During the second half of 2020, I serendipitously captured six meteors on my telescope’s 17 x 11 arcminute video field of view while observing potential asteroid occultation events. I used the method described in There’s a Meteor in My Image to determine the radiant for each meteor. Here they are.
Sporadic meteor 8 Jul 2020 UT; Field location TYC 7379-00569-1 in Scorpius Each frame is an exposure of 0.13s (meteor is at left side of field)
A sporadic meteor is any meteor that does not come from a known radiant.
Probable sporadic meteor 22 Aug 2020 UT; Field location UCAC4 394-071682 in Serpens Each frame is an exposure of 0.13s ; possibly a Perseid (meteor from upper right to lower left)Probable sporadic meteor 29 Aug 2020 UT; Field location UCAC4 601-019523 in Auriga Each frame is an exposure of 0.27s ; possibly a Perseid (meteor from upper right to lower left)Orionid 11 Oct 2020 UT; Field location TYC 1337-01489-1 in Gemini; very fast! Each frame is an exposure of 0.13s ; (meteor at upper right)Sporadic meteor 14 Nov 2020 UT; Field location UCAC4 559-043312 in Gemini Each frame is an exposure of 0.27s (meteor at upper right)Probable Leonid 5 Dec 2020 UT; Field location UCAC4 410-001419 in Cetus Each frame is an exposure of 0.13s ; (meteor along upper part of field)
None of these meteors were particularly bright, unfortunately, so you may want to use the full-screen button at the lower-right-hand corner of each video to see them well.
Russian cosmonaut Valeri Polyakov, M.D. (1942-) holds the record for the longest spaceflight duration. During 1994-1995, he spent 437.8 contiguous days in orbit, almost all of them aboard the Mir space station.
The largest number of people in space at the same time was thirteen, and this has happened four times.
Both Jerry Ross and Franklin Chang Díaz hold the record for the most spaceflights. Both astronauts have gone into space seven times. Jerry Ross (STS-61-B, STS-27, STS-37, STS-55, STS-74, STS-88, STS-110) between November 26, 1985 and April 19, 2002 (Space Shuttle Atlantis: 5, Columbia: 1, Endeavour: 1), and Franklin Chang Díaz (STS-61-C, STS-34, STS-46, STS-60, STS-75, STS-91, STS-111) between January 12, 1986 and June 19, 2002 (Space Shuttle Columbia: 2, Atlantis: 2, Discovery: 2, Endeavour: 1). Both astronauts were mission specialists in the NASA Astronaut Group 9, announced May 29, 1980.
The farthest humans have ever been from Earth occurred at 0:21 UT on April 15, 1970 when the crippled Apollo 13 spacecraft (Jim Lovell, Fred Haise, and Jack Swigert) executed a free-return trajectory to Earth. They were furthest from Earth above the lunar farside, 158 miles above the surface and 248,655 miles from Earth.
The youngest person ever to fly in space was Gherman Titov who was 25 years old during his solo Vostok 2 spaceflight on August 6, 1961. He was the second person to orbit the Earth.
The oldest person ever to fly in space was John Glenn who was 77 years old during his second spaceflight aboard the Space Shuttle DiscoverySTS-95 from October 29, 1998 to November 7, 1998. He was the first American to orbit the Earth in 1962.
The longest spacewalk occurred on March 11, 2001 when James Voss and Susan Helms were outside the Space Shuttle Discovery (STS-102) and the International Space Station for 8 hours and 56 minutes.
The longest moonwalk occurred on December 12-13, 1972 when Apollo 17 astronauts Eugene Cernan and Harrison Schmitt spent 7 hours and 37 minutes outside the lunar module on their second of three lunar excursions. All were longer than 7 hours. This was the final Apollo mission, and Gene Cernan, who died in 2017, is still the last person to walk on the surface of the Moon.
I’d like to introduce you to another fine classical music recording I’ve recently discovered, but first a little editorializing about classical recordings in general.
I hope the day never comes when physical media in the form of compact discs (or something similar) is completely replaced by digital downloads or streaming. The booklet enclosed with physical media always provides useful and often enlightening information about the music, and there’s artistry on the front and back covers. Having been in COVID-19 lockdown for nearly a year now, I yearn for real human interaction without technology instead of “virtual everything”. And I say that as a person who has made his career as a computer programmer. What does that have to do with music on a CD? Well, perhaps I’ve digressed, but let me just say a recording is a poor substitute for a live performance, and a digital file is a poor substitute for a CD. Happily, I have read recently that classical music is keeping the CD alive as popular music largely goes the way of the computer file. As for CD packaging, I much prefer a well-made jewel case (with a hub whose teeth don’t break off easily) over the cardboard digipak that is seeing more frequent use, including the Shostakovich disc I will be briefly discussing here.
I much prefer discs that feature works of just one composer. Not only are they more easily filed and retrieved, but, more importantly, they often introduce you to some lesser-known works of a composer. Something I have learned over my many years of listening to classical music recordings is that there are many first-rate lesser-known works of composers, both famous and not-so-famous. There is a lot of great music out there, waiting to be discovered and enjoyed, even after a lifetime of listening!
This disc featuring Russian pianist Anna Vinnitskaya (who now lives in Germany) is one such happy occasion. It features the two piano concertos of Dmitri Shostakovich (himself a fine pianist), plus two of his lesser-known works for two pianos (joined here by Ivan Rudin), Concertino for Two Pianos, op. 94, and Tarantella for Two Pianos, both of which were unknown to me. An all-Shostakovich disc!
Alpha Classics 203
This disc is a delight from beginning to end. Anna Vinnitskaya plays Shostakovich as well as anyone I have heard, with great intensity, energy, and precision during the rhythmic passages, and with great beauty and sensitivity during the legato passages. The Kremerata Baltica is really outstanding in the two piano concertos, as is the quality of the recording. The latter is much above average, I would say, perfectly balanced and articulated. Vinnitskaya herself conducts the orchestra from the piano in the Concerto for Piano, Trumpet and Strings, op. 35, where she is joined by a fine trumpet soloist, Tobias Willmer. Omer Meir Wellber skillfully conducts the orchestra in the Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, op. 102, and the Kremerata Baltica is joined by the Winds of the Staatskapelle Dresden in a perfect union and performance.
Anna Vinnitskaya grew up with the music of Shostakovich in her household, and developed an early and deep appreciation of his music and it shows throughout this recording. She performed his Second Piano Concerto for the first time at the age of eleven, and now at age 37, I have no doubt she is one of the finest performers of the piano music of Shostakovich in the world today. I hope I will have the opportunity to hear her play either of the Shostakovich piano concertos in the concert hall one day soon. Or any other piano works by Shostakovich, for that matter!
One thing I have become acutely aware of after decades of listening to classical music is the enormous difference there can be between live performances or recordings of the same work. Tempo can be one obvious difference. I tend not to like music that is on the fast end of the tempo continuum for a given work—I like to “savor” the notes. But anything as complex and nuanced as an orchestral palette can lend itself to many different interpretations. Yes, the notes are the same, but how a piece is played can make the difference between enthusiasm for the work or complete indifference.
The first recorded supernova in our Milky Way galaxy (or anywhere else, for that matter) was seen to blaze forth in the constellation Centaurus by astute Chinese astronomers in 185 AD. Including that one, only seven confirmed supernovae have been observed in our Milky Way galaxy, though thousands are discovered each year in other galaxies.
Supernova light reached Earth in AD 185, 393, 1006, 1054, 1181, 1572, and 1604. All seven of these events occurred before the invention of the telescope. Are we overdue for another supernova? Well, given this ridiculously small sample, we can endeavor to do some simple “statistics”. The shortest recorded interval between two Milky Way supernovae was 32 years between 1572 and 1604. The longest interval has been 613 years, between the supernovae of 393 and 1006 (assuming none went unnoticed). On average then (such as it is), we “should” have seen a Milky Way supernova around 1841, and using the longest interval of 613 years, we might be expecting one by the year 2217. Undoubtedly, some supernovae in the Milky Way have escaped detection because they lay behind thick interstellar clouds.
The big mystery to me is why are there no recorded supernova events prior to 185 AD? The earliest extant records of astronomical events go back at least as far as 2316 BC (a comet in the constellation Crater was recorded by Chinese astronomers), but in the intervening 2,500 years there has been no mention of anything that could be attributed to a supernova. Or has there? Some writings before and after 185 AD suggest possible supernovae, but until a supernova remnant is identified, we need to look for other explanations.
Here follows a table of the known observed Milky Way supernovae. Of course, other supernova remnants have been discovered in our Milky Way galaxy, but no record has yet been discovered describing these events. Many of them predate recorded history.
In the table below, you’ll note that these supernovae tend to lie close to the galactic plane (galactic latitude b = 0°)—not at all surprising considering that’s where most of the stars are.
Milky Way Supernovae confirmed to have been observed
I discovered the music of Johannes Brahms before that of Robert Schumann, but I revere the latter composer now as well. Knowing much of the music of both, there is no question that Robert Schumann had a huge influence on Brahms. Both wrote four symphonies, all eight of which are favorites of mine.
But here we turn our attention to some of the early piano music of Robert Schumann, completed when Schumann was in his 20s, before he was finally able to marry Clara Wieck, and before his first symphony.
These are performances of considerable beauty, passion, and sensitivity by French pianist Lise de la Salle. I highly recommend this CD (Naïve V 5364). The recording is excellent, and De la Salle seems to have an innate understanding of this music and its often rapidly changing moods, a delight throughout.
The works performed are Scenes from Childhood, op. 15; Abegg Variations, op. 1; and Fantasie in C Major, op. 17.
There are thirteen pieces in Scenes from Childhood. The most famous of these is No. 7 Träumerei (Dreaming), but I also especially like No. 1 (Of foreign lands and peoples) and No. 2 (A curious story).
Of foreign lands and peoples
A curious story
Blind man’s buff
Pleading child
Happy enough
An important event
Dreaming
At the fireside
Knight of the hobby-horse
Almost too serious
Frightening
Child falling asleep
The poet speaks
This is followed by the Schumann’s first published work, the Abegg Variations, op. 1.
The disc concludes with the three-movement work, Fantasie in C Major, op. 17, arguably Schumann’s piano masterpiece, and a real tour de force in this performance by Lise de la Salle. When he wrote this piece, Schumann was already beginning to suffer from a mental disorder that would tragically claim his life only 20 years later—an illness with a physical origin that no doubt today could be easily cured.
For an excellent introduction to Robert Schumann and his wife, Clara Wieck Schumann—a piano virtuoso, composer, and teacher of considerable talent—I wholeheartedly recommend the eight-part video course from Robert Greenberg, “Great Masters: Robert and Clara Schumann – Their Lives and Music” (The Great Courses, Course No. 759).
Even though it is a highly fictionalized account, I would also recommend the 1947 movieSong of Love, starring the incomparable Katharine Hepburn as Clara Wieck Schumann, Paul Henreid as Robert Schumann, and Robert Walker as Johannes Brahms.
In 2021, the best dates and times for observing the zodiacal light are listed in the calendar below. The sky must be very clear with little or no light pollution. The specific times listed are for Dodgeville, Wisconsin (42° 58′ N, 90° 08′ W).
Here’s a nicely-formatted printable PDF file of the zodiacal light calendar:
The best nights to observe the zodiacal light at mid-northern latitudes occur when the ecliptic plane intersects the horizon at an angle of 60° or steeper. The dates above were chosen on that basis, with the Sun at least 18° below the horizon and the Moon below the horizon being used to calculate the times. An interval of time of one hour either before morning twilight or after evening twilight was chosen arbitrarily because it is the “best one hour” for observing the zodiacal light. The zodiacal light cone will be brightest and will reach highest above the horizon when the Sun is 18° below the horizon (astronomical twilight), but no less.
If you are interested in calculating the angle the ecliptic makes with your horizon for any date and time, you can use the following formula:
where I is the angle between the ecliptic and the horizon, ε is the obliquity of the ecliptic, φ is the latitude of the observer, and θ is the local sidereal time (the right ascension of objects on the observer's meridian at the time of observation).
Here’s a SAS program I wrote to do these calculations:
Each meteor shower is identified using its three-character IAU meteor shower code. Codes are bold on the date of maximum, and one day either side of maximum.
Here’s a printable PDF file of the meteor shower calendar shown below:
Why does the Earliest Sunset come before the Winter Solstice and the Latest Sunrise after?
Why does the Earliest Sunrise come before the Summer Solstice and the Latest Sunset after?
Ever wonder? I have. And aside from some hand-wavy explanations, I’ve never been able to explain this very well. Here’s the best explanation I have seen yet, provided in the December 2007 issue of Sky & Telescope, p. 55:
You’d think the earliest sunset would come on the shortest day (or longest night) of the year, at the winter solstice. But in fact, the day-night cycle shifts back and forth a little with the seasons, due to the tilt of Earth’s axis and the ellipticity of Earth’s orbit. At the beginning of December, sunrise, midday, and sunset all happen a little earlier than they “should”, and in January they run a little late. So the earliest sunset ends up being two or three weeks before the solstice, and the latest sunrise is two or three weeks afterward. The exact dates depend on your latitude.
Continuing along that same line of thought…
At the beginning of June, sunrise, midday, and sunset all happen a little later than they “should” and in July they run a little earlier. So the earliest sunrise ends up being about a week before the solstice, and the latest sunset is about a week afterwards. The exact dates depend on your latitude.
I know, I know. You still have a question. “Why are the dates of earliest sunrise and latest sunset closer to the summer solstice than the dates of earliest sunset and latest sunrise to the winter solstice?” Good question. I think it has everything to do with the fact that the Earth is near aphelion at the time of the summer solstice, and thus moving most slowly in its orbit around the Sun (the Earth’s orbit is slightly elliptical and not circular). That means that the Sun is moving slowest against the background stars and thus the accumulated difference between the sidereal day and solar day is the smallest at that time of year. That means the spread of days between earliest sunrise and latest sunset is less. Conversely, at the winter solstice, Earth is near perihelion, and therefore it is moving most quickly in its orbit around the Sun. That means that the Sun is moving fastest against the background stars and thus the accumulated difference between the sidereal day and solar day is largest at that time of year. That means the spread of days between earliest sunset and latest sunrise is more.
Here in Dodgeville, Wisconsin, where the latitude is just shy of 43˚ N and the longitude is just a tad over 90˚ W, the earliest sunset this year is today, Tuesday, December 8, 2020, at 4:25:49 p.m.
Latest sunrise in 2021 will be on both Saturday, January 2 and Sunday, January 3 at 7:31:51 a.m.
Pause to consider that if we were on year-round daylight saving time, latest sunrise wouldn’t be until 8:31:51 a.m.
Using the newly-invented telescope, French astronomer Nicolas-Claude Fabri de Peiresc (1580-1637) discovered the now-famous Orion Nebula (M42) when he was 29 years old, 410 years ago on this day.
November 26, 1610.
But wait a minute. You and I can see a nebulous “star” below the belt of Orion with our unaided eyes under a reasonably dark sky. Why wasn’t this object discovered long before the invention of the telescope?
Apparently, there is no known report of a “nebulous star” in the sword of Orion prior to Peiresc’s discovery. Is the Orion nebula brighter now than it was a few centuries ago? Is it possible an earlier observational report somehow got missed or was not properly interpreted?
There is speculation that the Maya civilization of Mesoamerica recognized the Orion Nebula long before Peiresc’s discovery, describing it as smoke from the smoldering embers of creation.
One can only stand in wonderment at the knowledge and experiences of hundreds of generations of men, women, and children who are utterly unknown to us today. Passed from person to person and generation to generation through oral tradition, never written down and eventually lost. Or written down on documents that later disintegrated or were purposefully destroyed.
Who hasn’t wished that they could could time travel back to the past? Have you ever wondered what your current location looked like a hundred years ago? A thousand years ago? Ten thousand or more years ago? Though sending humans into the past will probably never be possible, who’s to say that we won’t eventually figure out a way to view and perhaps even hear the past, without actually being there or having the ability to change it?
Pittsburgh telescope maker, optician, and educator John Alfred Brashear (1840-1920) was born 180 years ago this day. His world-renowned optical company made much of the astronomical equipment in use in the United States during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. His works included a 30-inch refractor for Allegheny Observatory in Pittsburgh, a 15-inch refractor for the Dominion Observatory in Canada, and the 8-inch refractor at the Drake University Municipal Observatory in Des Moines, Iowa.
My good friend, telescope maker Drew Sorenson in Jefferson, Iowa, has been a fan of John Brashear for many years. Not only does Drew make fine refractors as did Brashear, but there is more than a little resemblance between the two men. Drew introduced me to a delightful book entitled John A. Brashear: The Autobiography of A Man who Loved the Stars, which was first published posthumously in 1924. For anyone interested in the history of astronomy and the life of a scientist and humanitarian who struggled from near-obscurity to great success with only an elementary school education, this book is a must-read.
Here are three of my favorite passages from the book.
Somewhere beneath the stars is work which you alone were meant to do. Never rest until you have found it.
There is another yarn I cannot resist telling. The young farmer who had been bringing Mrs. Brashear her supply of vegetables asked her one day if I would let him look in the big telescope if he came up some clear evening. She encouraged him to do so, and I found him waiting one night to see the sights. I did not know whether or not he had any knowledge of astronomy, but I asked him what he would like to look at. He replied, “Juniper.” I told him that unfortunately that planet was not visible in the sky at the time. Then he expressed a desire to see “Satan.” But his Satanic Majesty was not around either. The climax came when he asked if I could show him the “Star of Jerusalem!” I ended it by showing him the moon and some clusters, and he went home very happy.
I remember, too, an old gentleman over eighty years of age who climbed the hill one moonlight night for a look in the telescope. The good man was utterly exhausted when he reached the house, and Ma and I had him lie down on the lounge to rest before climbing the stairs to the telescope. The views that night were fine, and I can hear the soliloquy yet of the dear fellow as he said, “For many years I have desired to see the beauties of the heavens in a telescope. I have read about them and heard lectures about them, but I never dreamed they were so beautiful.” We invited him to stay all night; but as it was moonlight, and much easier for him to go down the hill than to come up, he insisted on going home. I went part of the way with him to see that he got along all right; and all the way he expressed his delight at having the wish of a lifetime gratified that night.
Three weeks later the funeral cortège of that old man passed along the road on the opposite hillside that led to the cemetery, and it has always been a pleasure to remember that I was able to be of some service in gratifying one of his desires of a lifetime.
I think that all my life I have been partial to old people and children, and it has always been a source of genuine pleasure to contribute to their happiness.
John A. Brashear: The Autobiography of A Man who Loved the Stars (1924)
