Tonight (Saturday) the moon will still be near Venus in the evening sky at dusk. Just look to the west starting around 6:30 p.m. Created with Stellarium.

Last night’s conjunction was just mesmerizing. There must be something deep in our consciousness that makes us pause and pay attention to celestial alignments. Have events in the sky somehow become woven into our evolution? I can imagine the light of another Venus-moon pairing reflecting off the eyes of Homo erectus, a precursor to our species, two million years ago. "What did it mean?" must have been the question in her mind. No doubt such a striking alignment would be noticed and interpreted as a sign of some sort. But what? In the 21st century, we gaze upward and see beauty, a personal message, the hand of our god, a new beginning. What you see is who you are.

Last night’s conjunction photographed by Jim Schaff of Hermantown who went through two camera batteries in the 20 below zero cold. Details: 4 second exp, 70mm F2.8, ISO 100 with a Rebel XTi camera.

Judging from e-mail I’ve received, a lot of people enjoyed the moon and Venus last night. You can see them again tonight in Act II, but the moon will have slid upward and away from the planet. The moon appears to move a little more than one outstretched fist per night eastward (to the left) in the sky. We’re not often aware of it, but the moon orbits around the Earth at over 2200 miles per hour. That’s what causes it to change position night to night against the background of the constellations. As it moves, the angle the moon makes in relation to the sun and Earth keeps changing too, and this is what causes it to increase in phase from crescent to half to full.

This photo was taken by William Wiethoff of Port Wing, Wisconsin. Wiethoff stayed up till dawn photographing galaxies and nebulas through his scope.

The moon also rotates just like the Earth, but much more slowly — only 10 miles per hour! If you could ride a bike on the moon and start your ride at say, sunrise, you’d have no problem pedaling fast enough to keep the sun from rising any higher in the sky. At the latitude of Duluth, the Earth rotates at about 750 miles per hour, which is very close to the speed of sound. Obviously you can’t outpedal the sun on our planet, but you could keep pace in a fast plane.

Comet Lulin and the star Regulus last night. Details: 200mm lens at f/2.8, 2-minute time exposure at ISO 800. Photo: Bob King

Last night was special too because Comet Lulin was close to the bright star Regulus, making it an easy target in binoculars. It’ll still be in the star’s neighborhood tonight if you haven’t checked it out yet. Just scroll down a couple days to find the map showing its track.

Thank you all for the nice photographs you sent! When more arrive, I’ll post them.

Lois Tibbetts, who is staying in Marathon, Florida on Vaca Key, sent this photo of the conjunction from a warmer part of the world.

Here are a few photos of the moon and Venus tonight. What a sight it was … and still is. I hope you’re able to get out and see the shiny duo. Just look over in the western sky. And if you happen to have a picture of the event, please e-mail it to me at: rking@duluthnews.com and we’ll put it up in a gallery.

The conjunction above the Cathedral of Our Lady of
the Rosary Church tonight at dusk. Details: 200mm lens
 at f/2.8, 1/15" exposure at ISO 800. Photos: Bob King

The moon and Venus in late twilight over Rice Lake Township. Details: 35mm lens at f/2.8, ISO 800 and 1/4" exposure.

A closer look at the two sky celebrities tonight. Notice how much detail you can see in the earthlit portion of the moon (see previous blog). Details: 280mm lens at f/4.5, 2-second-long time exposure at ISO 800.

What a sight the moon and Venus will be tonight (Friday). This view shows the two around 6:30 p.m. in the western sky about a half hour after sunset. The bright crescent is illuminated by the sun, while the full outline is lit by sunlight reflecting off the Earth. Earthshine, as it’s called, is bright enough that small telescope users can see craters and other features within the faint outline. Created with Stellarium.

Wow, was it cold last night! Tonight the red line on the thermometer will shorten even more, but I won’t care because Venus and the moon will make me forget. Go outside just after sunset, look up in the west and you’ll see these two luminaries pair up in one of the finest conjunctions ever. As the sky darkens, the scene will become even more beautiful.

A conjunction occurs when a planet or the moon pull up side by side together. Since the moon sprints across the sky compared to the planets’ much more leisurely pace, it routinely stops by each planet along the course of its month-long orbit around the Earth. The closer the moon is to a bright planet, the more arresting the scene is to the eye. Tonight might be so arresting, you’ll drive off the road. Try to avoid this. Venus and the moon will be up for a couple hours so you’ll have plenty of time to enjoy.

Not only that. Because you can see the moon in the daytime, you can use it to find Venus well before sunset. I guarantee it’ll be a cool sight to see the white planet in a blue sky. Try looking high up in the west-southwest sky around 4 to 5 o’clock. Once you find the crescent, look about two "crescent lengths" above and a bit to the right of the moon to find Venus. If five is too early, try again around sunset just before 6 p.m. It should be easy by then. If your boss questions why you’re craning your neck staring at the sky, explain that you’re looking for a sign that the bad economy will turn around.

Because Venus orbits between the Earth and sun, it has phases just like the moon. Back in January, it was half-full (left), while tonight, it’s a crescent similar to the photo at far right. Even a small, low power telescope will show Venus’ phase. Credit: Statis Kalyvas

Catch Venus while you can. It will soon be heading back down toward the sun. By the end of next month, the planet will have deserted the evening sky for dawn’s fairer pastures. More on why this happens when March arrives this weekend.

In honor of Venus, I humbly offer you one of my favorite Venus tunes, written and performed by Don VanVliet (Captain Beefheart).

 
Stripes of clouds mingle with stars in last night’s sky. Photo: Bob King

The other day, one of the students in my community education astronomy class asked why the moon is called "new" at new moon. Obvious questions that few people think to ask are my favorites. New moon generally refers to the first appearance of the crescent moon in the evening sky. The fresh appearance of the moon marks a new round of visibility during the evening hours, hence the term new.

Venus (above) and the thin crescent moon will vie for our attention tonight (Thursday) in the west a half hour after sundown. Created with Stellarium.

The astronomical definition of a new moon is slightly different. New moon occurs when the moon is in conjunction with the sun and lost in its glare. For at least one day every month, we can’t see the moon for that reason. Immediately after new moon, the newly minted crescent becomes visible at dusk. This first crescent has traditionally marked the beginning of the month in calendars used by Muslims, Hindis and Buddhists — new month, new moon.

I tried to find the wire-thin crescent yesterday evening but light cloud, bright twilight and hills thwarted my efforts. Tonight the moon will be a beautiful sight low in the west below Venus about a half hour after sunset. You should see it with ease if the weather cooperates.

This map will help you find the comet over the coming week. Start with the Big Dipper and work your way to the "Backwards Question Mark" pattern of stars in Leo. The Bowl of the Dipper and the Question Mark are about three outstretched fists apart. Both Saturn and Regulus are bright and easy to spot. Created with Stellarium.

Comet Lulin continues its journey upward through Leo the Lion. It’s now well-placed for binocular and telescope viewing around 9 o’clock and later. Tomorrow night will be the easiest time to see it because of the comet’s proximity to the bright star Regulus. Aim your binoculars at Regulus and you’ll see Lulin above and to the right of the star.

Comet Lulin last night around 11 p.m. The dust tail shows up very well, but because the geometry between Earth and the comet has changed, the blue gas tail is now mostly hiding behind the comet. Details: 200mm lens at f/3.2, 2-minute time exposure at ISO 800. Photo: Bob King

By early March, the moon will start to brighten up the sky, making the comet harder to see. Even though Lulin is now receding from Earth, it’s still plainly visible in binoculars. Look for a bright fuzzy patch. Dark skies will show its eastward-pointing tail, which reminds me of searchlight beacon. Last night, I could still see the comet with the naked eye as smudgy spot. It helps that it’s much higher in the sky than a week ago. The air is thinner the higher you look, and light pollution is less too, making for a brighter view. Enjoy the night!

Stars and airglow contribute enough light to a "pitch black" sky to easily see your hand as well as find your way around at night. Illustration: Bob King, photo from the Hubble Space Telescope.

The night sky’s aglow with more than comet tails. Some of you have been lucky enough to experience truly dark skies without any city lights in sight. The best places, and I’ve only been to a few of them, are a full 360 degrees of darkness, unblemished by the glow of distant towns. Even under these circumstances, you can always see your hand when it’s held up to the sky. Why is that?

Stars contribute about half of the light at night. The rest comes from a phenomenon called airglow. Yes, the air actually glows all night long. During the day, energetic ultraviolet light from the sun breaks apart molecules of oxygen and nitrogen, and jiggles around the electrons in sodium atoms in our upper atmosphere. At night the excited molecules "calm down" and recombine, emitting red and green light in the process.

Streaks of glowing air, caused by light emitted from molecules in Earth’s upper atmosphere, stripe the sky near the horizon. Credit: Space Physics Research Group, Univ. of California, Berkeley. Please click here to see a spectacular all-sky airglow photo.

Combine airglow and starlight and throw in some snowcover, and you’ve got enough light, even in Earth’s darkest places, to recognize a face or find your way along a road. Cosmic rays also contribute a small fraction of light to the sky. These are subatomic particles careening around the galaxy like kamikazes, ready to zap the atmosphere of any planet that gets in their way. When they strike, they excite atoms and molecules just like the sun’s rays. As the electrons and atoms fall back into place, they release particles of light called photons that contribute to the nighttime illumination.

Although airglow is colorful, it’s far to faint to stimulate our eye’s color receptors, so it looks like faint white streaks and glows. As with so many dim things in the sky, only long exposure photography makes the colors pop.

Airglow is present everywhere on Earth, but can only be seen from very dark places, where it can’t be confused with man-made sources. If you live where darkness rules, allow your eyes a good 20 minutes to "dark adapt", and then scan about one to two outstretched fists above and all around the horizon. Does the sky look a little paler there? If so, it’s likely the glow of busy molecules reuniting 60-80 miles over your head.

Green and red airglow across the constellation Orion (three Belt stars at center right) photographed by space shuttle astronaut Don Pettit from orbit. Credit: NASA

Several times on otherwise cloudless nights, I’ve seen airglow overhead. At first I thought the very faint stripes and streaks I saw were clouds, but once I learned about airglow, I realized what I was really seeing. The aurora also involves excited atoms and molecules emitting light, but there’s so much more energy involved, a good display can be seen right from town.

The green airglow light shows up beautifully from orbit in this time exposure photograph. The blurred lights in the foreground are cities. Credit: NASA

Astronauts get the best view of all of the phenomenon. As they peer out the windows of the International Space Station and space shuttle, the glow reveals itself as a thin green band enveloping the Earth. In a wonderful coincidence of nature, the color of light emitted by excited oxygen is the same as the plants that produce it in the first place: green

Another view of airglow and the Northern Lights taken from aboard the space shuttle. Credit: NASA

This spectacular image of Comet Lulin was made on Sunday, Feb. 22. It’s a series of 12 4-minute time exposures layered into one photograph. The big green glow at center is called the coma, and it’s the easiest part to see in binoculars. The dust tail points to the left and gas tail to the right. Credit: Phil Jones

Sammy got her rabbit and I my comet last night. Well, sort of. It’s rare that my dog catches a rabbit but when she does, the rabbit is toast. There was the chase, a short squeal and the triumphant march back to the road with a rabbit in her chops. She trotted home quickly ahead of me to hide it, while I dawdled, peering at the sky and hoping for one of several small holes to drift over Saturn and Comet Lulin.

Back home, I quietly took her trophy hare, bagged it and put it in the trash. Pangs of guilt but I didn’t want to my daughters to wake up to blood and guts in the driveway. Just then a small hole passed by Saturn. I grabbed the binoculars and got a partly cloudy view of the comet in the same field of view. The hole slowly departed and clouds closed in again. I looked at the dog, she looked at me. We had our night out and tasted success … but oh so briefly.

Comet Lulin is at opposition to the sun on Thursday, meaning it’s literally opposite the sun in the sky, rising when the sun sets and visible all night long. Those with binoculars and telescopes can watch the gas tail (the one on the comet’s right or west side) shrink as the big, blobby coma covers it up from our perspective over the next few nights. Meanwhile the dust tail (left side) will lengthen in the coming weeks.

A few people have told me they’ve heard radio and TV reports about Comet Lulin that implied you could just walk outside to find it blazing in the sky. In you’ve heard this and have just chanced on this blog for the first time, be aware that Comet Lulin is only faintly visible to the naked eye from a dark, rural sky. Even then, you need to know just where to look. Check the maps from two days ago if you’re having trouble finding it, and be sure to use binoculars.

The sky around 4 o’clock this afternoon (Tues.), showing the "invisible" new moon to the right of the sun. As the moon moves in its orbit around the Earth, it will appear to swing above the sun overnight and then move into tomorrow’s evening sky. Created with Stellarium.

This evening the moon is in new phase. You can see from the picture above that the new moon is almost in the same line of sight as the sun. That’s why you can’t see a new moon –the glare from the sky near the sun is too intense. But just wait. Late tonight, the moon will pass north of the sun and by tomorrow, make its first appearance in the evening sky. As it steps upward and away from the western horizon, expect a picturesque pairing with Venus this Friday. More on that special event later this week.

A partial halo appears around the sun early this morning joined by an airplane contrail. Photo: Bob King

"There are so many things to feel and see while you’re awake." — Captain Beefheart from Skeleton Makes Good 

A 1/4" thick plate of ice from Lake Superior this morning. The different ice densities make for an interesting pattern. Photo: Bob King

As you know, I like ice. And cold’s OK so long as the air is calm. Last night we had plenty of cold and stars to go along with it. What a feeling standing outside in that starry silence. Orion toddled off to the west while Arcturus flashed in the east. The air was so still, not a star twinkled. Not even twitchy Sirius. What a world, Earth — this planet just kicks.

Today we gotta lotta ice. I combed the shore of Lake Superior with my camera while a thin wind slowly nudged a massive sheet of ice up over the shoreline. As ice met immovable rock, it cracked into thousands of polygonal plates with a grinding, snapping, glass-breaking sound. Wonderful!

Tomorrow Comet Lulin will brush by Earth, so to speak, at a distance of just 38 million miles. Earth has a ringside seat for the show. The diagram shows the location of the comet and inner solar system planets at the time. Illustration: Bob King

Our solar system has ice to spare. Comets are a case in point, composed mostly of water ice with some dry ice (carbon dioxide), ammonia and a few other exotics to liven up the mix. Comet Lulin was again visible with the naked eye last night from a dark sky site. I hope you got to see it. Saturn was most helpful in pointing the way to the comet. Tonight’s lineup is even better, when Lulin will lie just a finger to Saturn’s right. Aim your binoculars at Saturn and the comet should be in the same field of view. See yesterday’s maps for details.

Comet Lulin photographed last night through an 8-inch telescope. The dust tail sticks out to the right. A couple streamers in the gas tail are visible at upper left. Credit: William Wiethoff.

Tomorrow (Tuesday) Comet Lulin passes closest to Earth and, baring any unexpected outbursts, will be as bright as it gets this year. After it passes by, our cometary companion will still be at our side throughout winter into spring, slowly fading while rising ever higher in the sky.

Because of the fragile nature of a comet’s crust, surprises from Lulin are not out of the question. Currently there are two comets that are normally too faint to see in amateur telescopes, but they’re both "in outburst" because cracks in their crusts have exposed fresh ice to the burning eye of the sun. The ice vaporizes rapidly, carrying with it dust from inside the comet. Sunlight reflecting off the new material causes a sudden brightening. Voila! The comet reappears.

In the "wish I could be there" category, there’s a quadruple transit tomorrow of Saturn’s moons. Titan, Dione, Enceladus and Mimas will pass in front of the planet and cast shadows on its cloudtops. This multiple transit is rare event but sadly, only visible far to our west in Pacific Rim locations. Saturn will be near setting at that time for skywatchers in the Midwest. Transits of Saturn’s moons happen only every 14 to 15 years when the rings are nearly edgewise to us. Then the moons pass directly over the disk from our point of view on Earth.

You can enjoy the excellent animation created by astrophotographer Christopher Go (at right) for now, and I’ll post the Hubble Space Telescope images as soon as they’re available.

Lovely photo of Comet Lulin last night nearing the
planet Saturn. The dust tail is to the left; gas tail
to the right. Credit: Rolando Ligustri

I thought you’d enjoy this brief but fascinating video made by the Japanese Kaguya spacecraft currently orbiting the moon. On February 10, the HDTV camera aboard the craft recorded an eclipse of the sun by the Earth.
 
As you watch the video, you’ll see the thin outline of the silhouetted sun slowly come into view as it rises above the shadowed lunar landscape. Just as the entire ring of sun is revealed, a brilliant flash on the right side signals the end of the eclipse, as the Earth begins to slide away from the sun. Eclipses of the sun by Earth aren’t a surprise — you’d expect them from the moon’s perspective — but this is the first one ever seen or recorded by humans.

To find Comet Lulin tonight for yourself, first navigate to Leo the Lion using the Big Dipper. This map shows the sky around 10 o’clock. Created with Stellarium.

So did you get up at 6:30 this morning to watch the moon and planets conjunction? I certainly wanted to but after staying up until 12:30 with Comet Lulin, I needed sleep. The comet was higher and brighter than ever. From a dark sky, it wasn’t hard to see with the naked eye. A couple days ago, I’d hoped it would sprout a second tail and Lulin didn’t disappoint. The main dust tail was easy to see in binoculars, while the fainter gas tail stuck out to the right (west) of the comet’s head. Comets typically show two tails when they’re relatively near the sun. The dust tail is made of just that — dust boiled off the comet’s nucleus or core. Radiation from the sun actually pushes the dust away from the core to form a tail.
 

Once you know where Leo and Saturn are, you can use binoculars to aim just below the planet to spot the comet. If you’re in the city, Lulin will look like a dim smudge. Suburban and country skies will show a bright cloud with a brighter center and the dust tail pointing to the left and below the comet. Created with Stellarium.

The gas or ion tail, made of things like carbon monoxide, ammonia and water, becomes electrically charged by sunlight and glows blue. Because it’s electrified, it gets pushed around and molded by the stream of electrical particles blowing from the sun’s atmosphere called the solar wind. Dust tails are generally well-behaved, but gas tails can change shape hourly depending on the speed and direction of the the solar wind.

This photo from last night shows Comet Lulin’s dust tail (left) and gas tail, faintly seen to the right of the comet’s head. Lulin will be very easy to spot tonight (Sunday) by using bright Saturn as your guide. Details: 200mm lens at f/2.8, ISO 400 and 2-minute time exposure. Photo: Bob King/Duluth News Tribune

You might recall that last week, Comet Lulin’s ion tail snapped off last week and then re-grew. An ardent group of comet observers worldwide has been tracking Lulin every clear night and compiling multiple images into animations. The animation shown here gives you a great idea of how Comet Lulin’s gas tail is ever morphing. It was created by Gustavo Muler from images made last night. The file is large so allow a couple minutes for it to load.

Remember the asteroid 2008 TC3? It was discovered on October 6, 2008, only 20 hours before it plunged to Earth as a fireball over the Sudanese desert. The tiny asteroid was estimated to be about 15-20 feet across and predicted to completely burn up in atmosphere over Sudan. Now students from the University of Khartoum, working with detailed NASA data, have found fragments of it. Read more here and see a picture of the students and their find here (this link is a large pdf file. The pictures are near the end of the document.)

Speaking of fragments, the number of fragments cataloged from the collision of the Iridium and Cosmos satellites now stands at 212. That’s 144 pieces of Cosmos and 68 of the Iridium. These are the ones that are currently being tracked but there are no doubt many more. So far, none that we know of have come down.

Many years ago, I lived and worked in central Illinois after graduating from college. There, the horizon was as common a commodity as corn and soybeans. In little towns like Arcola and Tolono, the landscape was checkerboard flat. I still miss that open space now and again since moving to the land of hills and trees.

A delightful conjunction of the moon and three planets awaits skywatchers early tomorrow (Sunday) morning. Created with Stellarium.

Every so often, I’ll make the 3-mile drive down to Lake Superior to watch something special at dawn. Some events require a completely open horizon for visibility, free of buildings and trees. Among its many charms, the lake offers Duluthians a healthy heaping of horizon. Tomorrow morning, that’ll come in handy because the crescent moon will lead a dawn parade of planets just a few "fingers" above that magical line where lake meets sky.

The map shows the sky just a half hour before sunrise. The moon and Jupiter should be easy to see in the brightening sky while Mercury will take a little more effort. As for Mars, only a cockeyed optimist would hope to spot its dim visage. The easiest way to see them all is with a pair of binoculars. Aim them at the moon and slowly sweep to the left to find each planet in turn.

By coincidence, at about the same time (beginning 6:32 a.m.), the International Space Station (ISS) will make a pass across the northern sky. It will rise up out of the west, glide under the Bowl of the Big Dipper and eventually disappear in the northeast. Here are a few more passes in the coming mornings. The ISS will travel from west-northwest to northeast across the northern sky for all passes.

* Monday morning Feb. 23: starting 5:26 a.m.
* Tues., Feb. 24 at 5:53 a.m.
* Weds., Feb. 25 at 6:20 a.m.
* Thurs., Feb. 26 at 5:14 a.m.
* Fri., Feb. 27 at 5:40 a.m.
* Sat., Feb. 28 at 6:07 a.m.

A frozen mud puddle with an icy crescent moon. Credit: Andrew Kirk

The crescent moon at dawn brings to mind a fascinating picture taken earlier this week by Andrew Kirk of Bishop, California. He writes: "I saw this while running on Feb. 18. The network of cracks in the ice is unprecedented in my experience. The ice is frozen in a moon shape with billows of ice instead of billowing clouds." Very cool photo!

The coma and bright nuclear region of Comet Lulin taken with a 1200mm lens and 4-minute-long time exposure on Thursday morning. During the exposure time, Will tracked the comet, which moved at a different rate from the stars. That’s why the stars show as trails instead of points. Credit: William Wiethoff

Will Wiethoff of Port Wing, Wisconsin sent this picture of Comet Lulin he took two nights ago. Unlike the recent ones in this blog, his picture is a close up of the comet’s head or coma. Inside you can see a bright, denser cloud of gas, within which hides the comet’s nucleus.

The coma is now several times as big as the planet Jupiter but contains very little actual material. It’s like clapping together two old chalkboard erasers — they create an impressive cloud of dust made of next to nothing. The hidden nucleus is a solid, irregular chunk of ice mixed with rock and dust some several miles across. No one’s ever seen a comet nucleus from the ground. The only way to spot something that small and so deeply enshrouded in dust is to send a spacecraft straight into the comet’s heart. I’d be the first to buy a ticket for that ride.

The bright cluster M41 is located directly south of Sirius, the brightest star in the sky. Even in this 1x (unmagnified) view, you can seen individual stars in it. Photo: Bob King

Since you’re outside looking for Comet Lulin these nights, why not warm up your binoculars with another of winter’s bright star clusters? This one comes to us from the famous Messier catalog, compiled by ace 18th century comet hunter Charles Messier (MESS-ee-ay). 110 clusters, nebulas and galaxies grace his catalog, not because he was thrilled to observe them, but because they so resembled his beloved fuzzy comets, he never wanted to be misled again into thinking one was a comet.

Sirius is easy to find using the Belt stars of Orion. Look 
between 7-10 p.m. to find it. Created with Stellarium.

His 41st entry is just "three fingers" directly below Sirius, the brightest star in the Great Dog. Sirius is easy to find by drawing a line through Orion’s three Belt stars toward the south. M41 contains about 100 stars at a distance of 2,300 light years. It was discovered earlier by another observer, but Messier made his own independent discovery and entered it in his catalog on January 16, 1765.

This poster shows all the objects in Messier’s catalog. For a much larger image with numbers and additional information, click here.

Using 10×50 binoculars, I found M41 easily even through Duluth’s light pollution. It’s a very nice jangle of stars, a little misty and sparkly, about the size of the full moon. Some clusters are located in rich areas of the Milky Way and are hard to separate from the skein of background stars. M41 suffers no competition and stands out clearly.

A time-exposure of M41 through the telescope. Credit: NOAO/Aura/NSF

A telescope will show more stars in the cluster, including several colorful orange ones, but it spreads it out too much for my taste. Sometimes the very lowest powers, in the 10x to 30x range, give the best views. A good example is the Seven Sisters Cluster or the Pleiades. People will often ask to see it in a telescope, but unless you have a low power, wide-field instrument, magnification adds too much empty space between the stars, lessening the cluster’s visual impact. Binoculars are still my instrument of choice for this one.

Comet Lulin sports a delicate eastward-pointing tail in this photo taken last night around 11:30 p.m. Details: 200mm lens at f/2.8, ISO 800 and 1 1/2 minute time exposure on a motorized mount. The green color is caused by sunlight energizing molecules of cyanogen gas (yes, related to cyanide!) vaporizing from the icy core of the comet. The dusty tail glows by reflected sunlight. Photo: Bob King

Last night, Comet Lulin was hanging pretty in Virgo. It’s still a bit low, unless you’re jazzed enough to stay up late, but that situation will change next week when it sidles up next to Saturn. Only one tail was seen in my 10×50 binoculars, but I hold out hope that the second tail will thicken and brighten soon.