A Midsummer Night's Light Show

When I returned home yesterday evening the sky was overcast (we're back in a cycle of clear, bright mornings and rainy afternoons/evenings) so I settled in to watch the Rays lose another baseball game and didn't think about the night sky until I went to take the trash out before going to bed (about 1:30 a.m.).

The clouds near us had all gone away and the nearly full Moon was so bright it turned the sky a dark pale blue. Despite the glare, Mars was still visible just to the west and Saturn just to the east of the Moon. It was too bright to use the telescope on them, though.

However, the best part was much closer to home. Although the sky overhead was clear there was a huge arc of cumulus clouds along the horizon from south to west, all illuminated by moonglow. In addition, both ends of the arc were lit up by lightning. I couldn't really see the detail off to the west, only occasional flashes, but the thunder cell to the south was continuously active with streaks and bursts of light chasing across and around the clouds, often behind but sometimes with lightning bolts in front arcing across the sky and looking like nothing so much as an animation of nerve impulses racing through a brain.

There was no breeze and the clouds were far enough away (about 50 miles, or just south of Marco Island. I checked the weather radar later) that no thunder could be heard. Just a silent, unending, living light show under the Moon and planets and motionless palms.

I stood there for a good half hour just enjoying this awesome world.

A Very Long Day's Night

I had forgotten that the lunar eclipse was last night until just before it started so I hadn't taken a nap or otherwise prepared and was pretty well wiped out by show time.

Nevertheless, my brother and I took my telescopic Christmas present outside and spent some time alternating between the Moon and Mars. Mars, although much smaller, was brighter and a lighter, cleaner, friendlier red. The Moon was angrier, mottled by the intrinsic difference in brightness between the maria and the highlands. As the Moon darkened, Spica, which is currently just south of it and invisible in the glare of fullness, became temporarily prominent.

And then, once more, just as with every other astronomical event I try to watch, the clouds slid in. Thin, high cirrus, not thoroughly blocking naked eye viewing but destroying any chance of seeing through the telescope. Just before totality the Moon was obscured and Mars followed shortly. My brother went inside. I stayed out for a while and there were, indeed, moments where gaps allowed me to see a beautiful deep red eclipse but they were few and fleeting.

I packed up, finally, about 4 a.m. and went in. My brother had fallen asleep. I went out a couple more times without the 'scope but, although there was clear viewing off to the west, the clouds were coming up from the south and continued to hide the Moon and Mars.

I turned on NASA TV and tried to watch there but their music was awful and, in any event, clouds (perhaps the same high cirrus. Does NASA film from Kennedy Space Center?) soon swept across their shots, too.

Eternally optimistic, I now await the Leonids on Thursday. They should be coming right out of Mars. Unless there are clouds.

UPDATE:
Rain all afternoon and into the evening, frequently heavy. Clouds all night and today. Rain forecast for this afternoon and evening.

No Leonids meteor shower for us.

Moon Walk

Our skies were mostly clear these past two nights so I took advantage to stroll around.

The moonlight was so intense some colors returned to the evening, the sky slate blue, the grass deep olive green but only when out from under the trees. All the shadows remained shades of gray. The few clouds were bright chalky white above and mithril silver below.

The moonshadows were almost as deep as the ones from a nearby streetlight but more delicate. When the hazy edge of a cloud partially obscured the moon, the moonshadows faded although the moon itself stayed visible. Otherwise, the only way I could identify the lunar shadow was because it was shorter, the moon being higher in the sky.

Some birds began singing, the opposite effect from a solar eclipse when the sudden loss of light sends animals into night time mode. If the night-blooming jasmine had been ready I might have stayed out there 'til sunrise.