The city worker carried on with his duties moments before the eclipse — the one that a continent had awaited enthusiastically. A dozen people and their dogs gathered in Ottawa’s Richelieu Park with sunglasses, eclipse glasses, and phones. The worker rode in on his tractor, singularly focused on his task at hand. One by one he removed the buckets from the maple trees, dumped the watery sap, piled the empties into his tractor and drove away. The passing of a season with i’s dotted and t’s crossed.
The sound of the tractor faded down the gravel path. In moments, nearly all light was gathered up. Dusk at half past three.
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