Solstice

 Tomorrow at around four am the winter solstice arrives. Blessed be. I recommend Rosamund Pilcher's novel, Winter Solstice.

Skyward for by our Guest Blogger, David Levy

 

Skyward for November 2024

 

David H. Levy

Palomar Mountain Observatory.

 

Last month I drove all the way from my Vail, Arizona home to Palomar Mountain Observatory.  As most of this column’s readers know, I have visited this place many dozens of times from my first encounter in March of 1974, and regularly from the late summer of 1989 to the late spring of 1996.  I have always loved this magical place.  Each visit, as I would drive in, I would pass the expansive dome of the mighty 200-inch Hale Telescope.  As I drove by I felt the telescope waving at me.  It and I are the same age.  The telescope was officially inaugurated on June 3, 1948, just thirteen days after my birth on May 22 that year.  We are both 76. (I was probably too young to give a speech, with a poetic quotation, at that event.) 

                The purpose of this visit was to watch the September 16^th partial eclipse of the Moon with my close friend Jean Mueller.    I have known Jean for decades.  Jean operated telescopes at Palomar, mostly the 48-inch Samuel Oschin Schmidt telescope which opened just before the giant 200-inch. While there, she exposed many photographic plates for the second POSS (Palomar Observatory Sky Survey)  survey.  Mueller would scan the plates for stars that appeared in and around galaxies and mark a galaxy. She would then compare that galaxy with a picture from earlier to see  if the star had newly appeared. If it had, she would measure the position of the star, and then an astronomer would confirm her discovery on the 200-inch. This meticulous work enabled Mueller to discover 107 supernovae in addition to fifteen comets and thirteen now-numbered  asteroids.  Jean Mueller is a prime, absolutely first-rate astronomer and observer of the night sky, and she is admired and highly respected around the world.

                It has been thirty years since I last visited Palomar, and I was overdue for a return.  As I cruised by the colossal dome housing the 200-inch Hale telescope, at one time the largest in the world; this was not my reason for visiting Palomar all those years ago.  Instead, I drove on some meters on to see the 18-inch Schmidt camera telescope.  This beautiful instrument was the first and is the oldest telescope on this mountain, and its record of discovery is dazzling.  It helped Fritz Zwicky discovered 121 exploding stars, or supernovae, in distant galaxies.  It has a historic record of discovery of asteroids and comets, by far the most important of which is Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 on March 23, 1993.  In July of 1994 the pieces of this shattered comet slammed into Jupiter.  Colliding at a velocity of 37 miles per second, each fragment left a very bright flash and a large brownish cloud that persisted for months.

                During my March visit I learned how the 18-inch was moved to the observatory museum where it has become a lovely exhibit.  Whwen I saw my old friend again; I almost cried.  I then visited the outside of the dome that was our home for so long, and while there the treasured memories of working with Gene and Carolyn flooded back like an incoming ocean tide.  This time I could not hold back the tears of joy.

                With the possible exception of our discovery of Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9, this was by far the most emotive visit I’ve ever had to Palomar.  For the first time in my long association, the overwhelming history of the place really struck me.  I felt I was standing next to Russell Porter as he drew a sketch of the telescope, even before its mirror was installed, pointed towards the north.   He even flashed me his legendary grin.  Porter became famous long before he helped design the 200-inch.  In the November 1925 issue of Scientific American,  he published its lead article “The Heavens Declare the Glory of God.”  That piece of writing also marked the opening of Stellafane, the telescope makers conference still held every year atop Breezy Hill in Vermont. Last year Stellafane celebrated 100 years of its legendary pink clubhouse.

                On that incredible evening of September 17, we watched a wonderful partial lunar eclipse.  Only 7% of the Moon was covered in the Earth’s central or umbral shadow, but the outer penumbra shadow dimmed much of the rest of the Moon.  And just five weeks later, mighty Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS painted its rosy picture across the evening sky.    May these haunting events add to our joy in the night sky that shall be remembered forever.

The monstrous dome of the Hale 200 inch telescope on Palomar Mountain, as seen through the 18 inch Schmidt Camera Dome at Twilight.

Comet Tsuchinshan Atlas 19 October 2024

 

               

 

Samhain

 It is Samhain.  Blessed be.

Skyward for October 20-24 by David H. Levy, our guest blogger

 

Skyward for October 20-24

 

 

Elm Tree at Acadia

David H. Levy

 

    Morello's outline there is wrongly traced,

    His hue mistaken; what of that? or else,

    Rightly traced and well ordered; what of that?

    Speak as they please, what does the mountain care?

    Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,

    Or what's a heaven for? 

Robert Browning,  Andrea del Sarto, 1855.

 

Decades ago during the fall of a year that I recall might have been 1972, I attended Yom Kippur services at our family synagogue in Montreal, Congregation Shaar Hashomayim.  The Congregation had instituted a new feature that year, a Yom Kippur Teach-in.  I decided to give it a try.  The topics were completely open that year, and the audience applauded every comment.  I was a trifle nervous about saying anything, but I stood up and made a comment about God, and how our concepts of God are as different as each of us might be.  I ended my comment with these two lines from Robert Browning’s famous Andrea del Sarto:

Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,

Or what's a heaven for? 

 

My comment did get a smattering of applause.  Afterward my life went on, and on, until few days ago, when writing a book featuring poetry about the night sky, I chanced upon Browning’s poem again.

     This Browning poem is surely one of his most famous and insightful.  The poet suggests that Mount Morello, in Italy near Florence, is “wrongly traced.”   Hed then supposes that the mountain itself, if it has consciousness, wouldn’t care if its outline was correct or not: “what does the mountain care?” In the final two lines of this section the poet transcends geographically from Morello to infinity, from earthly cares to the outermost reaches of space and time”--  “Or what’s a heaven for?”

      It is not often that someone can compare the reading of a great and fabulous poem with a sporting event, but here I try : 

I like to compare these lines of “Andrea del Sarto” with watching a baseball game.  In my experience a typical baseball game consists of lengthy stretches of strike-outs, some walks, breaks between innings, and other trivia.  But these breaks are interspersed with exciting base hits, doubles, triples, and home runs.  These events often happen without warning, and a large crowd in the stands can be electrified instantaneously, rising to its feet as the ball heads off the field, into the stands. It does seem odd to compare a work of English Literature to a baseball game, but in this case, it works.

Writing about ball games, I have missed a football game to see a deep partial eclipse of the Moon On August 26, 1961, there was an eclipse in which 99.2 percent of the Moon was embedded in the Earth’s umbral shadow.   In this way the stadium offers us yet another way to enjoy the night sky, and to remember that even during sporting events, we can enjoy the night sky by looking at it briefly from our stadium chairs.  When we do that during the most important game of all, we are truly winners.

 

Fall

The leaves have begun to fall. they are changing color, too. early in some cases I live for 🍂 🍁 autumn. so many great memories, of country drives to find pumpkins and carmel apples, fall festivals, scarecrows and Halloween 🎃. Soon, it will be time to plant bulbs, rake leaves, and remember good times long gone.

Skyward by Dr. David Levy

Here is a link for the latests Skwyard, August 2024, by Dr. David Levy our guest blogger: https://www.vaticanobservatory.org/sacred-space-astronomy/skyward-by-david-h-levy-august-2024/

J. Schwanke's Life in Bloom

This is a colorful show on PBS Create where the host incorporates flowers into every day life. Todays show adresses using the color wheel to create flower arrangements. Other shows talk about flowers and food and more gardening and arranging. The set is simple yet beautiful. he ises a variety of containers, flowers, and foliage. All in all, it's a very relaxing experience.

American Doll and Toy Museum: Rocks and Dolls

American Doll and Toy Museum: Rocks and Dolls: Eleanor St. George, a famous doll author and collector of the late forties and fifties, wrote that doll collectors are seldom single minded ...

Deliverance, a Review

When I was little, my family watched Daniel Boone on television. The opening scenes showed in beautiful Technicolor the woods, the blue watered streams, all of it. It made me shiver. Even in sunlight, the landscaped menaced. To paraphrase Plath, sunlight struck the water and the land like damnation. It was all so lonely, isolated, but for a man and his gun. Fast forward to trips we took out west, driving through areas that saw very few people. The eerie Great Salt Lake, the Rockies and Tetons, lands of caves and canyons, devils’ towers and overhanging cliffs, rivers that seemed deepless, oceans that never stopped flowing. Flannery O’Connor’s story,” A Good Man is Hard to Find” amused and scared us. Would we run into the Misfit at an isolated sunny picnic area in Colorado, which we abandoned after our little dog faced the edging woods and wouldn’t start barking”? There was Paul Auster’s essay “Why Write?” In that, a little boy scout is struck by lightening and killed while they trying to seek shelter. My own camping experience was limited to a field biology excursion where teen boys tried to scare us at night, and were impressed that I was the one who didn’t scream. I nearly fell off a high bolder, yanked up poison ivy by mistake, and twice nearly stepped on snakes. Then, after three years of looking for the book, I read Deliverance by James Dickey. Murder and raped never scared so much. Many of the quotes made famous by the film by Burt Reynolds and Ned Beatty were not part of the book. Instead, Dickey pointed out in chilling detail how four ordinary men from the city would be conquered, then conquer, a mysterious river and a deadly mountain and its inhabitants. Dickey opens and closes with descriptions of the river, in an allusion to James Joyce and Finnegans Wake. Dickey’s prose is poetic and deadly. As an avid hunter and outdoorsman, he knew which words conveyed the terror of the woods, and four men who were not expecting in their wildest dreams the misadventures they would face

Earth Day

Dolls are ephemeral. So are toys. They disappear from the horizon after awhile. years from now, what hasn't deteriorated will be dug out of landfills by archaeologists and studied by anthropologists. Not so different from from those who address climate change. When ice bergs melt, weather gets hotter or colder, or animals become extinct, that same sense of loss occurs. Dolls, toys and other small things forgotten are often all left after entire civilizations disappear. When these thongs go, they can't be replaced. The Earth is our mother, this Earth Day we should remember to cate for her and her children. See the original forty nine tips from this blog

A Total Eclipse of the Sun, Part II, by Dr. David Levy, our Guest Blogger

Skyward for May 2024. David H. Levy A Total Eclipse of the Sun, part Two. This is a story, not a report on observations. On April 8, a total eclipse of the Sun tracked across Mexico, the United States, and Canada. Most of the United Staes enjoyed clear weather, and most of Canada did too. We were in Texas. We did not have clear weather. Admittedly, we knew we might be in for bad luck a week out. But when my friends David and Pam Rossetter came by Friday morning at 5:45 a.m., we knew we would be in for quite an adventure. We arrived at the home in which we planned to stay early Friday evening. Dena McClung, former president of the Denver Astronomical Society, was an important part of our group. It appeared that the house had been vacant for months or years. Although we decided to grin, bear it, and make do, by the next afternoon Scott Roberts, our host, had put us up in a wonderful hotel. The afternoon before the eclipse, a new report predicted clearing during the eclipse. We were heartened, but that prediction was wrong. Eclipse day dawned cloudy with drizzle. We arrived at the Explore Scientific site near Leakey, Texas. We did see the Sun for a few seconds now and then. The eclipse began right on time—to the second, even though it may first have been predicted by astrologers in ancient Greece. I remembered how happy Dad was when the 1963 eclipse began the same way. We did get several brief views of the incoming partial. But as the Moon advanced inexorably, the clouds thickened. And as totality neared, it became pretty obvious we would miss the total phase. About ten minutes before the total phase began, someone in our group asked me to share a poem at the start of totality. The one I had in mind was Ross’s speech after Macbeth murders King Duncan: By th’ clock ’tis day, And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp. Is ’t night’s predominance, or the day’s shame That darkness does the face of Earth entomb When living light should kiss it? Short and sweet, and so Shakespeare. But two minutes before the onset of the total eclipse, I thought of Wendee’s favorite poem, The closing lines of “The Song of Honour” by Ralph Hodgson. I suddenly missed Wendee more than I can write. During the 2017 eclipse my wife opined that she hoped still to be alive to see this one. I understood that this eclipse I would have to appreciate for both of us. The idea of her not being here, at this moment, hit me like a clap of thunder. The sky was darkening fast. The temperature was falling like a stone. It grew much colder. And still the sky grew darker. It was past noon and it was night. We were silent. It was the moment of total eclipse. I stood and faced the group. I said: I stood and stared; the sky was lit, The sky was stars all over it, I stood, I knew not why, Without a wish, without a will, I stood upon that silent hill And stared into the sky until My eyes were blind with stars, and still I stared into the sky. The group listened with rapt attention. When I was done, there were smiles and some applause. We would not see a total eclipse but we had a poem. Then there was silence. Twenty seconds passed. And then, the Sun appeared in total eclipse. Just like that. I could not believe it. For about half a minute; for 30, maybe 45 seconds, we swathe Sun’s corona, the centerpiece of a total eclipse of the Sun. I did not notice the big prominence at the bottom of the Sun but I did not care. The Sun’s corona, circular because this was near the maximum of the sunspot cycle, smiled at us. (At other parts of the cycle the corona would be more oval.) It was the most dramatic thing I have ever seen. After that unforgettable, precious, sight, clouds came in again. We did get to glimpse the corona on and off a few times after that. I noticed the sky starting to brighten as the end of totality approached. Suddenly it was over. Only it wasn’t. For one delicious moment the Sun’s photosphere appeared. The Sun was shining through valleys at the edge, or the limb, of the Moon. It was a magnificent, stunning view of Baily’s beads. First described by Francis Baily after he observed them during the eclipse of May 15, 1836, the effect bears his name. However, the first person to describe this effect was actually Edmond Halley,(of comet fame) who recorded them 121 years earlier during the total eclipse of May 3, 1715. What we saw was splendid. And then we got to see a large portion of the ending partial phase. Clouds again obscured the very end of the eclipse. I sat in my chair, alone. I thought of Wendee. I missed her so much. I could not stop crying. Scott Roberts sat with me and put his hand on my shoulder. Even as I write these words, I am not quite over it. This eclipse, by far the most dramatic I ever saw, was my twelfth total eclipse, and the 101st eclipse I have seen since October 2, 1959.

The total eclipse from Montreal, Canada. The photo credit goes to Joyce Stein, with assistance from Dr. Lawrence Stein. You can spot Venus in between the telephone wires.

Skyward 2024 by our guest blogger, Dr. David Levy, and the Eclipse

Skyward for April 2024. David H. Levy A Total Eclipse of the Sun. As I am writing this April 2024 edition of Skyward, in less than a month there will be a total eclipse of the Sun. The Moon’s great shadow will trace a path across North America, including the United States, and Eastern Canada. A total eclipse of the Sun is one of the most breathtaking sights all of Nature has to offer. The Sun will vanish. In its place will be a jeweled crown. The Moon’s dark central shadow will touch the Earth in the Pacific Ocean at sunrise and hit the North American coast over Mexico, north of Guadalajara. The shadow will then cross the border into the United States (where I will be, and hope that the shadow will not get stopped at the border) and head for Dallas. Millions of people in several major cities across the United States will enjoy a stunning experience of a total eclipse of the Sun, including San Antonio, Austin, Dallas, Indianapolis, and Carbondale. The shadow will cross the border into Canada, where cities like Hamilton, Niagara Falls, Kingston, most of the Thousand Islands in the St Lawrence River, and Montreal, will experience totality. Downtown Montreal will experience a twilight sky early in the afternoon—its street lights will switch on-- and then the shadow will race through Sherbrooke on its way towards Newfoundland. Finally, the shadow will head over the Atlantic Ocean where sunset will mark the end of this incredible, precious event. Virtually everyone else in the United States and most of Canada will see a partial eclipse during which a portion of the Sun will be blocked by the new Moon. For those readers planning to watch the eclipse, I have four salient pieces of advice. 1. Whenever any of the Sun is visible. It is vital to use special eclipse glasses. An unprotected view of the Sun could cause permanent blindness. However, when the total phase of the eclipse begins and the sun is completely covered by the Moon, take your glasses off and then enjoy the spectacle. I knew that even when, at age 15, I saw my first total eclipse with my parents, on July 20th, 1963. (My first eclipse, on October 2, 1959, with Mom and brother Gerry, was a partial.) In the minutes before the total phase began, I looked toward the west to watch the Moon’s ominous shadow approaching. At the onset of totality, I tore off my glasses and gazed at the atmosphere of the Sun. Dad had a fit. He raised his voice and demanded that I put my glasses back on. My solution: I put the glasses back on. Then I turned slightly away from Dad., and promptly took them off again. The simple rule is, if any of the Sun itself is visible, use the eclipse glasses. But when the Sun is totally covered by the Moon, all bets, and glasses, are off. 2. For readers who are very close to the Moon’s deep central shadow, so that, say, more than 99% of the Sun is covered by the Moon, nothing is gained. A 99.99% eclipse is still a partial eclipse. The closer to the path of the Moon’s shadow, the more important it is to make the effort to get into the shadow. 3. If the sky is clear the atmosphere of the Sun, the magnificent corona (roughly circular since the sunspot cycle is near its maximum) will prevent total darkness. If the sky is cloudy, then it could become very dark. By far the darkest total solar eclipse for me was on March 7, 1970 in Nova Scotia; the sky was covered by a layer of stratus cloud. It was so dark that I could barely see my fingers. 4. I can’t remember the fourth piece of advice. Viewing a total solar eclipse should be on everybody’s bucket list. It is a unique and unforgettable event. Surrounding the Sun, the brighter planets like Venus and Jupiter might appear, and although Comet Pons–Brooks will be in the sky northwest of Jupiter, about a quarter of the way between Jupiter and the Sun, it will probably be difficult to spot. I have seen 99 eclipses. If the sky is clear on the night of the full Moon on March 24/25, then I will see what is called a penumbral eclipse of the Moon during which the Moon is dimmed a bit by the outer shadow of the Earth. It will be what we call an almost total penumbral eclipse of the Moon during which almost all of the Moon will be embedded in the outer shadow of the Earth but none of the umbra, or inner shadow. That will be my 100th Eclipse. And then, the total eclipse on April the 8th will be my 101st. In his autobiography Starlight Nights, published in 1965, Leslie Peltier wrote about the first eclipse he saw on June 8, 1918. Revising a little bit, Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Peltier changed the original The hornéd Moon, with one bright star/ Within the nether tip. …to the less poetic but more correct, and surely more fun, “A hornéd Sun, with one dark Moon/Within its nether tip.”

The Purpose of a Museum

The more I run the American Doll and Toy Museum, the more I realize a lot of people of all ages have no clue what a museum is. “What is the purpose of this?” asked one woman in her seventies or early eighties. She grew up in our area, which has several museums besides ours, including The Putnam Museum, The German American Heritage Center, The Hauberg Indian Museum, and The Rock Island Historical Society, to name just a few. I don’t think she has been in any. She wanted to know if we bought and sold dolls and other things. No, I answered, we aren’t retail. Our purpose is to educate, and to tell the story of humanity through dolls and toys. Our collection represents Prehistory to the Present. Many of our artifacts also represent the ethnicities or our community. They tell the progress of immigration in our area. We also curate to preserve, even things no one else may want. We have several libraries of books about our objects, but also about them. Our best visitors are children twelve and under. They are fascinated by the antiques, and delight when they find something they recognize. They behave well, and aren’t jaded. Their favorite exhibits are Polly Pockets, My Little Pony, and Disney Princesses. I direct those who want to know more about to museums to the blog, “The Future of Museums.” My cousin who is a pastor, calls the museum a ministry for children, both because we try to preserve objects for posterity, but because we are dedicated to childhood and its pursuits, to a time more innocent than today. We a 501c not for profit; we do not make money in this venture, far from it. Dolls and toys are humanity’s historians. Dolls are often the only thing left to us from civilizations long gone from the earth, and are portraits of their creators. Brick and mortar museums exist to teach as well as entertain. There museums for kitchen utensils, washing machines, tractors, trucks, textiles and mores. What is our purpose? Come see us to find out, but if you have to ask, well . . .

American Doll and Toy Museum: Our Purpose

American Doll and Toy Museum: Our Purpose: The more I run the American Doll and Toy Museum, the more I realize a lot of people of all ages have no clue what a museum is. “What is the...

Green Living and Floral on Pinterest

Good morning 🌄 I just pinned lots of pics on Pinterest on my boards Floral and Green Living. Many are my plants at and trees.

Skyward Feb. 2024- the CAC, by Dr. David Levy

Skyward for February 2024. .David H. Levy This month I have a story to tell. A few nights ago two close friends from Plattsburgh, Ed Guenther and Wendy Gordon, enjoyed a very pleasant wintertime visit with me. During that time another close friend, David Rossetter, drove us to the Chiricahua Astronomy Complex in southeastern Arizona. Although the weather was clear and cold when we left, dense clouds formed quickly and within a few minutes it began to rain heavily. There was thunder, lightning, and a giant tornado that lifted our car into the stratosphere and then gently set it down back on the highway. It was frightening and we thought the car was going to crash, but when it gently came back to the highway, we drove on. By the time we arrived at our dark site, The sky was beautifully dark. The stars hung like baseballs from the sky. But it was so cold that our observing pad was covered with tons of ice. Yard-long icicles hung from our telescopes and from us. We needed and used cigarette lighters to free our frozen hands whenever they touched the eyepieces. I discovered 47 comets that night but forgot to report any of them. Ed disproved the theory of relativity by recalling how time always slows down when you are with your relatives. We finally needed to call 911 so that they could free our frozen forms and place them into makeshift crematoria. Three hours later they opened the doors of the crematoria and found all of us happy as clams to have warmed up as much as we did. We thank them, treated them to a giant banquet meal, and then headed home. There was a 95-piece symphony orchestra on hand, but since we were approximately 95 pieces short, we just sang an aria or two. ( I think that line comes from Victor Borge.) Dear readers, if you believe a word of what I just wrote, I have a bridge that I could sell you. It is true that I have two very dear friends named Ed and Wendy. It is also true that I have two other dear friends, David and Pam Rossetter. And David did drive us, plus telescopes, to the dark site and back. And now for a few corrections: Although it was cold that evening, we did enjoy a beautiful night of observing. Our first object was Jupiter, long my favorite planet. Although Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 would make Jupiter an obvious choice for that, it is not why Jupiter is my favorite planet. On September 1,, 1960, my parents and I looked through my first telescope, Echo. I wanted to look at the brightest thing in. the sky that evening. It was hanging in the south. When I finally found it, I was looking at Jupiter. I saw the disk of the planet, his four bright moons, and darker bands across the disk. I have never forgotten that night, and that is why Jupiter is my favorite planet. We then caught a good glimpse of Saturn’s exquisite rings. As I began a two hour visual comet search in the cold and lovely sky, the others enjoyed views of some lovely deep sky splendors. At last, I stumbled across Messier 15, that absolutely gorgeous globular cluster I now call Wendee’s cluster. As we warmed up on our way home, we placed into our memories a sparkling night none of us will soon forget. We had a clear sky, star-filled views, beautiful deep sky objects, and enough sky treasures to gladden our hearts and minds. Despite my continuing deep sense of loss, the exquisite night sky always warms my soul.