I wasn't very hopeful about actually seeing the eclipse. Weather predictions were not too encouraging.
And I wanted to stay in Jefferson County, so I went to Nortonville, the northernmost town in the county. Because of a railroad line that no longer goes through the town, Nortonville streets run on diagonals. (Do people who grew up in such towns live all their adult lives with a skewed perception of geography?)
Although nothing official was planned, people began to gather at the little city park (about three acres in size, I should judge). I think there were even some family reunions, which included the driver of a commercial vehicle (I'll never tell what the logo was on the side of the truck, but obviously the driver was not at work). Rain fell intermittently, and even when it wasn't raining, clouds covered the sky.
The only establishment open was a farm supply business. The weather-worn sign on the Brass Lion said the doors would open at 4 PM. (What a money-making opportunity the lion-keeepers overlooked). Well, the bank was open, but it did not appear that the tellers were selling anything edible.
So I was sitting in my car, tending to my own knitting, when I became aware that the crowd noise which had come from the park shelterhouse to my south was now at the west behind me. The couple from the car next to me shifted their attention from gazing skyward at the clouds and slowly drifted westward.
As I got out of my car I could see people, from moms carrying newborns to older folks with canes, were clambering aboard a huge truck weighing platform. When I first looked, the glowing red neon sign read at something over 9,000 pounds. "Oh," I exclaimed, a couple more people get on it will go to over 10,000." Then I climbed aboard and the scales shot up to 13,034!
Short story -- we never saw the eclipse, but we had fun anyway. The City Clerk took a picture which was published next week in the county newspaper.