Almost everybody I know was thrilled with their solar eclipse experience. Me, not so much. I know it was really cool. I saw other people’s pictures.

OK, I admit it is my own fault that my experience was less than thrilling. I initially was all set to head for Atchison where there was more than two minutes of totality. And then, I didn’t move fast enough to secure eclipse viewing glasses for myself and the grandkids.

When the weather forecast said the region of totality closest to me was likely to be cloudy or even rainy at eclipse time, and the temperature forecast was for the high 90s, I decided against travel. I made pinhole projector viewers and camped out in Wichita to watch with the kiddos.

Maybe it was my faulty construction, but what we saw through the pinhole was a teeny-tiny sun with a not very visible bite out of it. So much for the “oooh and ahhh” of seeing the sun mostly disappear. It was still pretty cool, just not amazing.

The environment on the ground, however, was memorable. Even as we struggled to see what was happening to the sun, the corresponding change around us was far more visible.

The light changed to yellow twilight — the kind of mellow, pre-thunderstorm twilight that can’t really be described; it has to be experienced. The tree leaves shimmered on the trees and cast amazing moving shadows on the sidewalk.

I grabbed the camera to do the best I could at capturing that scene, wishing that I’d studied up a little more on using video mode. The kids jumped back as though the shadows on the ground had suddenly come to life. Nobody seemed terribly concerned anymore about what was happening with the sun above us.

The temperature dropped and the shadows deepened as Wichita reached its maximum shadow — a little over 80% of the sun. We adjusted the pinhole viewer and tried for another look. Our tiny sun was mostly gone for what seemed like just a second, then the skies started to brighten. The moving shadows were still on the sidewalk but their movement slowed down, and gradually they disappeared.

Then it was over, and we all went back inside out of the near 100-degree heat, which suddenly seemed hotter than it had been before it all started.

So, OK. I’m buying eclipse viewing glasses while they are on sale, and I’m stashing them for 2024, when the next total eclipse within my easy travel distance is set to bring me a memorable birthday. I might even save up for a camera filter. If I start planning now, I just might be organized by 2024.

In the meantime, those weird shadows really were fascinating, and my 10-year-old grandson has promised me that he will provide a full explanation of why that happens the next time he has a sleepover. He’s researching it now. And that’s probably the best thing that came out of this eclipse experience.