Japan launches imaginative mission to a carbon-rich asteroid

Japan’s Hayabusa 2 asteroid mission rockets into space Tuesday. Credit: JAXA

On Tuesday at 10:22 p.m. (CST) the Hayabusa 2 mission launched from Tanegashima Space Center in southern Japan. Destination: 1999 JU3, a C-type carbon-rich asteroid nearly 3,000 feet (900 meters) across.

C-type space rocks are the most common and may have delivered some of the essential chemical building blocks important to the origin of life on Earth during the formation of the planets 4.5 billion years ago. Scientists hope to detect water and organic molecules on this never-before-explored world-let.

Anybody want a peanut? This close up photo of 25143 Itokawa was taken by Hayabusa 1 in 2005. The Mars-crossing asteroid spans just 1,755 feet (535-meters). Credit: JAXA

This is Japan’s second mission to an asteroid. The first – Hayabusa 1 – made a round trip journey to 25143 Itokawa, a rocky asteroid just a third of a mile across some 123 million miles from the Sun, from 2003 to 2010. Even though that mission encountered numerous technical problems including a pointing system failure, a fuel leak and a malfunction of the device used to collect rock samples, engineers babied it back to Earth.

At the time, no one was knew for certain whether any samples had been gathered at all, but upon re-entry, scientists discovered a tiny fraction of material inside the craft landing vehicle. Success!

Artist depiction of Hayabusa 2 in orbit around the dark, carbon-rich asteroid 1999 JU3. Credit: JAXA

“We changed a lot of parts on Hayabusa 2,” said Hitoshi Kuninaka, JAXA’s Hayabusa 2 program manager. “We installed four reaction wheels, and Hayabusa 1 had only three. The sampling system also has some improvements. Our operations software was upgraded for better proximity operations around the asteroid.”

Like the first probe, Hayabusa 2 will propel itself with an ion engine, where ionized (electrified) xenon gas is accelerated through a strong electric field and expelled at high speed to produce a steady thrust. This time around, the engines were upgraded to produce more thrust. A new antenna system will beam back data at four times the previous rate.

One of the four MINERVA II robotic landers that will hop around the asteroid taking pictures and measurements. Credit: JAXA

The spacecraft will arrive at 1999 JU3, which orbits between Earth and Mars, in June 2018. Before dispatching four landing robots, the main spacecraft will study and map the surface from a distance of about 12 miles (20 km).The landers are mobile and able to hop across the asteroid to study its environment from several locations.

Warning – don’t hop too hard! 1999 JU3 is even smaller than Rosetta’s Comet with a gravitational pull 60,000 times weaker than Earth. It wouldn’t be difficult to bounce off the asteroid and not return to the surface for a long time much as what happened to the Philae lander.

Hayabusa 2 will remain at the asteroid for a year and a half, long enough to move in close and use its collection tube to gather rocks from three different locations. In an audacious move, the spacecraft will fire a 2-kilogram (4.4-pound) copper disk into the asteroid to blast out an artificial crater about 10 feet (several meters) across and 3 feet deep. Why? To sample more pristine rocks not exposed to direct solar radiation.

Hayabusa 2 samples the crater floor after the blast, gathering fresh rocks shielded from the damaging effects of cosmic and solar radiation. Credit: Akihiro Ikeshita / JAXA

After the explosion, the spacecraft will swing by and use its sampler arm to fire tiny “bullets” made of the element tantalum into the crater and funnel debris that ricochets up from the surface into its collection tube. Mission planners hope to harvest at least 1/10 of a gram of asteroid dust.

As the spacecraft returns to Earth’s vicinity, it will eject a container with the dust that will drop through the atmosphere and land by parachute in the Australian outback in December 2020.

This is a big week for rocket launches. NASA’s new Orion space capsule is scheduled to launch into orbit on an unmanned test flight at 6:05 a.m. (CST) tomorrow. If all goes well, this could be our first step toward a manned mission to Mars. You can watch the launch live on NASA TV.

Daylight saving time puts spring stars on ice / ‘Cosmos’ premieres tonight!

1918 post card that citizens could mail to their congressman to show support for the daylight saving time law, which was enacted on March 19, 1918 in the U.S. Click to read the history of DST. Credit: Library of Congress

It happens every year. The seasonal westward drift of the stars is temporarily put on hold when we “spring forward” an hour on the second Sunday in March.

With daylight saving time or DST we gain an hour of evening daylight and lose an hour of early morning light. After a long winter, who doesn’t welcome more light at the dinner hour?

A one-hour later sunset naturally means an additional hour for night to begin. Yesterday, twilight ended and true night began around 7:45 p.m. Darkness descends tonight around 8:45 p.m. Since we’ll have to wait that extra hour for stars to come up in the east, the time change has the effect of retarding every star’s rising by an hour.

Sirius, the brightest star, heads up the constellation Canis Major the Big Dog and is very prominent in the southern sky this month. With the start of daylight saving time, it now appears one hour east (to the left) of where it was last night at the same clock time. Stellarium

For instance, last night around 8:30 p.m. I watched brilliant Sirius twinkle west of due south. When the clock glows 8:30 p.m. tonight, Sirius will sparkle east of due south. The same holds true for Orion and the other winter stars. Compared to last night at the same clock time, the winter constellations will be higher up in the sky. Meanwhile, the spring constellations of Leo, Virgo and Bootes, which have been steadily gaining ground in the east, will be shoved back an hour.

While it’s not a great hardship, it does mean that to see the cool spring stuff, we have to go out an hour later compared to a night ago. I’ve been watching Mars finally make its way into the evening sky. To observe it now means getting out at midnight instead of 11. Oh well.

All will take care of itself in due time. We’ll come to accept the change, just as our bodies will finally figure out to do with the hour we lost. And since the westward drift of stars with the seasons never stops, come late-April, Sirius and friends will be memories and bright Arcturus and Mars will gleam in the southern sky.

View of Earth’s orbit around the sun seen from above the north pole. As we zip along at 18.5 miles per second, we see a different set of constellation in the night sky depending upon where we are in our orbit. From this moving perspective, the background constellations appear to drift to the right or westward. Credit: Bob King

As Earth travels in its orbit around the sun at 18.5 miles per second, we peer into a different direction in space as the weeks and months pass. Think of going for a ride on one of those merry-go-round horses at a carnival. As the merry-go-round turns, we look out to see a different part of the fairground as the seconds pass. After one spin, the view repeats until the ride is over.

If you substitute the Earth for the horse and our orbit for the merry-go-round, the very same thing happens during a year’s stargazing with the view repeating once every year. During Earth’s “little spin” around the sun, we see the stars and constellations drift from east to west across the sky as we pass them by.

This isn’t the same as the nightly rising and setting of stars – that’s due to Earth’s rotation. Every star you see makes a complete circle around the sky in 24 hours. The much more leisurely seasonal drift is superimposed on that pattern and reveals itself to sky watchers who spend time regularly under the stars.


Cosmos trailer on Fox-TV. The series will air at 8 p.m. Central Time Sundays starting tonight 

A final note. The new 13-part “Cosmos” TV series, hosted by astrophysicist and astronomy popularizer extraordinaire Neil deGrasse Tyson, starts tonight on Fox-TV at 8 p.m. CDT (Central time) and 9 p.m. Monday nights on the National Geographic Channel. Don’t miss it!

 

What’s on YOUR astronomical bucket list?

Orion rising toward the meridian. Credit: Bob King

8:15 p.m. I’m starring at Orion the Hunter from the driveway thinking about my observing buddy who was recently diagnosed with cancer. The doctors told him that if treatments and surgery go well, he might live for several years.

I can’t imagine being given a deadline on my life, though I suppose we all live under one. Only difference is some of us know it and the rest of us pretend it’s not there. We always live as if.

My friend’s a positive person with an easy sense of humor and passion for astronomy. You’ll find him out on the coldest nights, star chart and red flashlight in hand, mapping a route to a new galaxy or star cluster he’s never seen before.

In the middle of his new reality, he decided to set goals. One of his first is to do additional public outreach astronomy, to bring his telescope to more places to share his love of the sky with more people. Next, he wants to travel to the southern hemisphere to finally see the stars forever blocked from view by his southern horizon.

His courage and optimism in the face of a grim prognosis filled me with positive emotion. It may even have been the reason I stayed out in the cold last night as long as I did.

As Orion tipped to the west, I thought about my own bucket list. For me it would be to return to the southern hemisphere and set up a big scope somewhere in the deserts of Australia to explore the Milky Way’s satellite galaxies, the Large and Small Magellanic Clouds.

I’d also like to see the planets at high magnification from southern Florida, where atmospheric turbulence is at a minimum and images are rock solid. Canoeing in moonlight (as often as possible), enjoying a total solar eclipse without a camera and spending lots more time showing school-age children the moon and planets with my telescope. These top my list.

Funny hobby this astronomy. The long-lived stars and their unfathomable distances constantly remind us of the brevity of our lives, though we often don’t pay attention. We’re only human after all; it takes work to always be aware of how sweet life is. For some, that sweetness is made purer by knowledge of life’s end.

Like the stars, my friend helped me appreciate this ever-so-short dance in the light.

Once upon a midnight clearing

Jupiter shines brightly over tall spruce trees after the snow finally stopped late Wednesday night. The constellation Orion with his three belt stars is at upper right. Credit: Bob King

The sight of stars can heal. We know this. Last week after three days of heavy snow, hard work moving it and hours spent driving through it, the sky miraculously cleared overnight. At the time, my neighbor had come over to help me fix my broken snowblower. When we finished and turned to walk back down the driveway, both of us looked up at the same time and could hardly believe what we saw. Stars. Brilliant stars. After nights and days of clouds, the sky cracked open to reveal there was something beyond the grayness.

Maybe it was the way the snow-clad spruces towered against the night, but the sky looked pitch black and the stars popped with extra sparkle.

I often write about what we know about stars – the facts as it were – but lovers of the night know their light shines on our emotions, too. That night their appearance brought us both a wonderful sense of relief.

Comet ISON and I meet again on a cold September morning

Comet ISON shows a small head or coma and short tail in this photo taken on Aug. 31, 2013. Credit: Krisztián Sárneczky / Konkoly Observatory

Months ago, when temperatures still dropped into the teens at night, I got my last look at Comet ISON. The comet glowed dimly then at the limit of my largest scope. This morning I’m happy to report that ISON has returned wearing a brighter face.

Sketch of Comet ISON from this morning seen through my telescope around 4:35 a.m. CDT just before the start of morning twilight. South at top, east to the right. Field of view is about 1/4 degree. Credit: Bob King

“Bright” of course is a relative term. Through a 15-inch telescope the comet was a faint, 12th magnitude 12.7 magnitude hazy spot that looked like a puff of smoke among the stars, but compared to last March and April, it was MUCH easier to see. And while the tail stands out clearly in the photo, I could only tell the comet was “stretched” a little with its bright head off to one side.

Orion the Hunter rises out of the forest this morning. He’s well on his way up by the start of dawn in early September just as air temperatures begin their decline. This morning it was 36 degrees (2 C).  Credit: Bob King

Face to face with ISON, I’ll be honest and say this bit of fluff’s got a long way to go before I ask my neighbors to pile out for a look. But seeing the comet finally kick it up notch gives me hope that we’ll have a nice show come early November.

The fat cone of light, brighter at the bottom and fading towards the tip, is the zodiacal light. It’s composed mostly of comet dust and gathers into a thick disk in the plane of the solar system. This morning it pointed straight to Jupiter, the bright object near top. Credit: Bob King

Getting up before dawn also brings other treats besides a faint comet that may one day achieve greatness. There’s Orion the Hunter and the sprawling Orion Nebula, home to hundreds of infant stars still swaddled in their nebular blankets. Jupiter glares right at you from Gemini in the east and it’s all topped off by the return of that eerie hump of comet dust glowing in the still dark sky – the zodiacal light.

A very thin crescent moon rose during twilight this morning September 3. Tomorrow morning will probably be the last time you’ll see it before it moves into the evening sky. Watch for the moon starting about 45 minutes before sunrise very low in the eastern sky. Credit: Bob King

Now that fall is near, the zodiacal light is tipped up into view again just before dawn. Look for a large, diffuse glow that you might first mistake for dawn. It spans the sky from Cancer, near the horizon, all the way past brilliant Jupiter nearly to Taurus the Bull.

And yes, with dawn came the crescent moon, a gentle reminder it was time for bed.

For more on Comet ISON including detailed maps on how to find it, check out my post on Universe Today.

Move over Orion, it’s the Big Dog’s turn

The sky facing south around 9-9:30 p.m. local time in mid-February. Canis Major lies to the right and below the constellation Orion and represents a large dog. Created with Stellarium

Orion the Hunter claims the southern sky as his own during evening hours in early February, but the times are changing. Nipping at his heels is the Dog Star Sirius and the rest of the stars that comprise the constellation Canis Major the Greater Dog. ‘Greater’ because there’s also a ‘lesser’ dog in the neighborhood called Canis Minor.

Truthfully, this constellation’s so small, it looks more like a dog bone treat for the bigger Canis.

Open your door and look outside at 8 o’clock and you can’t miss Orion’s three belt stars. If you shoot a line downward through the belt toward the southern horizon, you’ll soon arrive at scintillating Sirius, flashing like a silent firecracker in the turbulent air common at lower elevations.

Dangling below Sirius are some half dozen stars in the shape of a musical triangle. These form the legs, tail and head of Canis Major. Connect the dots the next clear night and you’ll see they do form the likeness of a dog jumping at your feet.

Mythological depiction of Canis Major and nearby Lepus the Hare. That rabbit better watch out. Credit: Urania’s Mirror atlas

Canis Major has been described in myth as Orion’s hunting companion and also as Laelops, “a dog so swift that no prey could outrun it”, according to Ian Ridpath, author of Star Tales. The Big Dog doesn’t have to look far for a snack -  just beneath Orion, Lepus the Hare munches contentedly in the stellar garden.

It wasn’t too many weeks ago that you had to stay up late to catch the canine constellation, but now I see it’s nudging Orion from its top spot by 9:30 p.m. As the Earth spins, stars appear to rise in the east, reach their greatest height when due south and set in the west. By month’s end, Canis Major will be due south around 8 p.m. and Orion will have taken a hike to the west.

The Greater Dog constellation topped by Sirius, nicknamed the “Dog Star” for obvious reasons. The star cluster M41, located just a short distance below Sirius, is a very pretty sight in binoculars and very easy to find. Photo: Bob King

If the nightly east-west drift of stars is due to Earth’s rotation, what causes the seasonal drift of the stars? Why doesn’t Orion always stay in the same place week after week, month after month? Blame it on Copernicus. He made the claim, outrageous for his time, that the Earth moved around the sun. Throughout antiquity and into the Middle Ages people thought that if the Earth moved, every time you jumped off the ground, the planet would rush away and leave you behind. Since that didn’t happen, it was obvious the Earth must stand still.

Few understood that EVERYTHING – the Earth, the jumper, birds and atmosphere – were all moving at the same speed and so appeared to be at rest relative to each other. The same thing happens when you’re flying at 550 mph in a plane. Once the plane has reached a constant speed, you’re hardly aware you’re moving. And since you, your laptop and that ginger ale are all traveling at 550 mph, they don’t go flying around the plane. This habit of things to stay put as long as they’re all moving at the same speed is called inertia.

Because our planet orbits the sun, we see into different directions in space over the weeks and months of a year. In January (right), Orion dominates the southern sky; in April it’s Leo and in June, Scorpius. The whole cycle repeats every year. Illustration: Bob King

OK, back to the Big Dog. As the Earth orbits the sun, our perspective on the nighttime sky changes over the weeks and months. At 10 p.m. in mid-January Orion stands straight up in the southern sky, but at 10 p.m in February, he’s been replaced by Canis Major. Come 10 p.m. in April, Leo the Lion will be high in the south and Orion will have set in the west.

As the weeks and months go by, we peer into a different direction of sky just as a runner sees different groups of fans as she runs the 1500-meter on a race track. Like many good things in skywatching, the cycle repeats anew every year.

Meet Rigel in Orion, a star with supernova potential

Both Betelgeuse and Rigel are potential supernova candidates. The view shows the sky facing southeast around 8 p.m. local time in early January.  Maps created with Stellarium

Everybody’s always worried about Betelgeuse in Orion blowing up as a supernova. There’s a good chance that may happen one day, but no need to panic. The star’s too far away to trouble earthlings with its future fireworks. Opposite Betelgeuse and below the winsome triad of stars that form Orion’s Belt, another potential supernova star sparks and sputters on winter nights – Rigel. The name comes from ancient Arabic and refers to the foot or leg of Orion.

Like Betelgeuse, Rigel (RYE-jel) is also a supergiant star but one of a different color and temperature. Astronomers classify it as a blue supergiant with a surface temperature of over 20,000 degrees, twice that of the sun and 3 1/2 times hotter than Betelgeuse.

Rigel, a blue supergiant star, is 18 times more massive than the sun and 74 times its size. Credit: CWitte with minor alterations by Bob King

At a distance of 860 light years, Rigel is big enough and close enough to have its diameter measured directly. As you might guess, it’s huge – 74 times the size of our sun.

Placed where the sun is now, this stellar beast would extend nearly to the orbit of Mercury. From Earth, Rigel would span 35 degrees of sky and shine at a blinding -38 magnitude. We’re talking a powerful sunburn in a minute or two.

Great distance tames Rigel’s true ferocity as a young, energy gobbling star into a pretty blue-white twinkle reminiscent of sunlight on snowflakes. Rigel shines at 0.1 magnitude or about as bright as Capella in Auriga and Vega in Lyra.

Being extremely hot, blue supergiants burn up their energy stores quickly. At the tender age of 10 million years (young for a star), Rigel has already depleted its core of hydrogen fuel and has moved on to burning hydrogen in a surrounding shell.

If put in place of the sun 93 million miles from Earth, Rigel would cover 35 degrees or sky or about twice the area of the constellation Orion.

Helium “ash” created from hydrogen burning will one day ignite and serve as fuel as will progressively heavier elements like oxygen, neon and silicon over time. Rigel will puff up and redden just like Betelgeuse in those far-off days.

Just before a supergiant star blows it has a core made of iron that cannot “burn” to create energy to push back the force of gravity. Gravity takes hold and the star collapses.

Unfortunately, supergiant stars reach the end of the line once all the remaining silicon fuel has undergone nuclear fusion to create a core of iron. Iron requires more energy to fuse than the energy it releases, so it won’t burn like the other elemental fuels. With no burning to push back against the crushing force of gravity in so large a star, the core collapses and sends out shock waves that rip it apart in a supernova explosion.

Rigel is a close double star in a small telescope. Use 100x and up to split it cleanly. Credit: Fresno State University Observatory

When will this happen? Probably millions of years down the road. Since Rigel’s 300 light years farther from Earth than Betelgeuse, we needn’t worry about it either. Instead, our future descendants should prepare for a wondrous light show. Jim Kaler, professor emeritus at the University of Illinois, estimates that Rigel will become as bright as the half-moon when it finally blows up. Picture all that light concentrated in a tiny point of light. We’d easily see our shadows at night by supernova light!

If you have a small telescope 4.5 inches or larger, point it at Rigel some night. It’s one of the finest, if challenging, double stars in the sky. The 7th magnitude companion peaks out from under the glare of the main star a very short distance (9 arc seconds) to its south. On a night with steady air and good seeing, this pair is a beautiful sight.

Make a toast to the New Year’s Eve midnight sky

The Winter Triangle will greet your gaze at midnight tonight high in the south. To find your directions, face slightly to the right of the sunset direction – that’s west. Then stick out your right arm to point north, your left arm points south and east is at your back. Maps created with Stellarium

Most of us will be wandering around at midnight tonight, right? Why not peek outside to see what’s happening in the sky at a time when we’re normally asleep?

Jupiter beams brightly high in the southwestern sky, but it’s Orion and Sirius that might catch your eye first. During the early evening Orion reclines in the east; by midnight he’s standing straight up staring you in the face. At his lower left, romping and ready for the hunt, is the Great Dog, Canis Major. Sirius, the most brilliant star in the heavens, sparkles from his collar. Yipping for attention well above Orion is the little chihuahua dog Canis Minor with its luminary Procyon. Connect the little Dog Star with Sirius and Orion’s ruby Betelgeuse to form the Winter Triangle.

The moon visits Leo’s brightest star Regulus tonight. Alphard, Hydra’s “alpha” star, shines meekly to the lower right of the moon.

Off to the east, the waning gibbous moon in Cancer isn’t far from Regulus, Leo the Lion’s brightest star. Direct your gaze two outstretched fists to the lower right of the moon to catch sight of Alphard in Hydra the Water Snake, a transitional winter-spring constellation. Even Leo carries a whiff of spring as it rides up in the east – come April, it will  rule the southern sky at nightfall.

In the north, we see that the Big Dipper, which has been slumbering away along the northern horizon all fall, has finally returned to the tray-table upright position in the northeast. The Dipper is the brightest portion of Ursa Major the Great Bear and always strikes me as a little funny at this hour standing on his tail (handle). The ancients, who created the constellations, obviously loved animals – and perhaps a good circus act – as much as we do.

Have you missed the Big Dipper? Go out at midnight, look to the north and you’ll see your old friend has returned.

Queen Cassiopeia belongs to the northern sky but also partakes of the west at this hour. The W-shaped constellation stands on its end opposite the Big Dipper. Between them lies the always reliable North Star also known as Polaris. Like that person you can always count on being there for you, we know where to find our Polaris.

The western sky at midnight is filled with departing constellations of fall including Aries the Ram and Andromeda.

A line of stars angling northwestward is the brightest part of Andromeda the Chained Princess. She dominated the sky overhead sky earlier in the evening, but by the midnight hour the princess repairs to her western bed. Higher up you’ll see the familiar Pleiades star cluster and the curliques of stars forming the constellation Perseus the Hero.

Raise your glass tonight in a toast to the good old stars at the start of a brand new year.

Happy New Year everyone!

Pushy Orion nudges out the Northern Cross on November nights

In this nearly 360-degree view, the sky is shown at 10 o’clock local time when Orion and the Northern Cross (also known as Cygnus the Swan) are opposite one another. SE stands for the  southeast direction and NW for northwest. Created with Stellarium

Orion the Hunter rises, the Summer Triangle sets. These two opposing groups of stars lie on opposite sides of the sky from one another and represent the great seasonal divide of summer and winter. Nowhere is this more obvious than in the stance of the Northern Cross.

The Northern Cross led by its brightest star Deneb stands above the western horizon Friday night. Photo: Bob King

I noticed it Friday night while out walking the dog. Cygnus the Swan a.k.a. the Northern Cross stood exactly upright in the northwestern sky around 10 o’clock. Meanwhile Vega, the brightest star in the Summer Triangle, required some neck twisting to see, hidden as it was by tree branches to the lower right of the Cross. In the exact opposite corner of the sky Orion and his tri-star Belt led a charge of bright winter stars laying waste to the dim constellations of the fall southern sky.

Brilliant Jupiter (top) and Orion (left), with his three-stars-in-a-row belt, shine through the clouds in the eastern sky Friday night. Photo: Bob King

Despite their seasonal differences, the “alpha” or brightest stars of Cygnus and Orion – Deneb and Betelgeuse – are both supergiants with diameters so large they make the sun look point-like in comparison. Before continuing, you must know that Betelgeuse, is not Orion’s brightest star despite its designation as Alpha Orionis. It’s bested by a few tenths of a magnitude by Rigel in the hunter’s foot. Since Betelgeuse is a pulsating variable star with a diameter and brightness that changes over the months and years, it may at times wax brighter than Rigel.

Astronomers estimate Betelgeuse varies between about 550 and 920 times the size of the sun as it expands and contracts, unable to reach stasis like our more dependable star. These ups and downs are all part of Betelgeuse’s evolution from a red supergiant to potential supernovadom – one winter evening we may look up to find it’s blown its top, outshining every star in the nighttime sky.

Deneb is an enormous blue-white supergiant star some 100-200 times the size of the sun. It appears as a modestly bright 1st magnitude star because it’s over 1,500 light years away. Betelgeuse in comparison is only 642 light years away. Illustration: Bob King

Betelgeuse’s counterpart Deneb in the Northern Cross is likewise a supergiant but a younger, much hotter blue-white star 100-200 times the sun’s diameter. Both these great giants and their respective constellations draw our eye this time of year, when the leaves are down and the stars sparkle between tree branches like stellar tinsel.

Farewell DST, hello Orion!

The two maps show the sky facing east on Nov. 3, when daylight saving time was still in effect, and tonight. Losing an hour makes the stars appear to move an hour westward, raising Orion up in the east at the same time on the clock. Created with Stellarium

Since dropping Daylight Saving Time last weekend you’ve probably noticed how swiftly evening darkness descends. The photojournalist part of me craves daylight, especially if I need to shoot a feature photo for my newspaper’s local news section. It’s not easy to find or photograph people out and about during twilight.

But there are compensations. One of them is the swift kick the stars get once DST is done. You may have noticed last week around 9:30 p.m. local time that Jupiter and his constellation buddies Taurus and Orion grazed the treetops low in the eastern sky.

With our return to standard time, the stars of the eastern sky are up an hour earlier, while those in the west set an hour earlier. If you’re a fan of Orion and Jupiter – and who isn’t? – you don’t have to stay up so late to see them. Meanwhile, you’d better get out early if you want to catch the late summer-early fall stars. They’re all in the western sky and getting the boot an hour sooner.

The secret to this remarkable sleight of hand is simple – 9:30 p.m. daylight time is the same as 8:30 standard time. For our clocks to read 9:30 standard time we have to wait an additional hour, during which time Orion sneaks up from below the horizon and Jupiter vaults higher in the east.

Many of the meteors in this composite photo belong to the Taurid meteor shower, which remains active through the weekend. The bright object at lower right is the moon. Credit: John Chumack

Having Taurus the Bull nosing up earlier is a good thing because the Taurid meteor shower’s putting on a decent show. I wish I could chime in with my own observations, but the sky’s been overcast here. Not so for astrophotographer John Chumack of Dayton, Ohio. He grabbed some great video stills yesterday morning at the start of the shower’s peak activity.

“The meteors were nice and slow … burning up and often leaving small afterglows (trails),” writes Chumack. “Not bad for a minor shower.” The Taurids will continue to fling meteors our way through the weekend. Click HERE for more information on how to view them.