I could easily see Venus, Jupiter and Aldebaran throughout the twenty minutes I vanely searched for the rising moon.
But I finally gave up looking for the last vestige of the waning moon with ten minutes left before sunrise.
And just before I took the camera off the tripod, I turned it north to capture some pink and purple tinged clouds.
But alas, I spied no moon amid the sea of haze washing up along the eastern horizon. Not surprising since the Kansas City area is under a heat advisory until Saturday evening (four days from now).
When I checked the star chart for the eastern horizon at moonrise later, I realized the moon wouldn’t even reach the five degree mark above the horizon before the sun rose. From the photos I took yesterday morning, I could discern the haze exceeded that height easily, which made an even thinner, dimmer crescent moon that much more difficult to find. I may have set myself an impossible task considering the amount of humidity in the atmosphere during the summer months in Kansas.
Perhaps I’ll have better luck next month capturing the elusive barest glimmer of the waning crescent moon.
I need my head examined. Why else would I suddenly sit up in bed and immediately head to a window in the darkest hour of the night, just to see if an astronomical conjunction was visible yet? And that’s exactly what I did this morning, without the aid of an alarm clock. Some internal portion of my brain must be tapped into some universal system (let’s hope it’s not that Dark Energy that’s making the cosmological headlines lately), because I woke up at 3:55 a.m. earlier today, just so I could photograph two planets, a star and a crescent moon.
A quick peak out my second story east facing window showed something bright glittering through my large oak tree’s leaves. For a better look, I went out the front door and walked halfway down the driveway. Yep, I could clearly see the crescent moon, Jupiter above, and Venus below, as well as the star Aldebaran in the constellation Taurus (although that was the only star I could see in that constellation with my blurry bleary sleepy eyes).
I went back inside and grabbed my camera gear and the keys to the van. I remembered my purse, since I planned to setup the tripod in the cul-de-sac in front of Lansing City Hall and the Police Department. I’ve been questioned more than once by the local ‘protect and serve’ brigade while attempting astrophotography on their front lawn.
I took a couple of shots with the normal lens, but quickly determined I really needed the telephoto. Once I switched the lenses, I could zoom in and capture just the four primary objects in one frame. I took a half dozen photos before returning the gear to the van. At least one police car did cruise by, but he probably didn’t see me ensconced in the dark dead end to his right as he turned left down the hill.
Once I got back home, I went back to bed. Five hours later, I woke up and thought to look at the photos I’d taken while half asleep. I settled on the second to last one I took. Here is that photo (twice … once without labels and once with):
I let Apollo out this morning and looked up (like I always do) and realized the sky was unusually clear, free of haze or clouds. I vaguely remembered reading an astronomy alert on Monday about Jupiter or Venus being less than ten degrees from a bright star (which one I couldn’t remember off the top fo my head). So, I left Apollo in the back yard and traversed the house to the front door on the east side. I stepped outside and had to walk down the steps to get out from under my large black oak tree, which blocks all of the eastern horizon when you look out the front door or windows of my house. Up and to the southeast I easily found the waning moon (see photo above). Turning back to the east, I found a very bright Venus and a somewhat less bright (but not by much) Jupiter directly above it. And just to the lower right of Venus, I could barely see a star twinkling.
I went back in the house and grabbed my camera. The tripod stayed locked in the trunk of the car. I just hoped I could keep steady enough to capture the ‘morning stars’ from the driveway. I took half a dozen shots of Jupiter and Venus and three or four of the waning moon. Then I went inside to review the results.
All but the last photo of Jupiter and Venus were blurry from not using a tripod. Only one photo of the moon, done with some manual fiddling with the shutter and aperture proved to be passably viewable.
I hopped on the Astronomy.com website to access their Star Dome Plus subscriber only star atlas Java application. I needed to determine the name of the star faintly sparkling next to bright Venus. I set the app to look at 45 degrees of the eastern horizon at the time I took the photo (5:35 a.m. Central) and discovered Aldebaran of the constellation Taurus to be the star near our sister planet. Here’s a screenshot of the eastern horizon courtesy of Star Dome Plus:
I quickly edited my one good photo of the ‘morning stars’, rotating the orentation from landscape to portrait and adding some text labels to identify the objects observed. Here are both the unlabelled and labelled versions of that photo:
I did remember to let Apollo back in from his morning soujourn through the backyard. He turned his nose up at his breakfast and climbed up on the couch for his morning nap.
I decided to take a day of vacation from work yesterday. Even though the Transit of Venus wouldn’t start until shortly after five o’clock in the afternoon, I didn’t want to miss any of it, especially the beginning. I wiled away the day reading, baking bread and making strawberry shortcake. I also tested the scope (but not the camera) around noon, getting a clear picture in my mind of the current configuration of our nearest stellar neighor.
As the clock approached four in the afternoon, I laid out all my equipment, sunscreen, sunglasses, umbrella and collapsable chair, making sure I had everything I would need for an observing session that would last several hours on a slightly warmer than normal and sunny June afternoon. My prayers had been answered in part, at least, for clear skies (releatively clear, except for some humidity, haziness and wispy stratus clouds). I proved to be my own worst enemy, though, because while washing my hair, I managed to get an entire palmful of shampoo in my right eye, which happens to be my ‘good’ eye – the one I use to focus and observe with. My eye watered for the rest of the day, but at least didn’t appear to have any problems focusing.
I packed everything in the car and had my husband drive me to my previously selected observing spot. It’s my new favorite location for observing and photographing day-time astronomical events that require an unobstructed view of the western horizon (and it’s close to home so I don’t spend time and gas money to get there). In the last few weeks from this spot, I’ve observed a solar eclipse, earthshine on the moon (with Venus nearby), a lunar eclipse and yesterday my first (and only) Venus transit. I unpacked the equipment, said goodbye to my husband (who would return later to catch a glimpse of the ‘black dot’ that would be Venus crossing the sun) and started setting up the scope. My dad joined me, sometime between 4:30 and 5:00 p.m., as he got tied up with rush hour traffic on US-73 southbound from north Leavenworth to south Lansing.
I had parked the scope when I used it around noon, leaving it in a polar mount configuration. I knew I wouldn’t be able to re-align it to Polaris when I transported it from my backyard to this other site, but I could get ‘in the ballpark’ enough to track the sun and take photographs. The most challenging aspect of taking photographs through the Meade ETX-90 with the Pentax K100D attached to it is focusing. The viewfinder on the camera presents a very small ‘live’ view of the object (in this case the filtered image of the sun). The sunspots, which appeared very large and distinct when observing through the telescopes eyepiece under magnification, were tiny pinpricks through the camera. Focusing became easier once the large black dot of Venus appeared, but before that, resolving the sunspots proved troublesome. With that in mind, here’s a photo from immediately prior to the transit of Venus commencing:
I choose this location also in the hopes that people would see me on the hill overlooking Main Street and stop by to have a look (or at least ask me what the heck I thought I was doing so I could then explain and convince them to take a look). Over the course of the next three hours, I had between fifteen and twenty people stop and take a look at the transit through my telescope. The first group to stop had seen me there before, back in May for the solar eclipse. I asked them to wait a couple of minutes because I was taking a serious of photographs to capture the first and second contacts of Venus:
One of the last group included an entire family who had seen me on their way to a baseball game (for their young son) and stopped on the way back after the game. They pursuaded their grandmother to leave the car and take a look. By that time though, the sun had entered some thicker clouds and was close to setting, so the light getting through the solar filter created a dim red hazy image, but Venus’ black sillouette was still clearly visible.
After the sun set, Dad and I packed up the equipment and said our goodbyes. We were both tired, from standing, sometimes bending over, occasionally sitting, but always baking in the late afternoon June sun. I went home, ate some leftovers, grabbed 140 photos off my cameras memory card and selected one or two to upload and share with friends and family. I didn’t have the energy last night to review so many photos. I called my daughter, who lives in Texas, to see if she had a chance to witness the transit. She reported she did, as her university setup several scopes near their Environment Sciences lab building and she got to see the sun through a hydrogen-alpha filter (which I am saving up for as they are not cheap). I also tuned in to NASA’s live feed both on my laptop and via DirecTV (channel 289) for a few minutes before succumbing to my need for sleep.
First thing this morning when I awoke, I began sifting through the photos and settled on thirty-nine good shots to upload and share. I discovered, though, that I have some debris on my camera mirror and will need to have it cleaned. See if you can find the debris that looks like a sunspot but travels around the surface of the sun (but not the frame of the picture).
Later this week, I will attempt to qualify for an observing certificate from NASA using the Paralax Activity Method #1 (I can’t do the other two because I only witnessed about half of the transit before the sun set). But first I’ll read and review the Mathematics of the Transit of Venus to make sure my aging brain remembers college math.
I am so glad I had the opportunity to witness the Transit of Venus. I sincerely hope you took advantage to sneak a peak. Only our grandkids (or great-grandkids) will see the next one, in 2117.
One week from this Tuesday, at exactly 5:09 p.m. Central, Venus will begin it’s transit across the sun. This is a once-in-a-lifetime observation opportunity and it is visible to nearly the entire world, so there really isn’t any excuse to miss it. I checked the ten day weather forecast and as of Sunday, May 27th, the predicted whether looks favorable for the Kansas City area.
I will have my telescope (with appropriate eye-saving solar filters applied) setup in Lansing, Kansas, probably by 4:00 pm on Tuesday, June 5th. Post a comment if you would like to join me.
Three other locations around the Kansas City area will be hosted by the ASKC (see bottom of post for more information).
Once in a great while, Venus can pass directly between the Sun and Earth. Only the planets Mercury and Venus can do this, since they are the only two planets closer to the Sun than Earth. When they do, they appear as small black dots crossing the face of the Sun over a period of several hours.
When is the transit of Venus?
From the Kansas City area, it will begin at 5:09 PM CDT on Tuesday, June 5th, and continue until sunset, which will be around 8:41 PM. Weather permitting, we will see 53% of the entire transit before sunset.
Why is the transit of Venus such a special event?
Because of the size and slightly different tilt of the orbits of Venus and Earth, a transit does not happen every time Venus passes between the Sun and Earth; it’s almost always “above” or “below” the Sun when it reaches what is called inferior conjunction. In a 243-year cycle, there are only 4 transits. They occur at very uneven intervals – the last one was in June of 2004, but the next one isn’t until December of 2117, 105 ½ years from now!
Historically, timings of transits of Venus were carried out in the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries to trigonometrically calculate the size of the orbit of Venus, which when applied to Kepler’s 3rd law of planetary motion, determined the absolute (rather than relative) size of every other orbit in the Solar System. This was actually the best way to measure distances in the Solar System until radar and space probes became available in the latter half of the 20th century.
How can I observe the transit of Venus?
You can make a pinhole projector with a couple of pieces of card stock or a small cardboard box; just poke a small hole in one of the pieces or one end of the box, and position it such that it casts a small image of the Sun on the other piece or the other end of the box.
It will be a lot easier to see, though, through a suitable filter, either with your unaided eye or binoculars or a telescope completely covered by a full-aperture filter. Safe filters are available at HMS Beagle, a science store at English Landing in Parkville.
Where will there be organized viewing of the transit of Venus?
There will be at least 3 organized events in the Kansas City area:
The ASKC will also open Warkoczewski Observatory at UMKC, on the roof of Royall Hall. Park on the 4th level of the parking structure on the southwest corner of 52nd & Rockhill and take the skywalk into Royall, then up 2 flights of stairs to the roof.
For the third day in a row this week, I planned an evening excursion to photograph astronomical objects converging on the western horizon during twilight. The people living along First Street on the hill above Main Street in Lansing probably think I’m crazy, camping out on the sidewalk with either a telescope or a camera on a tripod for hours on end.
But of course, I got home around five thirty to a distraction, albeit a pleasant one. Rachelle had cooked dinner for Terry and I and invited Grandpa over. Tuesday was her last full day visiting us. She returns to North Texas today. She created a marinara sauce from scratch, prepared tri-colored rotini pasta, sauteed some kale and created a fresh green salad from baby spinach and baby romaine. I created some garlic cheese bread from a fresh loaf I baked on Sunday. We definitely got our quota of veggies yesterday!
After supper, my dad and I retired to the backyard with my camera and my telephoto lens. He had created a solar filter from the same film he used to create the larger filter for the telescope (used during Sunday’s solar eclipse observations). He attached it to the telephoto lens and I took a couple of shots of the sun before it sunk below my neighbor’s roof line.
We returned inside to find Terry napping (aka food coma) and Rachelle watching YouTube videos of her choir performance from last winter. I put the camera back in the bag and told everyone I was leaving to photograph the sunset, the crescent moon and Venus. Dad tagged along, since he had to head north to return home anyway.
I setup the tripod and camera near where I photographed the sunset Monday evening, moving a few feet further down the hill on the sidewalk to the south. I was looking for a less obstructed angle to the western horizon, trying to avoid some intervening trees. I took several shots as the sun set, but was really just killing time until Venus appeared, followed by the crescent moon.
The faintness of the crescent moon surprised me. I thought I would be able to see the moon before I could see Venus, but that was definitely not the case last night. The haze and wispy clouds made it difficult to discern the slim sliver of the moon, while Venus blazed like a pinprick laser, even before the sun set. As noted above, this is the last time the moon and Venus will pass this close to each other this year. And since in less than two weeks, Venus crosses the face of the sun, just as the Moon did two days ago, I declared a game of tag between the two of them. Venus is “It” for at least the next fortnight.
I packed up the photographic equipment and said goodnight to my dad. I returned home and immediately went to bed. I would download the photos from the SD card in the morning.
I only snoozed through one alarm this morning. I woke up Terry’s computer and downloaded the photos. I spent about thirty minutes sifting through the shots, discarding some really horrible overexposed yellow sunset chaff. I hand picked a dozen or so sunset and moon shots. I uploaded the first group and created a sunset album. I attempted to upload the second group of the Moon and Venus photos, but kept having errors. I tried and retried until I almost made myself late picking up my vanpool riders. I grabbed the SD card, stuffed it in my purse and ran out the door. I left the annoying home computer attempting to upload the photos while I commuted to work. I discovered some of the photos actually did upload, but not all of them. Enough of them, though, for me to get this blog post started and published. So, check back later today or tomorrow to see the rest of the photos (just click on the images above to see the rest of the photos in the albums).
I think I’m done with amateur astrophotography for the week. I need to get back to my walking regimen. I even forgot to put my pedometer on this morning, which I haven’t done in months. Apollo will miss Rachelle, so I need to distract him from moping around the house and return to our evening walks around Lansing.
Monday afternoon I returned home from work all psyched up and ready to catch a glimpse of the new moon, the baby one, the one that’s barely twenty-four hours old. I kept one eye on the sky all day, getting a bit perturbed at it’s pristine blueness compared to yesterday’s puffy whiteness competing with the solar eclipse. I muttered to myself on the drive home, but immediately became distracted when I pulled in the driveway to find my husband inserting a new headlamp light blub in the Bonneville. I asked him to replace it because I discovered on my midnight ride home from Powell Observatory Saturday that my left one had burnt out.
As I entered the garage, Terry stopped at the garage door and looked at me expectantly. I raised my left eyebrow in my classic Spock impersonation and gazed around trying to discern what I missed. My eyes fell on the area of the second garage bay where we store the lawnmower. I gasped in surprise as I spied a brand new shiny red pushmower.
Any thoughts of moon catching fled from my brain. The mower begged to be test driven (literally since it’s a self-propelled model). I spent a half hour acquainting myself with the mower in the backyard. Despire popping a couple of wheelies, I liked the way the new mower conquered the grass and the terrain.
My mind got back on track with my moon hunt as eight o’clock approached. I asked Rachelle if she wanted to accompany me to my observing site, ostensibly to get Apollo out of the house on a short walk as well. She agreed readily. I grabbed the camera gear and tripod and placed them in the trunk, while Rachelle let Apollo jump in the back seat of the Bonneville.
I remembered to check the time of sunset for Monday evening (8:30 p.m.) but forgot to confirm the time of moonset. I later learned (upon returning home to my laptop) that moonset occurred shortly after 9:20 p.m. Since I rushed my daughter out of the house, she left her smartphone there. She has a nifty app that functions as an interactive ‘live’ star atlas and would have helped me locate the baby moon playing peekaboo behind the clouds.
I setup the camera and tripod and took over seventy photos of the sunset and twilight in the vain hope that even if I couldn’t find the baby moon with my naked eye, I might capture it ‘on film’ and find it later when I download the photos from the camera. I stayed until nine o’clock, not knowing I still had twenty more minutes to try to find the moon, as the twilight faded away and Venus continued to brighten. My daughter convinced me the haze and few wispy clouds clinging to the western horizon obscured the moon, preventing me from seeing it’s slim sliver of a crescent.
I waited until Tuesday morning to download the photos and review them. Try as I might, I could not find the crescent moon. I even verified the location of the moon in relation to the sun and Venus for the time period I observed Monday evening. I still feel I should have been able to find it, but perhaps it was the haze, thin clouds and lingering twilight that thwarted my efforts.
I snagged a few (more than a few actually, but I won’t inundated you with them) photos of the sunset, which continued to glow bright pink, orange and purple thirty minutes after the sun dipped below the horizon.
Once in a great while, Venus can pass directly between the Sun and Earth. Only the planets Mercury and Venus can do this, since they are the only two planets closer to the Sun than Earth. When they do, they appear as small black dots crossing the face of the Sun over a period of several hours.
When is the transit of Venus?
From the Kansas City area, it will begin at 5:09 PM CDT on Tuesday, June 5th, and continue until sunset, which will be around 8:41 PM. Weather permitting, we will see 53% of the entire transit before sunset.
Why is the transit of Venus such a special event?
Because of the size and slightly different tilt of the orbits of Venus and Earth, a transit does not happen every time Venus passes between the Sun and Earth; it’s almost always “above” or “below” the Sun when it reaches what is called inferior conjunction. In a 243-year cycle, there are only 4 transits. They occur at very uneven intervals – the last one was in June of 2004, but the next one isn’t until December of 2117, 105 ½ years from now!
Historically, timings of transits of Venus were carried out in the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries to trigonometrically calculate the size of the orbit of Venus, which when applied to Kepler’s 3rd law of planetary motion, determined the absolute (rather than relative) size of every other orbit in the Solar System. This was actually the best way to measure distances in the Solar System until radar and space probes became available in the latter half of the 20th century.
How can I observe the transit of Venus?
You can make a pinhole projector with a couple of pieces of card stock or a small cardboard box; just poke a small hole in one of the pieces or one end of the box, and position it such that it casts a small image of the Sun on the other piece or the other end of the box.
It will be a lot easier to see, though, through a suitable filter, either with your unaided eye or binoculars or a telescope completely covered by a full-aperture filter. Safe filters are available at HMS Beagle, a science store at English Landing in Parkville.
Where will there be organized viewing of the transit of Venus?
There will be at least 3 organized events in the Kansas City area:
The Astronomical Society of Kansas City will open Powell Observatory in Louisburg. A map and directions are at http://askc.org/images/powell_map.jpg.
The ASKC will also open Warkoczewski Observatory at UMKC, on the roof of Royall Hall. Park on the 4th level of the parking structure on the southwest corner of 52nd & Rockhill and take the skywalk into Royall, then up 2 flights of stairs to the roof.
Kansas Citizens for Science, with assistance from ASKC members, will host observing from the rooftop of Coach’s Bar & Grill, 9089 W. 135th, Overland Park.
Terry and I took advantage of exceptional late April weather to enjoy (and photograph) a gorgeous sunset:
And I took advantage of the new moon’s crescent being near the crescent of Venus to capture this series of photographs:
While you can’t tell it from the photo above, Venus is also a crescent, just like the New Moon. Terry and I both saw Venus easily a good fifteen or twenty minutes before the sun set.
Even though Friday dawned overcast and gloomy, by noon, I could see bits of blue among the dissolving puffs of grey and white. I received an early confirmation e-mail from ASKC announcing the ‘go live’ time for the astronomy club’s star party at Powell Observatory in Louisburg, Kansas. I had already invited Dad to come as my guest and not only because Terry already had plans. The weather forecast predicted clear skies, but cold temperatures, reaching mid-40s by midnight on the observing field.
I left work at the usual time and retrieved all my riders, returning them safely home without delay. Not even the race activities at the Kansas Speedway slowed me down when I dropped off my first rider, who lives within spitting distance of that facility. We all could hear the cars racing around the track, not for a race, but more likely for practice or qualifying.
I got home and realized I had forgotten to print a map with directions from Lansing to Louisburg and wrangled Terry into printing one for me. While I was waiting on the printout, my Dad arrived, bringing me a beautiful rose from his garden. He placed it smack dab in the center of my table, but I didn’t notice it until I knocked over the vase with my camera bag. Then, I mistakenly thought Terry had stolen a rose from one of our neighbors. Dad had a hard time not laughing himself silly, especially since he tried to let Terry take the credit for the impromptu flower appearance. I thanked Dad for the gift while I mopped up the spilled water with a spare towel.
I changed clothes, grabbed a sweater with a hood, my scarf, my gloves, a gallon of water, my water bottle, my camera bag and tripod and my purse. Dad already had the rest of the gear in his trunk. We rolled south out of Lansing by a quarter to six. We stopped briefly in Bonner Springs for a quick supper and continued down K-7 to Shawnee Mission Parkway, then to I-435 and eventually US-69. Louisburg is less than twenty miles south of Overland Park, so once we rounding the curve where I-35 crosses I-435 (where the mile markers for I-435 start at zero (0) and end at eight-three (3), we had less than a half hour of driving to reach the observatory. We pulled into the park just a bit after seven o’clock in the evening.
The star party organizer for the ASKC was already on site. He greeted us and we all began debating where to setup on the observing field around Powell. He was concerned about a baseball game or practice that appeared to be occurring on a ball field just northwest of the site. He drove over and asked the participants if they planned to turn on the field lights. He returned to confirm the lights would be on until 9:30 p.m. Thus, all of us decided to setup on the east side of the Powell Observatory building, letting it block the lights to help protect our night vision.
Dad and I unpacked the gear and hauled it across the observing field to a spot just southeast of the dome. I setup my camera and tripod to take a couple of photos of the sunset.
As predicted, the lights lit up the field, and competed with the glow of Kansas City sufficing the northern horizon. Dad and I waited patiently (him more than me) for enough stars to pop forth to attempt an alignment of the telescope. While we waited, I took a few more photos of the western horizon, mostly to capture the very bright Venus.
Soon after we spotted Venus, Sirius made its appearance in the southwestern sky. Once Arcturus crested over the trees in the northeast, we used both those stars for an alignment of the ETX-90 via the Autostar device. We did a quick tour of the four visible planets, starting with Venus. Even though Venus is a thinning crescent (as it moves towards us and between the Earth and the Sun), it is almost too bright to look at. Without adding a filter to the eyepiece, I couldn’t look directly at it for more than a few seconds. Next we caught Jupiter before it set in the west. I spotted all four moons, but only for the first few minutes. As it sunk closer and closer to the horizon, the haze and humidity obscured all but the planet itself from visibility.
Next we swung the telescope back to the southeast, but nearly directly overhead (about ten or eleven o’clock above us) to view Mars. While I debated internally what higher magnification eyepiece to insert, the star party organizer joined Dad and I at our telescope. He commented that he had owned a similar scope in years past and affirmed it was a good scope for planetary and lunar observing. He took a quick look through the eyepiece at Mars and moved on to the next person on the field. One of my goals for the evening was to decide if the small ETX-90 would allow me to view any deep sky objects (galaxies in particular).
Our final planetary tour stop landed on Saturn, which crested over the trees soon after we finished observing Mars. I easily found Titan, Saturn’s largest moon, but could not discern the gap(s) between the rings, even after adding the two times Barlow to the 25mm eyepiece I prefer to use.
Orion had his left foot on the western horizon as I swung the scope back to the southwest for a quick peak at the Great Orion Nebula. As far as I could tell, it looked similar to what I had seen from my back yard in late March. At that time, Orion’s Sword appeared much higher in the sky and I looked through less atmosphere (but had more light pollution in Lansing). But the combination of less light, yet more atmosphere gave me basically the same observing experience.
At this point, I took a break to spare my aching feet and sat in one of the chairs Dad had brought along. The north wind had died off by this time, but I couldn’t seem to get my toes enough circulation. The rest of me, my head, hands, upper body and legs, were fine. But my toes continued to be a distraction and eventually a source of chilling pain. I used my red flashlight to review several star charts in my pocket sky atlas, searching for a deep sky object that would be (hopefully) visible via my small scope. I settled on the Whirlpool Galaxy found near the first star (Alkaid) in the handle of the Big Dipper. As you can see in the chart above, just below and to the right of Alkaid is where you should find the Whirlpool Galaxy. Even with a red dot viewfinder to help, neither Dad nor I could locate the galaxy. It only has a magnitude of 8.4, and I fear the increasing glow from Kansas City to our north and the rising humidity as the temperature dropped to the dew point conspired against our efforts.
Before I could pick up my pocket sky atlas to find some other deep sky object to try, the star party organizer returned, asking us if we wanted to see the Leo Triplet, three galaxies visible all at the same time. While not as clear as the photo at the left, I did see all three galaxies through his telescope in one field of view. Amazing! Once I returned to my scope, I directed it to find Mars (which still hovers near Leo) to confirm the alignment and then told it to find M65 (one of the two galaxies on the right hand side of the photo above. I believe I saw a grey smudge or two, but not the third fainter elongated galaxy (on the left above). Since Leo still appeared directly overhead, and Louisburg to the southeast does not sport nearly as much light as Kansas City to the north, I had good conditions for seeing such faint objects (magnitude 9 and 10).
At this point, I could barely stand on my aching chilled feet any longer. I sat for a few minutes, letting my eyes wonder around the sky in hopes of seeing a few meteors. I did see two. I asked Dad if there was anything else he wanted to observe. I think he returned to Saturn for a final look at the ringed giant. After that, we dismantled the equipment and packed it back up (all in the dark with a dying red flash light). We made several trips across the observing field to the car.
As Dad started up the car (and I turned the heat for the passenger side all the way up to red hot), the clock on the dash flashed 11:00 p.m. We pulled out of the parking lot with only our parking lights on (to minimize light for those still observing) and stopped at McDonalds so I could buy a mocha. All three convenience stores in Louisburg had closed (not extremely convenient for us obviously). We retraced our route up US-69, through Overland Park, to I-435 and took Parallel Parkway back to K-7 and arrived back in Lansing just after midnight.
After this excursion, I believe I need to start saving my pennies for an upgrade. I still plan to use the ETX-90 to observe the Transit of Venus. The small scope is actually a boon for observing our closest star, Sol and our sister planet, Venus. I just need the solar filter film, currently on back order, to prevent damage to my eyes and the scope.
Soon after I returned home from work Tuesday evening, Terry suggested that we take Apollo to the dog park. I briefly thought of just taking Apollo for a walk around the neighborhood, but my legs kept shaking from the first workout I’d done in nearly a week. I capitulated and led Apollo out to the car on the long leather leash. We arrived at the dog park a bit after seven o’clock. We only saw four other dogs in the ‘large dogs’ side of the park. As I took Apollo off his leash, he loped over to two dogs, one of which was leashed, to make some new friends. Those two were on the way home, so that left only two other dogs to meet and greet.
We wondered around the back half of the park, strolling leisurely through the trees and watching the sun slowly sink in the west. As we continued on towards the southwest corner of the park, I remembered an article I read recently that stated I should be able to see Venus during daylight hours this week. I placed my right hand between my eyes and the sun and looked up away and to the left. For the first few minutes, I could not see Venus. But I kept trying and eventually, I found it, shining brightly more than thirty or forty degrees away from the sun, with the sun still about five degrees above the western horizon. You can estimate degrees while observing astronomical objects by using the width of your fist from top to bottom held at arm’s length, which equals about 10 degrees.
I tried to take a photo of Venus and the setting sun with my cell phone camera, but upon review, I can’t find Venus in the shot I took. I’m not entirely convinced I succeeded in getting both the planet and our sun in the same field of view. My reading glasses were in my purse in the car, so I took a leap of faith and prayed I succeeded when I clicked the shutter (or whatever virtual equivalent my cell phone camera sports). Here’s the photo, but I can’t find Venus in it:
I tried to direct Terry to spotting Venus, but his prescription sunglasses were too dark and too out-of-date to be of much help. I sent a Tweet from my phone as soon as I found Venus and spent the next few minutes enjoying the view.
We wondered back east along the fence and met up with the other two dogs. A squirrel taunted them from a few feet away on the other side of the fence. One of the dogs, some sort of hunting breed, kept barking at the squirrel, who ignored all the dogs.
The sun began setting and we herded Apollo towards the gate. The dog park is only open from sunrise to sunset so our brief play time rapidly came to an end. We made sure Apollo got a good drink of water before loading him back into the car and returning home.