I saw the eclipse early this morning but not the red moon. I went on the deck, but the tree branches hid the moon so I watched from my upstairs bathroom window. Neither Fern nor Gracie who were sleeping on my bed cared. They just got more comfortable.

It was a rainy grey morning, but the sun is now struggling to come out and the day is brightening. The cold, though, will be back and the next few nights will be in the 30’s. I don’t care as long as it doesn’t snow.

The Boston Marathon bombings were one year ago today. All three local networks are dedicating their programming to the events of that day and the year since then. The most poignant event was earlier this morning when a wreath was hung at the site of the first bomb. Henry and Jane Richard hung the wreath. Their brother Martin died at that spot and Jane, who’s now an eight year old, lost her leg. A police honor guard now stands beside that wreath and another honor guard stands beside the other wreath at the site of the second bombing. Interviews of survivors show their amazing strength and resilience. Many lost limbs. One who did is dancing again. Many runners, some running for the first time, are dedicating next week’s marathon to raising funds in honor of the victims. What continues to amaze me about the event is the total lack of empty rhetoric. People never ranted for vengeance. They spoke of solace and hope, of being united and of putting their grief into something positive. Survivors spoke of their pain and proudly described their progress. I watched a woman who lost both legs run for the first time in rehab on her new running prosthetics. Next Monday just as they always have the runners will start from Hopkinton, they will struggle up heartbreak hill and almost sprint when the finish line comes into view. They will hear the cheering crowds who applaud and encourage every runner. This marathon is special in its sameness.