This afternoon, a total solar eclipse will cross the country, and those in the path of totality will be struck by the soul-rattling sight of the moon completely covering the sun. In Seattle, the moon will merely take a bite from the bottom of our star, if we can see it at all. But despite the persistent clouds, spring is here; the cherry blossoms have come and gone, and the season’s edible weeds are everywhere. I found lemon balm lining the alley beside my house and made a soothing tea, and a friend and I turned miner’s lettuce, chickweed, sorrel, purple dead-nettle, and dandelion greens into a bitter-but-delicious pesto. May your spring be full of such stubborn, wild surprises.
█ ██ ██ █ the ████ darkness made the Earth and the sky ██ █ ██ ██ in █ memories █ █ ███ ██. ██ I saw ██ █ ███ █ █ ███ █ ██ ██ the ███ light ██ █ ███ of the dead ██ ██ upon the living ██ █ █ █ ██ █ █ ██ on the hilltops of ███ █ ██ ██ █ eternity. ██ ██ ███ █ ██ █ ██ █ ██ ██ ██ █ ███ our living days ██ ██ ██ ██ █ had ████ ██ ██ █ circular ██ █ █ ██ █ ██ █ outline. Oh, █ ██ the ███ trees ████ the ground ██ the glaciers ██ ██ the valleys █ overlapped the towns. █ ██ ██ ██ ██ people on Earth ████ ██ █ █ ██ had forgotten ██ they had loved. The ██ ██ ███ █ ██ █ ██ █ ██ █ ██ ████ █ ███ █ lands they had loved in the light. They seemed to stand on darkened hilltops, looking down.
—Blackout poem of an excerpt from Annie Dillard’s “Total Eclipse”
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