While all eyes were on the nonevent taking place in the Hudson Valley of New York (and elsewhere), there was quite the show taking place above that taunting canopy of clouds.
That’s right, I’m talking about the flyby of Asteroid 2004 BL86.
This little world blasted past our very own Earth and if you were lucky and had the right viewing opportunities, you could see it. I’d been hoping for a clear sky, as I’d been itching to take the new Celestron out behind the garage and see what I could see. Alas, it wasn’t to be – clouds with a tiny sprinkling of snow dropping from them – but that hasn’t stopped my fascination with BL86.
Take a look at the NASA/JPL film I’ve enclosed with this blog, as well as this excellent link from the same source. BL86 is a round asteroid with its own munchkin moon, which I find utterly charming. That moon isn’t much larger than our back yard, and here it is, making a name for itself while partnering with BL86 as it graces our solar system. True, it came within 745,000 miles/1.2 million kilometers of the Earth. That only means it stayed far away enough to mind its own business yet close enough to give us a good flirt and a wink.
Can you imagine if you were one of the inhabitants of that tiny world? How your view changes as the days whirr past while zipping through the solar system. It’s almost as if it’s shouting “wheee!” as it goes on its tilted orbit around the sun, waving hello every now and again.
If you have enough patience to wait until 2027, there might be a second opportunity to see yet another asteroid, 1999 AN10, grace our planet with its near presence. It, too, is expected to pass rather close…and raising the inevitable alarms that it has the potential to blast us out of existence.
Ah well.
Until then, keep your eyes to the skies, and always continue to be surprised!
Afternoon analemma photo taken in 1998-1999 by Jack Fishburn in Murray Hill, NJ. Bell Laboratories building in foreground
Have you ever noticed in the mornings, from about mid-December to around mid-January that the sun rises the same time every day? Even though the time of the setting sun changes, the dawn keeps breaking at 7:21 am (or whatever time your sun happens to rise, depending upon where in the world you live). It’s as if it’s stuck, needing an extra nudge to get it moving. Once again, from about mid-June to mid-July, the same thing happens with the sun once more.
As illustrated in the photo above, this phenomena is called an analemma. The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines it as, “a plot or graph of the position of the sun in the sky at a certain time of day (as noon) at one locale measured throughout the year that has the shape of a figure 8; also: a scale (as on a globe or sundial) based on such a plot that shows the sun’s position for each day of the year or that allows local mean time to be determined.”
So, if one were to take a picture of the sun at the same time every day, from exactly the same position, you’d more or less wind up with a figure 8. It’s proof that the Earth’s axis is tilted at 23.439°. However, the angle at which it’s seen changes wherever one is located on Earth. The above was taken at roughly 40° north. Here is a picture taken at Veszprem, Hungary, which is latitude 47°:
Here’s an excellent link from the Washington Post that illustrates how the sun moves in the sky through the months.
And who can forget the moon? Since it rises and sets, it too creates its own analemma. However, the moon rises 51 minutes later every day, so in order to successfully photograph it, one has to take that into account. Understanding that means the moon returns to the same position 51 minutes later, in accordance to its rising. Still, with patience, one can create an excellent example of what the moon can do, although one has to also remember it has phases. That creates a wonderful variety of shapes. Here’s an example:
Earth isn’t the only place where the analemma occurs. Any planet where the sun shines also shares this perspective, although it’s teardrop shaped on Mars:
Digital Illustration Credit & Copyright: Dennis Mammana (Skyscapes)
Why the different shape? Here’s the explanation from NASA:
“On planet Earth, an analemma is the figure-8 loop you get when you mark the position of the Sun at the same time each day throughout the year. But similarly marking the position of the Sun in the Martian sky would produce the simpler, stretched pear shape in this digital illustration, based on the Mars Pathfinder project’s famous Presidential Panorama view from the surface. The simulation shows the late afternoon Sun that would have been seen from the Sagan Memorial Station once every 30 Martian days (sols) beginning on Pathfinder’s Sol 24 (July 29, 1997). Slightly less bright, the simulated Sun is only about two thirds the size as seen from Earth, while the Martian dust, responsible for the reddish sky of Mars, also scatters some blue light around the solar disk.”
Each planet, given its north-south axis tilt and shape of its orbit, has its own analemma shape:
Mercury – nearly straight line
Venus – ellipse
Mars – teardrop (as illustrated above)
Jupiter – ellipse
Saturn – figure 8, but with tight northern loop
Uranus – figure 8
Neptune – figure 8
Let me add that you don’t necessarily need a camera to record the sun’s analemma. Think back to the movie “Cast Away” wherein Tom Hanks marks on stone where the sun travels throughout the year. You can make note by just looking out the window and the same time each day, seeing where the sun happens to be at the same time each day. It’s pretty cool. Try it!
I have to trumpet the best present I’ve ever longed for and received – a brand spankin’ new telescope! And not just any telescope, my own Celestron NexStar 130SLT! I’ve always lusted after one of these, and now, I OWN ONE. Just in time to see Comet Lovejoy! I’d like to take it outside tonight, as it’s nearest to the earth, but we’ve had some snow and I don’t know if the sky’s going to clear in time. That, and it’s WELL below freezing tonight. Still, that’s the optimal time to gaze at the heavens, because there won’t be any of that nasty haze interfering with the brilliance of the winter nighttime sky.
For those of you who own or have access to telescopes, the best thing about them is how it changes your perspective on what’s up there in the nighttime sky. I had my first one at 12, but then it fell off the roof when I was trying to focus in on Comet Kohoutek. That ended that. Over the years I’ve belonged to astronomy clubs and peeked through fellow amateur astronomers. Now, for the first time in years, I have one that’s powerful enough for me to zoom in on not just the planets, but Messier objects, novas, galaxies, double stars – the works!
My husband used to look up at the evening stars with his father back in his native England. Their back garden in Launceston, Cornwall offered a terrific view, since it was near the top of a hill, without much to obscure the stars. After life at 40.7127° N, 74.0059° W for years, I had a chance to see things at 50.6350° N, 4.3540° W. My eyes, formerly trained to look at my favorite celestial objects at a lower latitude now had to focus somewhere else. That only took a moment, but it also meant that I couldn’t see a few constellations I’d grown used to seeing skirting the horizon at my latitude.
It’s fair to say Andrew’s into this scope just as much as I am. He’s a photographer and this Celestron has the capability for nighttime picture taking. I personally can’t wait to get the thing outside and pointed upwards. Truth be told, I don’t care where I look. There’s sure to be something wonderful when I peer into the eyepiece, and I can’t imagine being disappointed at what I’ll see.
Lately in the news there’s been a lot of buzz about the Orion rocket.
This post, however, is about the constellation and, unlike the rocket, is already in space and will be there pretty much forever, although with the passage of time, he’ll look a little different. But that’s a whole ‘nother topic for another time.
Winter’s chilly skies offer an excellent opportunity to view this bright constellation. When he rises in the east, he almost looks as if he’s climbing a hill, until he reaches the midheavens, and then he starts his journey back down into the west. Right now’s the best time to see him, and he’ll be up right until spring.
Orion’s got plenty of company, too. In his patch of the sky, some of winter’s brightest stars and constellations gather in his neck of the woods. His shoulder (pictured in the upper left hand star in the above rectangle) is Betelgeuse, and his lower right hand foot is Rigel. You can trace a hexagon going up to the right and a touch north to the “V” shape that is the head of Taurus, and the brightest star in the “V” is Aldebaran. Next, cast your eyes up and over slightly left and you’ll come to Capella, the eye of the charioteer Auriga. Going left in almost a straight line, you’ll come to the stick figure twins, whose heads are Castor and Pollux, which are actually the Gemini twin’s names. Next, drop your gaze a little south and to the left and you’ll come to Procyon,the very bright star of Canis Minor, or, the Little Dog. But his big brother, Canis Major, or Big Dog, hosts the brightest star in the sky, Sirius. His basic shape is also a thinner rectangle, and you can easily find Sirius if you trace a southwest path using Orion’s belt as a pointer.
Credit: Dave Snyder
Even if you have trouble finding each of these stars on the first try, you’ll notice that this section of the evening sky stands out more than others, and if you go to this site, you’ll find an explanation and some tips on locating these and other favorites.
But wait – there’s more!
A constellation as grand as Orion simply won’t stop at dominating the winter sky. It’s what’s inside him that makes him even more fascinating.
Look at the picture above and you will see an “N” in the lower half of Orion’s depiction. That’s the Orion Nebula, and although a bit faint, on a clear winter night you should be able to make out a tiny hazy patch. Even with typical field glasses the details of it come out clearer. What makes that nebula so remarkable is what it contains. A solar system nursery is there, wherein a collection of youthful stars and planets in the forming stage are present. The New York Times has an excellent articleand a wonderful video detailing the action swirling around in Orion’s belt.
So don’t just sit there! Put on a jacket, go outside and look up – you’ll be rewarded with heavenly treasure, free and yours for the taking.
Yes, I’ll admit I’m a geek. I married one, too. So of course we felt it necessary to see “Interstellar.” We read up on it, exchanged speculations on the theories behind it, compared different viewpoints, opinions, reviews, all of that. After all of this effort, a sensible decision was cast to go and see it, already.
So last night, after first ducking into Target to purchase some chocolates to stick into our pockets so we wouldn’t have to pay the ridiculous price of $4.oo for a $1.oo candy bar, we went. It was great to go into a theatre filled with our kinds of people, equally geeky and completely silent during the showing, with only the rare murmur of approval over a spectacular scene.
Naturally, we weren’t disappointed. Both of us loved it and spent the ride home discussing it. And I could go on about this, that or the other thing regarding the vagaries of space-time travel and the physics behind it.
Why would I? You know all that anyway.
What got me were the small touches, the little hints of things to come and viewpoints either behind the characters or the writers who invented them. First on my list were the books on the shelves in Murph’s bedroom. How many of you took a good look at them? Here’s two that caught my immediate attention: “The Stand” and “Outlander.”
“Outlander” caught my eye because Diana Gabaldon wrote this book regarding a portal that transports a woman through time, and Stephen King’s “The Stand” because the human race is nearly killed off in that one. Both of those elements were the story in “Interstellar.”
Actually, books do figure prominently in the movie. Take, for example, the school district’s reliance on “corrected versions” of history. The moonwalk was all propaganda to economically bankrupt the Soviet Union. After all, the Soviets never made it to the moon, so that propaganda campaign must have worked. Yet Murph refuses to believe it all and listens to her father, who reinforces the truth.
All that talk about chemical compositions and how it affects environments and circumstances also gave me the goosies. The way how too much nitrogen in an atmosphere isn’t ideal or any atmosphere’s makeup is so sensitive to various forms of life made me smile.
But really, when you get right down to it, the use of time as a resource and element defined the film. Everything from the father Cooper as a younger man visiting his daughter Cooper as she lay dying, much older than he (all right, how many of you also knew that was Ellen Burstyn?), to the astronaut left behind for 23 years when Brand and Cooper seemed to be gone only minutes? Or the gradual shift of Earth from viable to slowly dying, which seemed to take both an interminable and finite amount of time?
I could go on about many, many more things about why we enjoyed “Interstellar” so much, but that would take time, so if you haven’t seen it, take the time and go!
It’s November here in the United States, specifically in New York State. Nothing’s weirder here than the weather this time of year. I’d like to illustrate this point with the following picture:
This was my house last Friday. On first glance, it would appear to be a pleasant scene, just a hint of snow to make things pretty. Upon further inspection, however, the Japanese maple wasn’t through with its leaves. Sure, there’s a neat circle of leaves on top of the snow, creating an artistic touch, but honestly, if the tree had its way, it’d rather let this season pass without having to worry about the next one butting in. “Say, wait,” the Japanese maple thinks, “this is my season – fall – and I’m not finished dumping my leaves just yet. Winter, BACK OFF!”
Yesterday, I arrived at work. My place of employment is next to a river that cuts through a mountain ridge. It’s my practice to check out the river after I park my car. It’s pretty, so it gives me a positive note upon which to begin my day. This is what I saw:
At first glance, I’m thinking this is kind of weird. Is this an alien message? Not quite a corn crop circle, but indeed some sort of symbol. Check it out: it’s a clearly-defined crescent, or even a “C”. Could it even be some sort of map? Within the shape, there’s a few distinct islands floating. Maybe this is a harbor or a bay, and those little shapes floating within could depict landing places, or locals/islands where pickup/dropoffs are designated. Or perhaps someone/thing with a name beginning with “C” is supposed to do a task? Could this be a sign from up and out there, calling for immediate response?
Sure, the rational part of me’s thinking it’s just an eddy and that’s how the water’s flowing as it slowly freezes. But one never knows the messages lying beneath the forces of nature…
For those of you who weren’t awake, aware or available, there was a full eclipse of the moon last night. Now, I’m also one of those who, for various reasons, wasn’t able to cast my eyes skyward and catch the moon at its best. Sometimes the moon just doesn’t seem to take into consideration that many of us are located on the wrong side of the globe (or clock) to be able to glimpse at the glowing red orb up in the nighttime sky.
If ever anyone wanted to be an astronomer and didn’t have the time, patience or ability to go to school for astrophysics, yet wanted to partake of the universe in an engaging and useful way, then Slooh is for you. It’s a membership organization and it isn’t cheap, but anyone will have access to high-powered telescopes in the Canary Island and Chile, plus get in on a myriad of missions. The universe is literally at your desktop.
As a participant, one also joins a community of like-minded individuals who cast their eyes skyward share what they observe. Also, one gets in on all kinds of neat stuff that NASA offers, too. In fact, Slooh engages NASA and a community of citizen astronomers to help with its near Earth asteroid project. So if you see something, you can say something!
I’ve included the below link for those how want to experience the eclipse and/or get a taste of what Slooh can do for you. Enjoy!
I had to share this amazing piece of graphic art by artist Anders Nilsen entitled “Me and the Universe,” appearing in the 9/25/14 edition of The New York Times. It’s an extraordinarily poignant piece, detailing how he came to be from the beginning of time, until memory of his being fades from the living, and concludes with the end of all that is known by intelligent life.
Quite detailed in all respects, with a bit of humor thrown in, it really made me ponder my place in the order of things. Hope you’ll find it as interesting as I did.
Credit: Gretchen Weerheim’s fabulous iPhone, now obsolete as of last week
Just had to show off this spectacular picture of high altitude clouds that I caught on the way to work the other day. I live in an area where there are lots of mountains (not very big ones, but respectable in height) and I have to drive over a ridge. I noticed these clouds as I passed near to that ridge and when I got to the top, I pulled the car over and snapped a few.
If you enlarge it, you will see details of the waves of clouds spinning off little wisps. There was a great deal of turbulence in the upper atmosphere, causing the wave pattern. These are cirrostratus clouds and a weather front was approaching, but the high winds coupled with updraft over mountains added to the instability. It’s almost as if some kind of radical charge was buzzing the cloud bank, making them spike up as they swirled.
Moon, Stars and Beyond 