Sometimes I like to write about things in the sky that I've been studying. Sometimes I like to write about scientific discoveries in the outer solar system. Sometimes I even write about wild speculations I have about the solar system. But, every once in a while, I get to just sit back and watch the sky go by.
I love comets. When I first started graduate school to get my Ph.D. in astronomy, I wanted to study the most distant galaxies in the world. But my Ph.D. advisor really wanted me to start by doing a project studying a comet (actually, he wanted
all of his graduate students to start with comets, because no one stuck with them; they jumped to galaxies as fast as they could). I fell in love with comets. Mostly, I think, I fell in love with the fact that you could use huge telescope to study things in the sky that you could actually see with your eyes or with binocular or with a camera. Things that were
real.
So I was pretty excited
about the prospect of Comet Panstarrs close to the tiny tiny crescent moon tonight. We have a great western horizon from my house and I was pretty sure we would have good views. Scientifically, I have nothing at stake. I'm not involved in any attempts to look at the comet with telescopes big or small, on the ground or in space. I just wanted to see it.
So I waited.
The tiny crescent moon was going to be easier to see, so up and down, back and forth, with binoculars I searched.
THERE! It was, 25 minutes after sunset, higher than I thought. This was good news. It would be a good ~30 minutes before the comet set. Long enough that even my daughter Lilah would be able to see it.
(Lilah uses a placemat every day that has astronomy pictures [including, yes, Planet Pluto. It was a present. Really] on it, including comets. She is really really excited about seeing one in real life).
I had set out the camera and tripod earlier, and started taking long exposures, hoping to capture the comet. I kept seeing something. Maybe. To the left. Where I knew it should. Be. But? Well? I dunno.
Until, finally, jackpot:
See it? Barely? Something like 6 lunar diameters to the left of the moon?
And, I should mention, that I spend much less time than I should staring at the thin thin thin crecent moon with binoculars. It was
spectacular. And it is monthly. Missed it tonight? Go next month.
The moon and comet slowly set in the west, while the sky got darker. Here, now, are a series of pictures where I just got to be a sky tourist. No big telescopes, no data collection, just me, a telephoto, a camera, my family [yes! Diane and Lilah both saw it! They were both a little shocked that they could actually
see a comet!]. Here we go.
I love the view out my backyard. Particularly tonight.
It got lower and lower (and in the traffic pattern of LAX)
I love the palm trees on the horizon. Yup. I live in LA.
Finally it set.
I'll try again all this week from Hawaii, where I will be for the 20th anniversary of the opening of the Keck Observatory. It will seem a little more like science, though. There is something magical about looking from your backyard and seeing a visitor from far far far far beyond the Kuiper belt. And a spectacular moon.
The last shot I got, before I had to take Lilah in, read her a bed time story, and pack for Hawaii, looks like this:
There's a lot of murk between us and the moon, and us and the comet. But, really, it's just another night here in LA, as the sky darkens, the stars come out, and the world bustles underneath.