Wake up to Venus and the moon

Tomorrow (Weds.) morning and Thursday, the moon will pass to the right of Saturn and then Venus. This map shows the sky as you face southeast around 6 a.m. Created with Stellarium

Tomorrow (Weds.) morning and Thursday, the moon will pass to the right of Saturn and then Venus. This map shows the sky as you face southeast around 6 a.m. Maps created with Stellarium

The month of December will be the best one for seeing Venus in the dawn sky. And what better way to begin the new month than an excursion tomorrow morning to see the planet in the company of the crescent moon and Saturn. If you have a south or east facing window in your home, all you need do is look out around 6-6:30 a.m. tomorrow to take in the sight. Oh, you’ll need clear skies, too. These have been remarkably absent in the Upper Midwest the past two weeks. I hope the weather’s better by you.

Venus as viewed in a small telescope this week. Its crescent is a little thicker than the moon's -- 24% sunlit compared to the moon's 14% on Thursday.

If tomorrow doesn’t work out, Thursday will be as good or better, when an even thinner lunar crescent parks itself just to the right and below Venus. If you have 10x binoculars or a small telescope, you’ll notice that Venus is also a crescent, but currently appears 46 times smaller than the moon. That’s because it’s so much farther away – 36.5 million miles compared to the moon’s 230,000 miles. If we convert those distances to light time, which is the amount of time a beam of light, traveling at 186,000 miles per second, takes to reach your eye, we find that the moon is a scant 1.2 light seconds from Earth while Venus is 3.3 light minutes.

As you gaze at each one, consider that you’re seeing a slightly “fresher”, more current picture of the moon compared to “dated”, three-minute-old version of Venus. Given the great distances between objects in our solar system, let alone the stars, we see farther back in time depending on how far away into space we look. Have you seen Jupiter lately? Of course you have, but not the absolutely most current version! For that you’d have to be right up next to the planet. Instead we see Jupiter as it was 38 minutes ago. How crusty is the light from the Andromeda Galaxy, the farthest thing most of us can see with the naked eye? Try 2.5 million years.  Those are some mighty ancient photons!

Your sense of sight can be employed as a time machine anytime you look up at the sky. As long as you’re out with Venus and the moon, you might just as well watch the International Space Station as it arcs from west to east across the sky. It’s out all week long. Here are some times when it’s visible from the Duluth, Minn. region. For times for your town, click HERE and type in your zip code. All passes will be across the northern sky.

* Weds. morning Dec. 1 starting at 6:33 a.m.
* Thurs. Dec. 2 at 5:27 a.m. and then again at 6:59 a.m.
* Fri. Dec. 3 at 5:52 a.m.
* Sat. Dec. 4 at 6:17 a.m.
* Sun. Dec. 5 at 6:42 a.m.

Kickin’ around in the snow

The forest at Hawk Ridge in Duluth wore a cover of snow Sunday. Photo: Bob King

I took a great walk in the woods yesterday. Many trees were still blanketed with snow from our Thanksgiving Day storm. As I kicked through the fluffy white clods, I thought of Comet Hartley 2 and its carbon dioxide-propelled geysers shooting out chunks of snow into outer space. Were they soft and airy like the stuff rubbing against my boots? Whatever the texture, you probably couldn’t build a snowman with Hartley 2 snow. In the cold, near-zero pressure environment of outer space, it would hardly make “good packing”.

A beautiful scene! Comet Hartley 2 was caught by amateur astronomer Hap Griffin of Sumter, South Carolina between the star clusters M46 (left) and M47 in Puppis Saturday. Credit: Hap Griffin

This weekend the comet did a do-si-do between two very pretty binocular star clusters in the constellation of Puppis (PUP-is) the Stern located just east of the more familiar Canis Major the Greater Dog. We know Canis Major primarily through Sirius, the brightest star in the sky and one of the easiest to find. Shoot a line southward (to the left) of Orion’s Belt and you’ll hit Sirius straightaway. With the moon rising in the wee hours for the remainder of the week, you can see the two clusters – M46 and M47 – if you’re up and about at midnight or later. M47′s the brighter and visible to the naked eye from a dark sky location. It’s neighbor, M46, is about the same size but looks misty because it has far more fainter stars than bright ones. These side by side star clusters are two of the 110 objects in Charles Messier’s famous 18th century catalog of clusters, galaxies and nebulae – hence their “M” designations.

To find M46, M47 and Hartley 2, start with Orion's Belt and shoot down to Sirius. The clusters are about one fist to the left of Sirius and easily picked up in binoculars from outer suburbs and rural locales. The comet will be in the same binocular field of view as the clusters for the next few nights. Created with Stellarium

Comet Hartley 2 has been fading since earlier this fall and will require binoculars with an aperture or lens diameter of at least 50 mm to see. You can find your binocular’s aperture by looking on the barrel or near the focusing mechanism.  For example, 7×50 indicates a magnification of seven times and an aperture of 50 mm or about 2-inches. The comet is now around 7th magnitude and looks like a dimly glowing patch in binoculars. Telescopes will still show its bright center or nucleus blazing away inside the larger, fainter coma. I’ve included a finding chart belwo suitable for both binocular and telescope users.

This chart shows the comet tonight through December 9 as it travels south in Puppis near M46 and M47. Other star clusters in the neighborhood invite intrepid telescopic observer to expand their exploration of the region. Created with Chris Marriott's SkyMap software

Ten popular myths about astronomy

Photo of the Great Wall from orbit taken with a 180mm telephoto lens. Red arrows point to visible sections of the Wall. Credit: NASA

Myth #1: You can see the Great Wall of China from the moon and /or Earth orbit. To discern a particular feature on the Earth while standing on the moon using only your naked eye, it has to be around 70 miles across. According to Apollo 12 astronaut Alan Bean, who’s actually been there, “The only thing you can see from the Moon is a beautiful sphere, mostly white, some blue and patches of yellow, and every once in a while some green vegetation. No man-made object is visible at this scale.” The Wall may be 5,500 miles long but it only spans 30 feet. Even from the International Space Station, which orbits about 220 miles above the Earth, there have been no sightings of the Wall. Under the best lighting conditions, it might be visible with the unaided eye., but astronauts have taken pictures of part of using telephoto lenses, as in the image above.

Full moon - innocent party or culprit?

Myth #2: Birth and crime rates increase at full moon. Studies have shown no correlation, yet this myth is embedded in our culture. This one’s interesting because it’s been my experience that most people aren’t generally aware of the moon’s phase except for full moon, and once in a while, the evening crescent. The phrase “must be a full moon” was probably coined long ago, when a crime was committed or something unusual happened during the time of full moon – which to the casual observer spans some three days. The full moon is exceptionally bright and compelling, making people more likely to notice and associate it with crimes, births and bizarre behavior. These things happen just as often during a waning crescent moon, but who notices that? Even if the origin of the “must be a full moon” comment goes back to a true incident, once the expression got out there, it was repeated and handed down until today it’s what you say when no other explanation immediately presents itself.

The farside of the moon is saturated with craters compared to the nearside. Credit: NASA

Myth #3: The moon has a dark side where the sun never shines. Nope, it gets lit by the sun just like the side that always faces us. Only at full moon, when the near side of the moon is fully sunlit, is the entire back side of the moon truly dark. That’s because it faces away from the sun at that time. Just like the Earth, half the moon’s always in sunlight and half’s in shadow. When you see a first quarter moon, the right side or right half of the moon is in sunlight. That half includes the portion of the hemisphere we see from Earth plus a portion of the lunar farside we can’t see, because we can’t stretch our necks out 240,000 miles and peer around it. An astronaut orbiting the moon at that time would have no problem seeing the remainder of the farside sunlit hemisphere. When the moon is full, the nearside is the sunlit half, the farside the shadowed half. And when the moon’s an evening crescent, most of the hemisphere facing us is in the dark (except the crescent of course) while 3/4 of the farside basks in sunlight.

Myth #4: The seasons are caused by Earth’s changing distance from the sun. The seasons are caused by the 23.5 degree tilt of the Earth’s axis with respect to the plane of its orbit. That means that in summer, the Earth’s north polar axis is tipped toward the sun, causing it to swing high in the sky, giving northern hemisphere residents longer days and more direct solar rays. During winter, the pole is tipped away from the sun, causing the sun to swing low, days to shorten and solar energy to be less intense. While our planet is about 3 % closer to the sun in January than in July, that’s not enough to make a dent in winter’s cold or summer’s heat.

The colors of the Orion Nebula as they appear in a large amateur telescope

Myth #5: Objects in a telescope resemble their photographs. Pictures of galaxies and nebulas you see online, in magazines, and dare I say, in this blog, might lead you to believe that’s how they look in a telescope … or at least a really big telescope, right? The truth is that most deep sky objects are simply too faint and tenuous to excite our eyes color receptors. Most astronomical objects – outside of colorful planets like Mars, Jupiter and Saturn – appear gray. There are a few exceptions:  the Orion Nebula is pale green in a small telescope and a mix of subtle pinks and greens in larger amateur scopes. Planetary nebulas have pretty blue and green tints, too. And we can’t forget the stars, the colors of which are more vivid then when seen with the naked eye. But these hues are subtle, never garish as the photos might have us believe. The same holds true when seeing details of galaxies and nebulas through a telescope. Most are faint, feathery and misty compared to the crisp edges and sharp outlines seen in photography.

Our eyes see everything in real time while cameras allow light to accumulate. What might be faint at a glance becomes bold and obvious during a time exposure. Subtle colors deepen and brighten. By the way, getting closer to a nebula won’t make it appear any more colorful, just larger. Those technicolor scenes from sci-fi movies and depicted in artist’s views of deep sky objects stoke our imaginations but exaggerate colors just like the photographs.

Magnification's not all it's cracked up to be. Credit: UNAWE

Myth #6: Magnification is an important factor to consider when buying a telescope. You can magnify anything up to a 1000 power or higher no matter the telescope. All you need the right eyepiece, which is the lens you look through after you sighted the object of interest in your scope.”High power”has its problems. First, your field of view is constricted to something like looking through a soda straw. High magnification also spreads the light out from a planet or galaxy, making the object appear dimmer. It’s hard to see much detail in dim objects. Finally, atmospheric turbulence on most nights of the year limits the usable magnification to around 150x. Even at that, stars often look swollen and planets begin to soften up. Much more important when buying a telescope is the diameter of its main mirror or lens. That’s what gathers the light, and since many objects in the sky are quite faint, a bigger mirror means brighter, more detailed views.

Weightless astronaut aboard one of the space shuttles

Myth #7: There’s no gravity in outer space. Boy, there sure better be otherwise every manmade satellite orbiting the Earth would suddenly fly off into space. The moon would make a beeline out of here and the Earth would sever it bound with the sun and fly off to parts unknown. This myth arose because we see astronauts floating weightless inside and outside the space station and assume it’s because they don’t feel the gravity that holds the rest of us down. The reason they float is because they’re in a constant state of free fall as they orbit the Earth. While they may be traveling forward at 17,500 mph, the astronauts and their vessel are also falling to Earth. They remain in orbit and never risk hitting the ground, because they’re moving fast enough to swing around the curve of the Earth as they fall. Imagine you’re in an elevator. If it fell fast enough, you’d soon float up from the floor. You’d eventually hit bottom with disastrous consequences, but the astronauts don’t because their forward speed carries them around the Earth.

The Apollo 11 landing site photographed by the LRO. It shows the descent stage, TV camera and science experiments used or left by the astronauts. Credit: NASA

Myth #8: The Apollo moon landings were faked. Oh, pul-eez! Do we have to go there? The recent photos taken by the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter of the landing platforms, astronauts’ tracks and science experiments left on the moon’s surface by the Apollo crews will hopefully be the final blow to this goofball idea. Consider also the 842 lbs. of rocks returned from the missions and shared with researchers around the planet. Or how about the thousands of people involved in the program who’d all have to be “in on the deal” and keep mum all these years. Then there’s the Russians who tracked every one of the Apollo missions. If you’re still in doubt, please check out THIS SITE. Wikipedia also has a nice page on third-party evidence of the moon landings.

An illustration of a supernova or exploding star. A big if silent bang. Credit: NASA

Myth #9: You can hear sounds in space. We’re familiar with sounds of passing space ships, weapons’ blasts and things blowing up from the movies, but because space is virtually empty of particles, there’s no medium in which it can travel. All those explosions happen in silence. And don’t expect to hear the rumble of that anti-matter drive as the Enterprise glides past. It’s possible that in a nebula, which is composed of a thin mix of gas and dust, sounds might be heard. Just be careful you don’t inadvertently take off your helmet for a listen.

Hurricane Isabel photographed from the International Space Station. Credit: NASA

Myth #10: Water swirling down a drain spins clockwise in the northern hemisphere and counterclockwise in the southern. The truth is, it’s random. The confusion lies with the Coriolis Effect, an apparent deflection of moving bodies on a rotating body like Earth. It affects large objects like weather systems. For example, in a low pressure system, air flows towards the center of the disturbance. As it does, it’s deflected to the right in the northern hemisphere and to the left in the southern hemisphere. This effect only operates on large scales – your toilet bowl is simply too small to be affected. Click HERE for an excellent tutorial on the topic.

Of course, there are more myths than 10. Things like meteorites that start fires or spacecraft battling thickets of asteroids in the asteroid belt. Have you heard of any good ones? If so, send them my way, and I’ll gather them together for a future blog on the topic.

Starry pleasures either side of midnight

The pentagon-shaped constellation Auriga (Awe-RYE-guh) is up for easy viewing around 7 p.m. local time. Its brightest star is Capella. To its right are three stars in a skinny triangle nicknamed "the Kids". Aldebaran, Taurus' brightest star, is about "one fist" to the right. Maps created with Stellarium

There are those who watch and study the stars and planets during evening hours and those who prefer the morning hours for their cosmic connection. Today we’ll try to provide something for sky watchers on both sides of the midnight hour. And if you feel like switching sides or attempting to do both, have at it.

One of the season’s easiest constellations to identify is Auriga the Charioteer, which made the list of the original 48 ancient constellations described by the 2nd century Roman astronomer Ptolemy. Before Orion rises and steals all the thunder, go outside after dinner and face northeast. If you stick your fist out at arm’s length and look about three “fists” above the horizon, you can’t miss the white, twinkly spark Capella. It’s the brightest star in Auriga, a constellation shaped like a pentagon and spanning a bit less than two “fists” end to end. The figure of Auriga is depicted holding a chariot’s reins, but oddly, no chariot is outlined among his stars. Capella is a Roman name meaning “she-goat” after the goat Amaltheia that suckled the infant Zeus. Nearby are three fainter stars in a snug triangle – these are Amaltheia’s kids, or simply, “The Kids”.  The bottom right star of the pentagon used to be shared between neighboring Taurus the Bull and Auriga, but when firm constellation borders were set by the International Astronomical Union (IAU) in 1930, it was assigned to Taurus as the star Beta. You may feel free, like I do, to still include it in Auriga to preserve the group’s geometrically-satisfying pentagonal outline. Just don’t tell the IAU.

When we look toward Auriga, we’re peering out to the outer rim of the Milky Way galaxy. Fewer stars pack the spaces between us and the rim compared to looking the other direction toward the galaxy’s hub. You’ll find the Milky Way dim here but not totally lacking. Take your binoculars and point them into the center of the pentagon. Among the individual stars across the field of view, you might stumble upon two or three denser clumps – the star clusters M36 and M38 – that we’ll examine more closely in an upcoming blog.

Leo stands high in the south tomorrow morning at the start of dawn. The third or last quarter moon joins Regulus, while the trio of Venus, Spica and Saturn catch the eye in the southeastern sky.

If you prefer starry mornings or just happen to be up tomorrow around 6 a.m., part the curtains and look south. There you’ll see the last quarter moon in conjunction with Leo the Lion’s brightest star Regulus. That’s not all. Look to the southeast for a trio of two bright planets – Saturn and Venus – and Virgo’s brightest star Spica.

Thankful for light and life

The setting sun sets ice-coated trees afire earlier this week. We all have much to be thankful for, including the joy of light in all of its guises. Photo: Bob King

Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you’re happily tucked away out of the cold with family close by and a tasty meal in the offing. Because of today’s packed schedule, the six International Space Station astronauts celebrated Thanksgiving early with a meal yesterday. The three Americans  on board prepared a traditional feast for their Russian comrades that included precooked, irradiated smoked turkey, turkey stuffing, candied yams and a fruit cobbler dessert.

If you’re interested in what astronauts eat, how they eat it and favorite space food recipes, check out The Astronaut’s Cookbook. In it you’ll learn the Russians must have their borscht and turn their noses up at American peanut butter. You’ll also learn how to prepare foods just like the ones the astronauts eat.

Astronauts face a full day of work today, followed by the departure of three of their team members. Two Americans and one Russian will climb into the Soyuz craft docked to the space station and take off at 7:22 p.m. CST this evening, landing in the grasslands of Kazakhstan just before 11 o’clock.
After a hiatus of a couple weeks, the space station is back in view for dawn sky watchers. I’ve listed Central times below when it will be visible over the Duluth, Minn. region. For times for your town click HERE and type in your zip code or login to Heavens Above. The station travels from west to east across the sky, appearing as a very bright star. Typical passes last between two to five minutes.

* Tomorrow (Friday) morning beginning at 5:59 a.m. very low across the south-southeast.
* Saturday Nov. 27 at 6:24 p.m. A nice bright pass across the southern sky.
* Sunday Nov. 28 at 6:50 a.m. in bright twilight. Brilliant pass straight across the top of the sky.
* Monday Nov. 29 at 5:43 a.m. This one could be worth using a telescope for, because the station passes directly in front of the moon at about 5:43:20. Check it out!
* Tuesday Nov. 30 at 6:08 a.m. Brilliant pass near the top of the sky.

The South Equatorial Belt is returning to life! This photo, taken Nov. 24, shows a short segment of the belt in place. Credit: Christopher Go

As promised, here are Central Standard times when the darkest, easiest-to-see portion of Jupiter’s South Equatorial Belt, called the SEB Revival, is squarely lined up on the planet’s central meridian and in best view. Observers should use a magnification of 100x or higher. A half hour before the listed times and up to an hour after will still give an adequate view. Remember to add an hour if you’re in the Eastern time zone, subtract an hour for Mountain and two hours if you’re on the West Coast. If you see it, please drop me a note, and I’ll share your observations with our readers.

* Tonight around 9 p.m.
* Friday Nov. 26 around 5:30 p.m.
* Saturday Nov. 27 around 10:30 p.m.
* Sunday Nov. 28 around 6:30 p.m.
* Monday Nov. 29 around 11:30 p.m.

I’m headed to work now, but  looking forward to a nice dinner with my family this afternoon. Enjoy your day!

Jupiter’s Red Spot has all its ducks in a row

Like baby ducks following mama, more than a half dozens smaller red ovals line up behind Jupiter's Great Red Spot in this photo taken November 23. Credit: Christopher Go

The Great Red Spot (GRS) on Jupiter is a big deal, literally. A high-pressure storm similar to a hurricane on Earth, its girth would swallow two Earths with room to spare. This photo shows the recent development of a string of smaller vortices or eddies following the Spot captured by Philippine astrophotographer Chris Go. My first thought was how akin it was to photos we’ve all seen of a mother duck followed by her babies. Not that the GRS necessarily had anything to do with the creation of these little red ovals, but there’s often turbulence in its vicinity. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s somehow involved in their creation. Either way, mama spot and babies make a picturesque presentation.

This closeup photo of the Great Red Spot is a mosaic of images taken by the Galileo probe. Credit: JPL/NASA

All this fresh activity is located in the planet’s southern latitudes, a region prone to storms, spots and ovals. The Great Red Spot is arguably Jupiter’s most defining feature. Its  clouds are some five miles higher than their surroundings and rotate counterclockwise as a single system in about six days. Amazing to realize this storm’s been around for at least 350 years! It was first observed by French astronomer Jean-Dominique Cassini in 1655. The “baby reds” are smaller eddies of spinning clouds tracking along Jupiter’s south tropical zone, where winds can blow up to 250 mph.

The SEB revival or resurgence of the dark Southern Equatorial Belt, appears to be well underway in this photo taken this morning. Credit: Christopher Go

In other Jupiter news, the little white spot that marked the start of new activity in Jupiter’s southern equatorial belt (SEB) earlier this fall, appears to be fueling the belt’s resurgence. You’ll recall that less than a year ago Jupiter “lost its stripe”as the SEB faded to near invisibility. Winds are now spreading darker material derived from below the pale white cloud deck into a dark, wispy streak. A clear night, steady skies and high power should reveal the feature to observers with modest-sized telescopes. I’m waiting for successive snow storms to finally blast out of the region and leave a couple calm, clear nights in their wake, so I can check it out again myself. Tomorrow I’ll post a list of times when you can see it best.

Dark, moonless skies return mid-week, inviting us out for a late-fall look at the Summer Triangle. Created with Stellarium

The moon now rises after the end of twilight. You guessed it – dark skies are back. We’ll have just over an hour of complete darkness tonight – from about 6 to 7 p.m.  – before moonrise. Why not go out and watch what’s left of the summer stars slink down in the western sky? Improbable as it sounds, the Summer Triangle of Vega, Altair and Deneb is still well-placed for viewing during the early evening. Heck, Deneb, at the top of the cross, is 70 degrees high (about 3/4 the way up the sky) at 6:30 p.m. It’s the brightest star in the constellation Cygnus the Swan, more familiar to many of us as the Northern Cross. If you live where there’s little city light pollution, the star clouds of the Cygnus Milky Way are especially pronounced compared to the galaxy’s dimmer reaches in the winter constellations of Auriga (awe-RYE-guh) and Orion.

The Summer Triangle, like the Big Dipper, is not a true constellation but an asterism – it’s comprised of the brightest stars in three neighboring constellations. It’s also a seasonal marker. When we see the Triangle first appear in the eastern sky, it tells us spring will soon give way to summer. When due south at nightfall, summer is already ripening into fall, and when the Cross stands straight up in the west after dinnertime, the first snow has whitened the ground … or will soon.

How to make a flying saucer, Saturn-style

A sextet of moons orbiting within and beyond the planet's rings are collected in this recently released image taken October 6, 2010 by the Cassini spacecraft. All photos credit: NASA/JPL/Space Science Institute

It’s not often a spacecraft nabs six moons around another planet in one photo, but there they are – Enceladus (313 miles across), oblong Janus (111 miles), Atlas (19 miles), Pan (17 miles), Daphnis (5 miles) and Epimetheus (70 miles) – nestled in and around Saturn’s rings. We see the unlit southern side of the rings in this picture, which was taken at a distance of 1.7 million miles. The spacecraft was closest to Epimetheus (ep-ee-MEE-thee-us) at the time.

Notice that both Pan and Daphnis are located inside dark gaps within the rings; these are zones where the gravitational interactions between the moons and the ring plane have cleared away most of the icy ring particles. They’re but two examples of how small moons, acting alone or in consort with other moons, have sculpted many of the planet’s rings. Although Saturn has 53 named moons, astronomers think there are dozens if not hundreds more tiny ones embedded in the ring plane too small to be resolved with Cassini’s camera.

The two pictures at top feature the moon Atlas; the two at bottom are of Pan. The lower right photo shows Pan crossed midway by Saturn's rings.

Small moons aren’t massive enough to crunch themselves into spheres through pressures created by their own self-gravity. The borderline between being spherical or irregular in shape is around 300-360 miles for a rocky body and somewhat smaller for icy objects.

Two of Saturn’s more curious moons shown in the first photo are Pan and Atlas, both of which are shaped like flying saucers. Scientists think that each started out as a fragment from an originally larger moon that was shattered by a long-ago collision with a comet or meteoroid. Over time, the remnants attracted icy material from the rings which accumulated along their equators to form a 360-degree shelf or ridge of ice. This scenario neatly explains the fact that the icy extensions lie exactly in the ring plane.

Learn more about Pan and Atlas in this short video with a distinctly French accent

Five disks of remant dust and gas, called protoplanetary disks, around newborn stars in the Orion Nebula photographed with the Hubble Space Telescope Credit: NASA/ESA

The process of these little moons gathering material around their equators is remarkably similar to what we believe happened during the birth of the solar system over 4.5 billion years ago. The Earth and planets, which lie in a fairly flat plane around the sun, are thought to have formed when bits of rocky and icy materials in a disk surrounding the early sun (analogous to Saturn’s rings) collided, stuck together and grew into the worlds we know today. Was Earth once a smaller, saucer-shaped body that eventually fattened up enough to absorb its ridges? Planets and moons wouldn’t be the only bodies siphoning dust and ice from their surroundings. Newborn stars are also cocooned inside disks of dust and gas from which they draw fresh material in a manner similar to Saturn’s Pan and Atlas. Studying these moons and how they interact with the rings may teach us lessons that apply to phenomena visible across the broader universe.

Dibs on the Big Dipper

The Big Dipper seen from Duluth (left) and Kansas City, MO. this week around 8 o'clock. Maps created with Stellarium

Though the moon remains big and bright early this week, there are a few constellations that stand out despite the glare of moonlight. One of them is the Big Dipper, not a constellation really, but the better half of the larger outline of Ursa Major the Great Bear. From the northern states and Canada, the Big Dipper remains above the horizon year round, though this time of year, it reaches its lowest point, called nadir (NAY-der). That spot is due north directly under Polaris the North Star. If you have trees in your neighborhood, it’ll be hard to see, but out on an open road at night or gazing skyward from an open field, it’s easy to see. Just like real bears, this one’s hibernating in an out-of-the-way spot: the nether regions of the northern sky.

The Dipper's nearly gone this time of year seen from the far southern U.S. Even the North Star is low in the sky.

From here in Duluth, Minn. at latitude 47 degrees north, the Dipper is a good “fist” above the northern horizon at nadir, which occurs around 8 p.m. local time. As the night deepens, the Bowl slowly climbs higher in the northeastern sky, dragging the Handle along with it. The further south you live, the lower the Dipper appears. From Kansas City, Missouri, (latitude 39 degrees), the burly creature scrapes the northern horizon. And if you’re watching from Miami, all you’ll see from the beach is Dubhe (DUB-ee), which marks the upper right corner of the Bowl.

Traveling south, we drive (or fly) along the curvature of the Earth. Looking ahead, we see stars that were once hidden from us emerge over the southern horizon. Looking back, we bid farewell to those far northern stars – like the Dipper – as they’re hidden by Earth’s curve. While folks in New Orleans and Miami can’t see the Big Dipper in November during mid-evening hours, they’re compensated with things that Northerners can’t get their eyes on. Like Orion WAY up in the sky or the brilliant star Canopus in Carina the Keel, located due south of Sirius in Canis Major the Greater Dog.

If you extend the Earth's poles and equator into space, you get their celestial equivalents. Folks in Australia see southern stars we can't and we see northern stars they can't, but there is a good degree of overlap, too. Any star or constellation near the celestial equator is visible in nearly everyone's sky across the globe.

Astronomers extend familiar landmarks on Earth up into the sky, add the word celestial to their description and use them as way points to navigate the heavens. Hence we have the north and south celestial poles and the celestial equator. Polaris sits near the north celestial pole, the sun is on the celestial equator on the first days of spring and fall, and the starry sky in Australia appears to pivot around the south celestial pole. All these points of reference lie on the celestial sphere, an imaginary sphere centered on the Earth encompassing the heavens.

From mid-northern latitudes we can see all the stars down to about 45 degrees below the celestial equator (CE). Below that, the bulk of the planet cuts off our view of the deep southern sky. From southern Florida, sky watchers can peer down to 65 degrees below the CE, while at the earthly equator, all stars in both hemispheres are visible, although those near the north and south celestial poles are very low in the sky. In the southern hemisphere, it’s the reverse of the north – Earth’s bulk gets in the way once again, but this time the northern stars are below the horizon and invisible, while new ones from the south come into view.

In your travels hither and yon across the planet, you’ll also discover you’ve traveled across the celestial sphere as well. If you look up of course.

Faces of astronauts in space

Astronaut Tracy Caldwell Dyson looks out of the space station's observation window, called the Cupola, shortly before her return to earth this October after a 176 day mission. On the flight, she operated Endeavor’s robotic arm and directed four spacewalks. Credit: NASA

As a photojournalist, my job mostly involves taking pictures of people. I enjoy nothing more than catching a nice moment, expression or human interaction. The best pictures reveal the emotion the subject is feeling, be it elation, confusion, sadness or anticipation. We read these feelings and relate to them without words – the beauty of photography. While I also take many astrophotos, most involve beautiful if inanimate objects and scenes. I’d love to get aboard a shuttle or the space station and shoot pictures of the astronauts the way I do for the newspaper. Chances are this won’t happen anytime soon. While many of the astronaut photos we see feature faces smiling at the camera, there are a few really excellent ones that go deeper. Were it not for the highly reflective coatings applied to space helmets to reflect sunlight and reduce glare, I’m convinced we’d have many more images of astronauts’ facial expressions as they work, play and explore the terrifyingly beautiful world of outer space. I dug around and offer these for your viewing enjoyment and contemplation this Sunday.

Astronaut John Glenn experiences weightlessness in the Friendship 7 capsule as he circles the Earth in the Friendship 7 capsule. On February 20, 1962, he became the first American to orbit the Earth. Credit: NASA

Astronaut Sunita Williams, Expedition 14 flight engineer, participates in one of the mission's extravehicular activities. Williams holds the record for the longest time a woman has spent in space: 195 days. Credit: NASA

A tired but elated Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon, after his first moonwalk on July 20, 1969. Credit: Buzz Aldrin / NASA

Cosmonaut Valeri Polyakov looks out the window of Russia's Mir space station during rendezvous operations with the Space Shuttle Discovery in this photo taken in February 1995. Polyakov still holds the record for the most consecutive number of days in space - 437 days, 18 hours. Credit: NASA

NASA Astronaut Karen Nyberg, looking down on Earth during a mission to the International Space Station on June 10th, 2008. Nyberg is the 50th woman in space. "When girls see pictures of ponytails like the one above, don’t you think it stirs something inside them that says, that could be ME up there!" said Nyberg. Credit: NASA

Full moon in the time of short shadows

Orion's Belt points straight to the nearly full moon tonight. The stars Aldebaran in Taurus and Betelgeuse in Orion are both red-tinted. Compare them to the bright white Rigel. The map shows the sky looking southeast around 9:30 p.m. local time. Created with Stellarium

The moment of Full Beaver Moon happens tomorrow morning at 11:27 Central time, but you’ll be hard pressed to detect any “out of roundness” with your naked eye when you look tonight. The moon looks nearly circular a full 12 hours either side of official full phase. Even last night, as my wife and I stood in a bitter wind, waiting for the switch to be thrown to light the city Christmas tree, the moon looked huge and nearly full. If you stood in the right spot, it was an unearthly but very fitting ornament hanging from one of the tree’s boughs.

A high full moon shines down over the forest. Photo: Bob King

Also called the Full Frosty Moon, the Beaver moon’s name comes to us from the Native American tribes in Eastern North America and refers to the time to set beaver traps before the swamps freeze over. It was critical to have a supply of furs at hand before the start of winter. If you’re wont to go walking in moonlight as I am, you’ll notice that during the late fall and winter months, when the full moon is high in the sky, shadows are short. Around the time of full moon from November through February, the shadow of your head is snugged up near your feet, while in June and July it stretches out ahead. Since the full moon is opposite the sun in the sky, a low winter sun casts long shadows, exactly the opposite of those made by the moon.

Since the moon closely follows the same circuit in the sky as the sun, it’s easy to look up in an almanac when the sun was in the same place as the moon will be tonight. A quick check shows that happened on May 25 and July 17. Both dates lie a few weeks before and after the summer solstice, when the sun is highest in the sky for the entire year. No surprise then why shadows are short at night.

When biting winds sear my face on nightly walks with the dog,  I’ll look at the compact shadow my bundled form casts under the full moon and recall the high sun and languor of the season past.