened.

Inches from her snout, a purple flower, that I hadn’t planted, blossomed just for her.

Yes, I understand an industrious squirrel dug it up from elsewhere and buried it beside her for a future dinner. So there’s the “science” of that act.

However, for me it meant more. The bulb near her was not a random planting but a deliberate placement by an animal who realized a lonely, lovely pig deserved her own reassuring token.

And in my mind, the eclipse wasn’t a circular passing resulting from math and angles.

It was a chance for skyward colleagues to meet for a chat, a few minutes to continue their friendship far beyond our reach.

A reassuring token for two friends.  

Skyward magic.