
The eclipse trip, and the bread that came with it
A hillside in northern Spain, 93% of the Sun covered, and a baguette bought that morning from a bakery that opened at six.
Bread at night, stars after

A hillside in northern Spain, 93% of the Sun covered, and a baguette bought that morning from a bakery that opened at six.

Forty minutes of driving to get two magnitudes of darkness, a thermos, a tray of focaccia and 61 meteors.

Full Moon, street lamp and a thin haze have cancelled the week, so here is a four-and-a-half-minute Milky Way time-lapse from Japan that I did not film.
When the kitchen is at 29 °C and the oven is unthinkable, a yoghurt flatbread with starter discard, cooked in a frying pan in four minutes a piece.

NASA's three-minute July sky guide, with my notes on which parts work from a European back garden with a street lamp and which ones need a car.
Mid-June, the sky never gets properly dark, the telescope stays in the cupboard, and two bright planets make the best of the twilight anyway.

The dough that takes twelve hours of nothing and twenty minutes of work. It happens to be exactly the shape of an observing session.
Ten weeks after starting a culture from rye flour and tap water, it finally made a loaf I would give to someone else. Notes on what changed.