StarDate

The waning Moon anchors a beautiful lineup in tomorrow’s early-morning sky. At dawn, the star Regulus – the heart of the lion – is close above the Moon. The brilliant planet Jupiter is to the upper right of the Moon, with Mars a little farther along the same line.

Mars and Jupiter are the fourth and fifth planets from the Sun, with Jupiter about three times farther out. The gap between them is more than 300 million miles. But that space is far from empty. Instead, it’s home to the asteroid belt – a wide band of debris.

So far, astronomers have cataloged about one-and-a-half million objects in the belt. The largest is about 600 miles across. The smallest are about the size of a bus. But the suspected population is far larger. There could be more than a million that are at least one kilometer in diameter, and millions upon millions of smaller ones.

Current theories say the belt probably is debris from a planet that never was. Many of the solid chunks of material that came together to form the planets inhabited the region when the solar system was young. Left on their own, they might have come together to make a planet. But Jupiter’s gravity kept that from happening. It kicked many of the pieces out of the solar system. And it stirred up the others, preventing them from coalescing – filling the space between Mars and Jupiter with a bunch of leftovers from the birth of the planets.

Script by Damond Benningfield

There’s a spectacular lineup in the wee hours of the morning the next couple of days: the Moon, the planets Mars and Jupiter, and the star Regulus. The entire lineup climbs into good view by 1:30 or 2, and is high in the sky at first light.

Tomorrow, the Moon will be especially close to Mars. At their closest, they’ll be about one degree apart – the width of a pencil held at arm’s length. The planet looks like a bright star. But it might be tough to see its orange color through the moonlight.

Mars is the fourth planet from the Sun – the next one out beyond Earth. It’s also the Sun’s fourth-smallest planet – a little more than half the diameter of Earth.

Jupiter stands below them as they climb skyward. It’s much brighter than Mars. In fact, it’s brighter than anything else in the night sky other than the Moon and Venus, which is pulling into view as the “morning star.”

Jupiter is the next planet out. And it’s the largest planet in the solar system – about 11 times Earth’s diameter. That’s one reason it looks so bright, even though it’s about three times farther than Mars.

Regulus is about the same distance below Jupiter. It’s the faintest member of the lineup. But it’s one of the brighter true stars in the night sky, so you won’t have any trouble picking it out. It represents the heart of Leo. The Moon will stand especially close to it on Tuesday, and we’ll have more about that tomorrow.

Script by Damond Benningfield

Ghosts and demons roam the Halloween night. Vampires and zombies are there, too. So are black widows and Gorgons, witches and snakes and dragons – enough scary creatures to fill a galaxy of haunted houses. You’ll see some of them wandering the streets in search of treats. And if you look up, they’re all there in the stars.

As night falls, the star Algol is in the northeast, in Perseus the hero. Its name means “the demon star.” It represents Medusa, a monster who turned anyone who looked at her to stone. Her sisters – the other Gorgons – are represented by some fainter stars around Algol.

The constellation Cetus is low in the east and southeast. It represents a sea monster that was defeated by Perseus – using the head of Medusa.

The Witch Head Nebula climbs into view in late evening. It’s a cloud of gas and dust that’s being both illuminated and sculpted by Rigel, the brightest star of Orion. Through a telescope, it really does look like the profile of a witch.

Many “ghosts” float through the sky as well. They’re star clusters or the last gasps of dying stars – named for their ghostly appearance.

The vampires and zombies and black widows are all “dead” stars that are sucking the life from their companion stars. They’re all invisible – none of them is bright enough to see with the eye alone. But they’re sprinkled through the galaxy, haunting the skies of Halloween night – and every other night as well.

Script by Damond Benningfield

Several of the brightest stars in the night sky are really systems of at least two stars. But only one of those systems is known to contain six stars: Castor, the fainter “twin” of Gemini. It’s to the left of the gibbous Moon as they climb into good view late tonight, and to the upper left of Gemini’s brighter twin, Pollux.

Seen across 50 light-years of space, the light from all six stars blurs together to form a single point. But binoculars reveal two points, known as Castor A and Castor B. Castor A is the brighter of the two. Because of our viewing angle, the distance between the two pairs is getting bigger, so it’s easier to see them as separate points of light.

It turns out that A and B are both binaries – each of them consists of two stars. The stars in each pair are quite close together, so there’s no way to see them individually. Instead, their dual nature is revealed only by sensitive instruments.

One star in each pair is bigger, hotter, and brighter than the Sun. The other star in each pair is much smaller, cooler, and fainter than the Sun – a cosmic ember known as a red dwarf.

Castor’s third pair is Castor C. It’s a long way away from the other two. And both of its stars are red dwarfs, so the pair is quite faint – you need a telescope to pick it out. Even so, it helps make Castor the busiest bright star system in the night sky – three pairs of “twins” for the twins’ constellation.

Script by Damond Benningfield

The tiny moons of Mars are hard to explain. Scientists aren’t sure how they formed and how they wound up in their current orbits. But a Japanese mission that launched this month could settle the conundrum.

The mission is MMX – Mars Moons Exploration. It will scan both Phobos and Deimos – chunks of rock the size of a small city. And it will land on Phobos, gathering samples for return to Earth.

Both moons are dark, like a class of asteroids. In fact, astronomers long suspected they were captured asteroids. In this scenario, rocky “leftovers” from the birth of the planets flew close to Mars. The planet was surrounded by a cloud of gas and dust. As Phobos and Deimos passed through it, the cloud acted as a brake, slowing them enough for Mars to grab them.

But it’s not easy for a planet to capture an asteroid. And the orbits of the moons aren’t like those of the captured asteroids of the giant outer planets.

So scientists came up with another model: a giant impact. A massive space rock could have slammed into Mars, blasting out material that formed a ring around the equator. The debris coalesced to form several small moons. Phobos and Deimos are the only survivors.

In yet another scenario, Mars captured a single large asteroid. It was sheared apart by Martian gravity, creating a ring that gave birth to Phobos and Deimos. MMX will arrive at Mars next year – a big step toward solving the mystery of the Martian moons.

Script by Damond Benningfield

In Gulliver’s Travels, which was published 300 years ago today, Jonathan Swift wrote that the people of Laputa had made an important discovery: “two lesser stars, or satellites, which revolve about Mars.” The fictional moons were small and close to the surface, orbiting the Red Planet in a matter of hours.

Earthly astronomers took a little longer to find the real moons – they weren’t discovered until 1877. They were named Phobos and Deimos – fear and panic – after attendants of the god of war.

Phobos is the larger moon. It’s lumpy, with an average diameter of about 14 miles. It orbits just 3700 miles from the surface of Mars. It rises in the west, then sets in the east less than four-and-a-half hours later.

Deimos is about eight miles in diameter. It’s about three times farther from Mars, so it takes about two-and-a-half days to cross the sky, from east to west. It’s shaped a bit like a potato with a big dimple on one side.

Several spacecraft have flown past the moons. But they’ve raised a lot of questions about them. Now, 300 years after Gulliver’s Travels, scientists may take a big step toward finding some answers. Japan launched the Mars Moons Exploration mission this month. The craft will study both moons from close range. And it will touch down on Phobos, hoovering up a few grams of pebbles and dust for return to Earth.

More about that tomorrow.

Script by Damond Benningfield

The Moon is crossing the constellation Taurus. Tonight, it’s quite close to the bull’s shoulder – the Pleiades star cluster. The bull’s bright eye, the star Aldebaran, is well below the Moon as they climb into view. It’ll be about the same distance to the right of the Moon tomorrow night.

A dead “starship” is headed in Aldebaran’s direction. It won’t get there for more than two million years. But just in case anyone finds it, it carries a message.

Pioneer 10 was launched in 1972. It was the first spacecraft to fly through the asteroid belt, and the first to explore Jupiter, the Sun’s largest planet. After that, it raced out of the solar system and into interstellar space. NASA last heard from it in early 2003. Today, it’s more than 13 billion miles away.

The “message” is a plaque that’s made of aluminum and coated with gold. It measures nine by six inches. It includes the outlines of a naked man and woman. They’re standing in front of an outline of Pioneer to indicate their size. It also includes a chart of the solar system that shows Pioneer’s home planet. Other diagrams help pinpoint Earth’s location in the galaxy.

No one expects Pioneer to ever be found. It won’t get all that close to Aldebaran, and the star’s only known planet isn’t a good home for life. After Aldebaran, Pioneer 10 will continue sailing through the cosmos – an extinct emissary from Planet Earth.

Script by Damond Benningfield

If you overlook the fact that you’d be instantly vaporized, there’d be one small advantage to standing at the surface of the Sun: You’d age more slowly than your friends and family back on Earth.

The effect is called time dilation. It comes from Relativity – Albert Einstein’s theories of motion and gravity. They tell us that clocks at different locations tick at different rates. Keep in mind, though, that they tick at different rates as seen by observers moving at different speeds and in different gravitational fields.

According to Special Relativity, as you go faster your clock slows down. General Relativity says your clock slows down as the pull of gravity gets stronger.

On Earth, the effect has been confirmed by placing atomic clocks in high-flying jet aircraft. And GPS satellites are programmed to compensate for the effect. If they weren’t, the whole system would fail within days.

Time dilation is more pronounced at the surface of the Sun because of the Sun’s great mass. A clock there would slow down by about 67 seconds per year compared to one on Earth. And when the Sun expires, its “corpse” will have even stronger gravity, slowing a clock by more than an hour per year.

Time dilation is strongest just outside a black hole. An outside observer would see a clock at the cusp move almost infinitely slowly – never ticking off the final second before plunging into the black hole.

Script by Damond Benningfield

Few of us have to hunt wild game to survive the long, cold winter these days. But that hasn’t always been the case. Native tribes and European settlers alike had to stock up as the weather grew cooler. And they relied on an autumn full Moon for help: the Hunter’s Moon.

And that Moon is coming up tonight. It’s the full Moon after the Harvest Moon, which appeared in September.

Like the Harvest Moon, the Hunter’s Moon helped people prepare for winter. Its light made it easier to see deer and other animals. And at high northern latitudes, the Moon rises only about a half-hour later each night around full Moon – a much smaller gap than average. So the big, bright Moon was in view by the time evening twilight faded – allowing hunters to stay in the fields long into the night.

Despite what you might think, the Harvest and Hunter’s Moons aren’t any bigger and brighter than any other full Moons. The Moon’s orbit and its cycle of phases aren’t synchronized. So some years the Hunter’s Moon is closer than average. But in other years, it’s farther than average. This year we’re in luck, because it’s on the closer side. At the moment of full Moon, it’ll be about 230,000 miles away – a few thousand miles closer than average.

That helps make this year’s Hunter’s Moon an especially beautiful sight, lighting the autumn fields for hunters – and everyone else, too.

Tomorrow: stretching the year.

Script by Damond Benningfield

Twenty-five years ago, NASA needed a hit. Its previous two missions to Mars had failed – both of them as they were arriving at the Red Planet. So it prepared the next mission with extra care, and sent it on its way on April 7th, 2001.

The craft was named 2001 Mars Odyssey – a tribute to Arthur C. Clarke, the author of “2001: A Space Odyssey.” And like most of Clarke’s books, Mars Odyssey was a big hit. It entered orbit around Mars on October 23rd – 25 years ago this week. It’s the longest-operating spacecraft at any body in the solar system other than Earth.

Among its many accomplishments, Odyssey has mapped the chemical and mineral composition of the entire Martian surface. It also discovered evidence of vast amounts of ice just below the surface. And it found places where liquid water once pooled on the surface. Those observations helped scientists pick interesting locations for landers and rovers. And it found the first caves ever seen on Mars – possible places for future missions to look for microscopic life.

Odyssey also has served as a relay station for Mars landers and rovers. And it recorded radiation levels at the planet – critical information for planning human missions.

As of late summer, the craft was still going. And barring any unexpected problems, it could add several more years to its record-breaking odyssey at the Red Planet.

Script by Damond Benningfield

If you ignore the dark orange sky and the extreme cold, Saturn’s moon Titan might remind you of Earth. River channels empty into lakes and seas. Giant fields of dunes ripple across the surface. And clouds float through the sky, producing occasional rains.

And if everything goes to plan, we should get some amazing views of that landscape in the next decade. A nuclear-powered “octocopter” will fly across the surface, covering several miles with each trip. It’ll monitor the weather and analyze the soil. Most important, it’ll search for elements of life – and evidence of life itself.

Dragonfly is one of the most ambitious missions yet conceived. It’s scheduled for launch in 2028, and arrival at Titan six years later.

Titan is about half-again the size of Earth’s moon. It has a cold, dense atmosphere that’s topped by “smog.” The atmosphere, surface, and lakes appear to contain lots of organic compounds – the building blocks of life. Except for the extreme cold, it may be a lot like Earth was about three-and-a-half billion years ago – at the dawn of life on our planet. So Dragonfly will help scientists determine if Titan is habitable – another home for life.

Saturn is near our moon tonight. It’s close to the lower left of the Moon at nightfall, and even closer as they set, before dawn. It looks like a bright star. But you need a telescope to spot Titan – the target for a dragonfly.

Script by Damond Benningfield

The night sky is disappearing. Growing cities and towns pump more artificial light into the sky all the time. That creates a glowing dome that blots out the view of the Milky Way, meteors, and other beautiful but faint sights.

Light pollution does more than make it impossible to appreciate the beauty of the night sky. It can interfere with the migrations of many animals, and it can harm human health. And it wastes energy by shining light into the sky instead of onto the ground, where it’s needed.

In recent decades, though, some places have tried to limit the light pollution. They’ve passed laws that restrict outdoor lighting, keeping the sky as dark as possible. An international organization certifies the most successful ones. And number one on the list was Flagstaff, Arizona. It was declared the first International Dark-Sky City 25 years ago this week.

Flagstaff began protecting the night in 1958. Lowell Observatory was adding a big new telescope, and it needed dark skies to get the best results. So the city placed restrictions on outdoor lighting. As the city grew over the following years, it beefed up those regulations, winning certification in 2001.

Today, there are more than 60 dark-sky communities, plus dozens of dark-sky parks, reserves, and other sites. That includes a wide swath of West Texas, which is home to McDonald Observatory. These locations help keep the night sky from disappearing.

Script by Damond Benningfield

William Lassell made a fortune selling beer to factory workers in Liverpool. He used that money to set up his own astronomical observatory, called Starfield, outside Liverpool. And he equipped it with telescopes he built himself – some of the best in the world.

Using one of those instruments, Lassell made a major discovery 175 years ago this week. Make that two discoveries: two large moons of the planet Uranus. They were named Ariel and Umbriel, after characters from the works of William Shakespeare and Alexander Pope.

The moons are almost exactly the same size – about 720 miles in diameter. And they have a similar makeup – mixtures of rock and frozen water and methane.

But they look different. Umbriel is dark, and it’s covered by many large impact craters. That suggests the moon is quiet and still – not much happens there.

Ariel is brighter, and it’s much more interesting. It’s crossed by giant canyons and cliffs, with few craters. Liquid water may bubble to the surface from an underground ocean. At the surface, it freezes. That may push the surrounding crust, causing it to crack. So Ariel may be an active world orbiting a giant planet.

Uranus is an easy target for binoculars. It’s halfway between Aldebaran – the bright eye of the bull – and the Pleiades star cluster. They climb into good view in late evening. But the view will be better before dawn, after the Moon has dropped from sight.

Script by Damond Benningfield

The modern constellations offer a convenient way to appreciate the beauty of the night sky. Using the outline of a scorpion or a lion as a landmark makes it easier to find your way around. It’s also a good way to exercise your imagination.

Our imaginations don’t all show us the same pictures, though. The western constellations were passed down from ancient Greece and Rome. And many of them are even older – they came from ancient Babylon and Sumeria. But just about every culture had its own star pictures – its own map of the night sky.

An example is Capricornus. In western mythology, it represents a sea-goat – half goat and half fish – perhaps a story about the god Pan. But records from ancient China describe something different.

Six of the stars in that region formed an ox, known as Niu – a sacrifice for mid-winter. Three others formed dams to hold water for the emperor’s fields, which were also in Capricornus. And other stars formed parts of different pictures – different stories in the night sky.

Capricornus is low in the south at nightfall. The constellation isn’t especially bright, so it’s invisible from light-polluted cities. Under darker skies, you can see the outline of a wide triangle. Tonight, the gibbous Moon is near the triangle’s eastern point. That makes it easier to find where the sea-goat is, but harder to see its faint outline.

Script by Damond Benningfield

Some high-speed bullets are firing across the night sky this week. They’re the bits of debris that produce the Orionid meteor shower – small pebbles left behind by Comet Halley. They hit the atmosphere at about 150,000 miles per hour. They vaporize almost instantly, forming the glowing streaks known as meteors.

Halley visits the inner solar system once every 76 years or so. On each approach, the Sun’s heat vaporizes some of its frozen surface. That releases bits of rock and dirt. Over time, they spread out along the comet’s orbit. Earth flies through this path twice a year, sweeping up some of the particles.

But the comet dust isn’t evenly spread out. Halley produces a new “streamer” with each pass. So the strength of the shower depends on which of these ribbons we encounter, and how deeply we pass through it.

Most years, the Orionids produce up to a couple of dozen meteors per hour. But if we pass through a denser stream, or if we pass through its middle, the rate can go up. In 2006, for example, the shower produced up to a hundred meteors per hour.

Experts aren’t forecasting that kind of performance this year. Still, the shower is worth checking out. You need a dark skywatching site, far from city lights. And the best view comes in the wee hours of the morning, after the Moon has set. The meteors can appear anywhere in the sky, so sit back, look up, and enjoy the show.

Script by Damond Benningfield

Meteorology is the study of Earth’s atmosphere and its weather and climate. Despite the name, it has nothing to do with meteors – at least not directly. But more broadly, meteors and meteorology are related – in their names. Both words come from a Greek word that meant “the heavens above” or “things high up.”

Meteorology was first used by the Greek philosopher Aristotle, around 340 B.C. A “meteor” was any particle in the sky, or that fell from the sky.

Over time, meteors were clumped into four classes. Aerial meteors referred to the wind. Aqueous meteors were rain, snow, or hail – any wet stuff that fell from above. Luminous meteors were anything that glowed, such as rainbows or the northern lights. And igneous meteors were anything that flashed through the sky in an instant – lightning and “shooting stars.”

Until a couple of centuries ago, it was thought that shooting stars had a strictly atmospheric origin – something triggered in the sky itself. It wasn’t until the early 1800s that scientists figured out their true origin: bits of space rock that are burning up in the atmosphere. So without the atmosphere, there would be no glowing meteors to light up the night sky.

The word “meteor,” by the way, refers only to the streak of light. When a rock is still in space, it’s a meteor-oid. And one that s hits the ground is a meteor-ite – a “thing on high” that fell to Earth.

More tomorrow.

Script by Damond Benningfield

The oldest objects on Earth didn’t come from our home planet. They were born in space more than four-and-a-half billion years ago. They fell to Earth as the most common type of meteorite.

Chondrites account for about 85 percent of all meteorites. They’re named for tiny round beads of material known as chondrules. The beads formed in the disk of gas and dust that encircled the newborn Sun. Grains of dust clumped together. The chondrules then mixed in with other particles to form asteroids. Collisions sent pieces of the asteroids racing off into space. Some of them plunged through Earth’s atmosphere, falling as meteorites.

Chondrites haven’t changed much since they formed, so they preserve a record of the early solar system. They tell us what kinds of materials came together to form Earth and the other planets.

There are three main classes of chondrites. The differences reveal where they formed. Some were born quite close to the Sun; others, near the inner edge of the asteroid belt; and still others even farther out. The different classes tell us about conditions in different regions of the early solar system.

Many chondrites contain a lot of water, so they may provide clues to the origin of water on Earth. And they contain some of the chemical building blocks of life, perhaps telling us about the origin of life itself – lessons from relics from the birth of the solar system.

More about meteorites tomorrow.

Script by Damond Benningfield

The solar system is big. Really big. It’s almost three billion miles from the Sun to Neptune, the most distant major planet. It’s more than three billion miles to Pluto. And it’s more than twice that far to the edge of the Sun’s magnetic “bubble” – the boundary with interstellar space.

It’s almost impossible to comprehend those distances – they’re just too far beyond anything we ever experience. But we can get an idea of the scale from models of the solar system – the bigger, the better. And there are some king-size models around the planet.

The largest is in Sweden – it spans most of the country. It includes all the major planets, plus many dwarf planets, asteroids, and comets. The Sun is represented by a ball-shaped arena in Stockholm that’s about 350 feet across. At that scale, Earth is bigger than a beachball, and is almost five miles away. Neptune is about 140 miles out, while the edge of the magnetic bubble is several times farther.

The biggest model in the United States is in Maine. It spans almost a hundred miles, along U.S. 1. It extends to the dwarf-planet Eris, which is more than twice as far as Pluto.

Other large models are found in New Mexico, Illinois, Michigan, and several other states. Some of them are small enough that you can walk them, while you need a car or bike for the others. But all of them can help you understand the scale of our big neighborhood.

Script by Damond Benningfield

A meteorite found in the Sahara Desert could be a fragment of a destroyed sibling of Earth. The small planet might have been blasted to rubble when the solar system was young. Some of the planet’s remains could have been incorporated into the other rocky worlds, including Earth.

NWA 12774 is a one-pound meteorite that was found in northwestern Africa in 2019. It belongs to a rare class known as angrites. They account for less than one-tenth of one percent of all known meteorites. They’re also among the oldest meteorites – they formed more than four and a half billion years ago, when Earth and the other planets were still taking shape.

Based on the composition of the meteorite alone, a team of researchers concluded that it was a fragment of a larger body that was disrupted during the early solar system. When the scientists included the structure of the meteorite, they determined that it came from near the surface of the parent body. That world would have been at least 2200 miles in diameter – as big as the Moon – and perhaps as big as Mars.

The parent world probably was destroyed in a collision with another large body. Such collisions probably were common in the early solar system. Earth probably smacked into a Mars-sized planet, for example. The impact blasted huge amounts of material into space, which eventually came together to form the Moon.

Script by Damond Benningfield

Antares, the bright star at the heart of Scorpius, huddles quite close to the Moon early this evening. They set not long after the sky gets dark, so there’s not a lot of time to look for them.

The Moon is a thin crescent now, so it’s night across most of the lunar disk. But on the bright sliver that’s in daylight, you can still make out some of the dark lunar “seas” – vast plains of volcanic rock. They formed long ago, when giant asteroids slammed into the Moon. Molten rock bubbled up from below, then cooled and hardened.

A recent study found evidence of an especially big impact three-and-a-half billion years ago. The hit would have been powerful enough to melt the surface across a wide area.

Researchers discovered the evidence in a meteorite known as Northwest Africa 12593. It was found in Mali, in 2017. It contained some tiny crystals that form only under extreme heat. The chemistry of the meteorite suggested the impact happened three-and-a-half billion years ago.

A later impact shattered the lava plain, jumbling up the rocks. And a third impact blasted some of the fragments into space, including the one that fell to Earth. The initial impact happened at about the time of similar events on Earth and the asteroid Vesta. That suggests that the inner solar system was littered with many giant space rocks at the time – cosmic “missiles” that sometimes smashed into Earth and the other large worlds.

More tomorrow.

Script by Damond Benningfield