Sunday, March 25, 2012

More moons than ours in this conjunction


Tonight, and for the next couple of nights, Earth's Moon joins this spring's conjunction of Jupiter and Venus in our western evening sky. Tonight the clouds cleared just in time for the show and I stepped outdoors, tripod-mounted camera in hand, to record the sight as best I could. The three objects, on the list of brightest in the night sky, formed a very elongated triangle with Jupiter and the Moon forming the base, and brilliant Venus at the peak. The three were visible in bright twilight but really came into their own around 8:30 EDT. Later, as I processed my photos, I was surprised and delighted to see I not had captured Venus, Jupiter, and the Moon but, in a tighter shot, a couple of Jupiter's moons as well! The nighttime portion of the Moon's face is lit by Earthshine. Canon EOS 50D: ISO 800, f/4, 1/4 sec., 200mm — James Guilford, 8:34 PM EDT, March 25, 2012

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Mars mystique strikes again!

I arrived at Stephens Memorial Observatory early in order to sweep up the inevitable accumulations of bird poo and nesting materials that blow down from the dome's ill-sealed shutter. The first of the evening's surprises happened when I touched the pull rope to open the shutter to a then-clear sky. I heard scratching sounds -- usually the sign of birds roosting and nesting above. In the spring time, especially, I hate the sounds of bird activity at Stephens; birds build their nests, lay their eggs, and rear their young in a space that becomes precarious when the dome's shutter is opened. In recent years we usually see one brood (eggs, chicks, or unfledged young) lost due to falling from a destroyed nest or trapped inside the dome. This time, however, I glanced above and was momentarily shocked for I saw a black, furry animal scrambling to escape and prevent a fall. Skunk!? Er, no. The frightened furry was one of Hiram's many black squirrels. I've never seen a squirrel in the dorm or in the shutter and hope they don't nest there but maybe they'll keep the birds from nesting. I'm hoping for the best, anyway.

Cleaning barely complete, the telescope uncovered and prepped for the first Open Night of the year, I decided to try my chances at seeing Venus. The planet has recently been in conjunction with Jupiter in the Western evening sky and, though below the neighboring treeline, the trees were bare and I could spy brilliant Venus between the branches! Yes! For the first time at Stephens I was able to see Venus, resolved as a half-lit disk! Then the evening's first visitors arrived... three young ladies and their grandmother, half an hour early. I offered them a look at Venus but, by then, the planet had slipped behind a tree trunk and could not be seen. Oh well, let's see if we can view the Orion Nebula, barely above the trees in the southwest and now visible in the darkening sky.

I swung the big refractor around, found the nebula, and focused. Not bad for a twilight view: the veil of the nebula was visible and several stars of the Trapezium were nestled within. I offered the girls a look at M42. Er, no. In that brief time between adjusting the telescope and fetching a ladder for the kids, clouds covered Orion. Eeek! All right then, we'll go to the other part of the sky and look for Mars, now glowing red in the east and not long after opposition.

Mars, 67 million miles away this night, quickly came into view as a crisply-defined coppery disk. Unfortunately there was only a hint of mottling within the disk, no clear indication of surface features. Grandma and the girls got decent looks at the Red Planet before, yes, those pesky clouds engulfed it! By then other visitors began to arrive. The sky became overcast with occasional "sucker holes" and thin spots. Well, this will be a short night, I thought.

I answered questions, recounted the history of the telescope, talked about the Observatory, all the while watching the sky and keeping at the telescope. When Mars would penetrate the gloom, I'd  re-aim the scope, call people over to look, they would see an even less-distinct reddish disk, and it would disappear. Apologies. And so it went for the entire evening. There was no sense in trying to chase the holes and point at some star or other that managed to be briefly seen through the overcast. Still, more visitors dropped in.

Over the course of the evening we counted 42 visitors, most or all of whom caught a glimpse of Mars. They were, to a person, patient and good-humored making it a pleasant night that ended with the last departing around 10:30.

Not long after that, as I was deciding whether to close early, the clouds parted overhead exposing a deep, dark sky! The night was filled with stars and with my unaided eyes I was able to make out the Beehive star cluster (M44) nearly overhead. It was beautiful through binoculars. No more visitors, however, so I closed the place up.

Everyone could see it was an overcast sky as they headed out to visit us. They could see a star or two, only occasionally at best, and still they came. Such is the draw held by the mystique of Mars!

We'll try again April 14.