A Small Tort and a Comet

I had a very pleasant two hour walk to Farndon this afternoon, wandering through the Willow Holt nature reserve and back into town along the river. With only two weeks before I return, nervously, to work, I want to cram in as much outdoors time as possible.

The best sight today was a small tortoiseshell feeding off flowering teasel, while in town I discovered that a small colony of sand martins have nested in a spoil heap created by the excavation of the new marina.

Judging by the huge number of swifts now screaming over town, there's been a successful nesting season!

The most exciting thing I've done in the last 24 hours is spotting Comet Neowise. It's an easy naked eye object at the moment, and looks amazing in binoculars. However, finding it required walking up the street in my pyjamas at 330am to the library gardens in order to find a clear northern horizon, as it is a low object to find.

I rather feared being stopped by the police. Worth it, as it's the third best comet I've seen after Hale Bopp and Hayakutake in the mid 90s.

The planets too were on fantastic form, if big spheres of rock or gas can have form, with the moon and Mars close together, Jupiter and Saturn too a glorious pair, and Venus blazing low in the north-east.

It's been a good day.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 12.07.20

Gemind Meteors and Comet Wirtanen

Well, I was awake as the sun rose, awake as it set, there as the moon rose, and there as it set.

Only one of those times is significant, the time of moonset. For this would take its ivory glow out of the sky and let the night darken for the two major astronomical events of the night.

The Geminid meteors, and Comet Wirtanen.

I'll get the Geminid meteors out of the way first. These days it is regarded as the best UK meteor  shower to watch, not so much because of the number of meteors you see, but because unlike the Perseids in August, the radiant rises at a much earlier hour and you don't have to stay up till past 1am to get good shooting star views.

Although, you know, freezing cold.

They were actually quite disappointing! Yes I saw a few meteors, but nothing particularly bright, let alone spectacular. And fewer than I was expecting given that late on when I was observing the radiant wasn't far enough off the zenith. Boo hoo.

Now to Comet Wirtanen.

This comet has a period of 5 and a half years, is barely a mile across, and like most short period comets normally requires a telescope the size of a cannon to see it. But due to freak things like Newton's laws, the comet is in its best position for observation from the Earth. Of all time, past and future.

Last night, I managed to see it. OK, it was a misty blob of very low surface brightness about half the size of the full moon. Magnitude 3 maybe, but so diffuse the chance of seeing it naked eye as the newspapers have suggested are virtually zero unless you are in a dark  sky park at least 50 miles from the nearest glow-worm.

But I saw it!

I don't see many comets, so to see this misty blob is a rare treat. It made up for the underwhelming meteors. It also convinced me eyes are still just about OK too.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 14.12.18

Comet Catilina Fail!

After watching Stargazing Live - it is understandable given the adventures of Tim Peak, but not enough stars, too much hardware - I was inspired to have a little look for Comet Catilina, traversing space near Alkaid, the end star of the "Plough" part of Ursa Major.

It's been far too long since I've tried any astronomical observing with my binoculars, and was thus stricken with tremoring goggle eyes that got tired really really quickly, and also a degree of unsteadiness that made the simple task of focussing on a star and holding it vaguely near the centre of the field of view absolutely impossible.

Throw in subzero temperatures, and the realisation I had to be up for work in the morning, and it was an comet hunt under pressure.

I warmed up by having a quick scoot round Orion and Auriga, picking out old friends like the Great Nebula in Orion and the three Messier star clusters to be found in Auriga, before I headed to the other end of the drive in an optimum position to be drowned out by streetlamps and Polish bedroom illumination as little as possible.

So, my immediate sweeps around the tail of the Great Bear revealed nothing but faint stars and a slightly hazy darkness. But I persisted, and eventually found a fuzzy glow near a triangle of dim stars. "Huzzah!" I thought, until I realised that my 10x50s were still a fraction out of focus. A twiddle or two revealed a perfectly ordinary star.

Then I scanned a little further afield, and yes, there it really really was! A small fuzzy ball of coma with no tail visible. Well, it at magnitude 7 it was hardly ever going to be another Hale-Bopp. I went to bed thrilled with my discovery, only to realise on consulting a star map that I'd actually been looking at the galaxy Messier 101.

Grrrrrr!

The comet was actually much closer to Alkaid, where I'd already looked. I'm mystified as to how I could have spotted the galaxy and not the comet, only that it was slightly higher in the midnight sky and thus perhaps above the haze line.

If I get clear skies away from a moon, I will try again in the next couple of nights.

Really must get back in astro practice!

Si

All text copyright CreamCrackeredNature 16.01.16

The Philae Lander has Awoken!

Back in November, I wrote with sad eyes slightly shining, of how the Philae lander carried to Comet 67P by the European Space Agency Rosetta mission had finally run out of power after its landing on the comet's surface.

It had apparently settled in a dark ditch upon the surface, and was thus unable to properly recharge its batteries with its solar panels. After 60 hours of activity, the much anthropomorphised "plucky" little spacecraft finally went to sleep as its batteries dies, tweeting heroically all the while.

Here's what I wrote at the time.

But now, I read that the ESA have made contact with Philae again. As was hoped at the time - rather optimistically, I thought - the decreasing distance of the comet to the sun as it approaches perihelion has meant that the lander is now getting enough sunlight to charge its batteries and operate.

There is now the chance that we will see for the first time what happens on a comet's surface as a comet makes its closest approach to the sun, which could make for a heck of a spectacle as volatile gases erupt off the warming surface to form jets, and other material streams out to form the cometary tail.

But never mind the science, not when today's evens have given the ESA an opportunity to produce another cute cartoon!

Si

A Quick Glance at Comet Lovejoy

Seriously clear tonight, and the moon is well out of the way early evening. The comet is still in the same binocular field as gamma andromedae - which in my mind shall always be known as "the peach star" from now on.

Comparison indicates the comet to now appear almost identical to the Andromeda Galaxy nearby, so it is indeed fading, it was a couple of notches brighter a few nights ago. My eyes were trying to convince me a tail was visible tonight, but my brain is also trying very hard not to be fooled.

Other things were worth looking at on such a sharp night. Messier 42 in Orion is something we take for granted I think, being such an obvious object, but it is always worth looking at, illuminated by the hot young stars of iota, the so called "Trapezium". Messier 35 in Gemini was resolved by my 10x50s tonight, which is not always the case. All three Auriga clusters were visible, M36, M37 and M38, but don't ask me which is which.

Finally I had a look over at Jupiter through my sycamore tree. I had the usual shaky hands syndrome, which made the giant planet appear to be constantly looping the loop, but two moons were definitely visible, and there was possibly a third too.

All this visible in very average binoculars. So much to see up there, and you needn't spend a fortune.

Si

Comet Lovejoy: Not Dead and Loving it

On noticing the clear sky early evening when I got home, I rushed inside, grabbed the 10x50s - the 16x50s have been officially deemed "useless" for astronomical purposes - and without knowing where the comet would be, or once again whether I'd be able to see it at all, started waving the binoculars around in an unscientific search pattern.

Well alright, it had a bit more aim than that, I'm not an utter dunce. I'd last seen it in Triangulum and could extrapolate roughly where it might be when you join up the (stellar) dots back to the Pleiades and beyond.

I found it smack in the same binocular field as the exquisitely coloured double star gamma andromedae, at one end of the celestial princess. Obviously the secondary is invisible in my optics, but the primary alone makes up for it. I swear it is the only peach coloured star I've ever seen. It is beautiful.

As for the comet, it really hasn't faded much at all since perigee. No chance of a naked eye viewing, but it is still brighter and larger than the Andromeda Galaxy, a handy comparison being not far away. There is less detail apparent, any nucleus is hard to see, and the teardrop shape of early 2015 has now become more rounded. But it is still there, and even from a town garden, very easy to find as an early evening object, with the moon now starting to get out of the way somewhat.

I wish you luck finding it. The moon that wore a snow veil last night is now bright as a lamp, but the comet is very much there, and very much alive.

Si

Comet Lovejoy and the Triangle

Mananged to get a sneaky peak, as they say, at Comet Lovejoy after I arrived home from work.  It is easy to find despite the near first quarter moon, lurking in the same binocular field of view as Gamma Triangulum, the star that marks the eastern point of the base of the celestial triangle.

Again, there seems to be less structure around the nucleus; it may be because of the moon but the comet seems to be sporting a rather rounder, more evenly bright look than before. Perhaps it is because Lovejoy is getting further away.

I'd certainly recommend trying to get a look tonight or perhaps tomorrow night, because with the moon getting brighter, and the comet fading, it may get quite difficult to observe with binoculars.

Ah Triangulum, that most romatically named of constellations. The most does-what-it-says-on-the-tin constellation. It looks like a triangle, so they called it the Triangle. The Babylonians tried to be interesting and call it "The Plough" thousands of years ago, but the Greeks called it "Deltoton", because it looked like the Greek letter delta, which is triangle shaped. Since then, it has been "The Triangle" to Ptolemy and everyone else into the modern era. A boring name for a boring, three cornered little group of stars.

The actuality is that it is an interesting little patch of the sky, with Messier 33 the Triangulum spiral, also visible in binoculars; 3C 48, the first quasar to be observed, and various other nearby galaxies observable in moderate telescopes.

There are plenty of other dull constellations that could be called "Square", "Circle" or "Squiggly Line" but poor old Triangulum gets the bullet. Presumably a triangular one.

Si

After a Comet Lovejoy Holiday...

It's been a while since I've been able to observe the comet - put that down to cloudy skies, work schedules, and I'm afraid on one night a total inability to withstand the cold.

I thought it would be a rather more difficult object to find, having seen reports on twitter that it was now fading, but it was easily observable in my 10x50s despite the presence of a waxing crescent moon not too far away. It has now moved away from the Pleiades in a North Western path, and is now in the vicinity of Aries and Triangulum.

In fact the two stars that for the base of the narrow Triangulum triangle are almost pointing to it.

It has faded somewhat, but is still an easy object in binoculars and looks rather similar to the Andromeda galaxy at the moment. The condensation of the nucleus seems less apparent, but the teardrop shape is still present, although I can't get any hints of a tail. The magnitude is probably around 4.5 or so now, having dropped from the peak of 3.7-3.9 it seemed to reach at perigee.

If you wish to observe it, it is now an early evening object, culminating due south at 6-7pm.

Good luck spotting it!

Si

Comet Lovejoy, Venus and Mercury

So, it has been a busy old day, in the night sky.

I've been doing a lot of walking today, two of an hour duration each. On my second one, after the sun had set after a long day shining but not warming anything up in the slightest, I noticed Venus shining above the rooftops of the sheltered housing on Balderton Gate.

I gave my eyes a moment to adjust, and lo and behold, there was Mercury, looking slightly pinkish against the twilight, and considerably fainter than "the planet of love". It is only the second time I've ever seen it, and I was feeling rather proud of myself. It always makes me think of the beautiful transit sequence in the movie "Sunshine".

You can't see Mercury in the below mobile phone image, but it was at 3 o'clock from Venus about 3-4 degrees away.

After the sun had set, it was time for the sky to darken sufficient for Comet Lovejoy to be seen. I have had two looks at the comet again, and once again the sky is clear enough for it to be a just visible naked eye object with averted vision. 

In 10x50s the comet is barely out of the same field of view, WSW of the Pleiades cluster. Tonight, the condensed nucleus, and elongated teardrop coma were clear, and my eyes were trying to convince me there were hints of a tail. 

It's always such a danger, trying to convince yourself you are seeing things you expect or want to see. The same thing happened later on, when I wondered if I was picking up Barnard's loop around Orion on the binoculars. 

Aside from Comet Lovejoy, what I did definitively see was a lovely starry night. Starfields around Monoceros and Orion were beautiful - I saw all three of the main Monoceros clusters; The Christmas Tree, the Rosette and Messier 50, and all three Auriga Messier clusters. 

The night is yet young, so there's plenty of time for everyone to take a look up, optically aided or naked eye. It truly is beautiful up there.

Si

Comet Lovejoy Meets the Pleiades

Before the approaching storm blew in a mess of cloud to block out the starry sky, I managed to snatch a couple of glances of Comet Lovejoy, now moving rapidly north-east through the sky as it approaches perihelion in a few days time.

It was very easy to find tonight, almost in the same 10x50 field of view as the Pleiades, the glittering star cluster of the seven sisters in Taurus. I have observed the Pleiades many times over the years, and under really dark skies I've been able to see 8 or 9 of them, but tonight, it was the usual six.

One of the Seven Sisters is rather hard to spot from urban locations, in less than perfect skies.

The comet tonight was again less impressive than a few nights ago on account of the cloud, listed magnitude is around 3.9 which would put it as easy naked eye viewing under a dark clear sky, but in Newark tonight, there was neither.

It is still presenting as a teardrop shaped object, with the suggestion of a more condensed inner area, with a more elliptical, fainter outer.

Perhaps a little like a cross section of a malteser type "Revel"!

Si

Comet Lovejoy in the Newark Haze

Newark has always had a peculiar micro climate. The twin effects of the River Trent, the valley it flows along, and the emissions of the sugar factory, always seem to be the recipe for a hazy sky at certain times of the year. Sadly, tonight seems to be such an occasion; the night sky has an odd glow about it too, the reflection of the much mentioned sodium streetlights.

In the garden, the wind is still strong, moving the dangling chimes around with errie chings of metal on metal. A motorbike is growling in endless oblongs of irritation around the block. There are foxes too, howling in the distance.

Breeding season will soon be here, if this mildish winter hasn't triggered it already.

So it is an atmospheric night, but sadly, not a great one for comet observations. The haze might not be affecting star visibility too badly, but it is a deadly suffocant for the light of diffuse objects like comets and nebulae.

Nonetheless I was able to find the comet quite easily in my 10x50s, lurking rather closer to the Hyades now, almost in the same field as the star at the cluster apex. In appearance, there is a very definite elongation to the North-East, with hints of a tail, even in this poor seeing.

I've read the magnitude is now something around 3.9 which means under a clear moonless sky it should be easily visible to the naked eye, highest in the South at about 8pm-9pm. But in town, you will still need binoculars to get any kind of decent view of this once-every-eight-thousand-years visitor.

Who's eyes were watching Comet Lovejoy the last time it was here?

Si

Naked Eye Comet Lovejoy

After a day at work where the only view of the outside I had in twelve hours were snatches of the Showground fields being wheeled over by gulls painted scorching white by the sun, I was glad to return home to dark clear skies.

A chance to get the binoculars out again, and hunt down Comet Lovejoy.

I headed out into the garden, knowing that the comet was now skulking in a very undistinguished part of the sky in the badlands between Cetus and Taurus but thinking it might take a bit of finding. But before I even put my 10x50s to my wind blasted eyes, I felt I could see a very very dim blur with averted vision.

And I must have been right, because the comet was in the field of view as soon as I looked.

The comet looks markedly different with the moon out of the way. Easier to see, obviously, but also more condensed. It is a definite grey-green tear drop shape now, and there might just have been a very faint hint of tail.

As I became more dark adapted, it became clear that the comet was visible to the naked eye with averted vision, although it felt like I was straining my eyes so hard they began to stream. I'd put the magnitude at about 4.5 perhaps a little better, and far easier to see than the open cluster Messier 34 in Perseus not too far away, by means of comparison with another fuzzy object. It looked smaller than Andromeda, but more condensed at its core.

It is past nearest point to Earth now, that was a few days ago when the moon was still a nuisance, but it may still get a little brighter as it reaches perihelion in a week or two.

First Sight of the New Comet Lovejoy

A little over a year ago, I was writing excitedly about spotting Comet Lovejoy, a 4th magnitude object seen in the morning sky in Cancer near the famous beehive cluster. It was a bitter night, and it seems I was well dressed and "fortified" against the cold.

2013 Comet Lovejoy Observation

Last night was probably colder, and hampered by a near full moon dominating the southern sky. I also had a 6am cycle to work ahead of me and was nervously anticipating another icy and nervy slideathon on untreated roads. I thought I had no chance of spotting it.

But I grabbed the 10x50s, tried to get out of the way of the trees and streetlights, and waved my binoculars underneath Orion like a drunk with a shotgun. I thought I had no chance of seeing it, but below Rigel, to the north-east of a star that may have been 11 Eridani, I came across a grey green elongated blurry patch in the binocular field of view.

Passing through a very barren part of the sky, it was the new Comet Lovejoy, 2014 edition, dallying with the trees and rooftops. Even with the strong moonlight it was easy to see, but harder to describe; it was rather like looking at a more condensed version of the galaxy Messier 33, a ghostly smear on the dark window of the sky. It seemed to be longer in the direction of Rigel and Orion's belt, but it was hard to make out real detail. 

But it was a comet, and I don't see many! I suspect in a week or two, as the comet moves higher and further into the evening sky, and the moon gets out of the way, it might present quite an impressive binocular sight although I doubt it will be a naked eye object from my urban garden. 

To find it, use this guide ; Position of Comet Lovejoy through January  - to put it simply, for the next week, look to the right of Orion in the sky with your binoculars, from the darkest spot in your locality you can find.

Si

The Lullaby of Philae

"My #lifeonacomet has just begun @ESA_Rosetta. I'll tell you more about my new home, comet #67P soon… zzzzz #CometLanding"

So read the last tweet from the Philae lander, sat in its awkward little shady spot on the surface of Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko. Unable to recharge its solar powered batteries, the power threshold was breached and the probe fell silent. Just minutes before, the probe was jauntily telling us that it knew time was short, but it would carry out its experiments and send its date back to Earth via its Rosetta mother ship to the very end.

On twitter, thousands of people tweeted their support for the plucky little lander, making it the number one trending topic, before they watched its dignified end with tears in their eyes.

It wasn't actually Philae tweeting; it was a PR worker for the European Space Agency. Philae is a (much quoted) "washing machine" sized instrument package and landing system that landed on Comet 67P last Wednesday. It is not a person.

Artist's impression of Philae coming into land (DSL on Wikimedia)

But no-one treated it like that.

Some people profess to dislike this "anthropomorphising" of non human entities. But in this case the ESA PR guru was doing their job, and brilliantly at that. Philae isn't even alive, yet we have seen it as a courageous, independent little robot engaged in a life or death struggle in a hostile environment far from home. We have created human interest in the inanimate, a huge human interest that will help help to justify to their Governmental backers that their investment was worthwhile, let alone the huge amount of science Philae has carried out in its short lifespan on the surface.

Then there are the scientists, who have put perhaps twelve years of their lives into Rosetta and Philae. They must have got to the point of seeing Philae as being alive too.

Someone on twitter said that Philae wasn't David Bowie's Major Tom. I agree. Philae was the Tin Can, while we were the Major Toms, projecting our hopes, our optimism, our dreams of success and our fears of loneliness and abandonment. We gave it a soul. Philae lifted our eyes away from a world of Ebola and religious wars,and grinding low paid employment into a world where the human race is still capable of wonderful things.

No wonder we wanted it to be alive.

And so many of us were awake towards 1am, watching the little spaceship slip into deep hibernation, and perhaps thinking of Huey, the little robot from Douglas Trumbull's classic ecological sci-fi movie "Silent Running", tending his plants with his little watering can as his space greenhouse drifts off into the forever void.

And perhaps we had a moist eye or two as we tweeted a lullaby to the craft, although, you know, I have a very heavy cold. It was probably that. Or maybe something in my eye. Yes, that was it.

After all, who gets sentimental over a washing machine sized chunk of metal on a lump of ice?

Copyright Creamcrackerednature 15.11.2014

Late Night with Comet Jacques

One simply cannot just go to bed when there are clear skies, so last night, 2am was the time for my date with the stars.

So,armed with a little fortification - not much needed, as it was a mild night - I got some observations done. Sky conditions were not as good as previous nights, as there was a little cloud in the air that thickened as my session went on. But I was able to correct my Messier 2 navigation errors, finding it with the use of averted vision. Messier 15 was also observed, as well as lots of other little bits and pieces of starfield and cluster, galaxy and great inky blackness out to the edge of near infinity 32 billion or so light years away.

Saving the best for last again, I now craned my way awkwardly up to the Zenith, where Cassiopeia the queen of the sky lives at this time of year.

Once again, I wasn't sure where the comet was actually going to be, but whatever of my brain is left these days, I used, and tracked it from my previous observations to a point halfway between Cassiopeia and her King, Cepheus. It was harder to see than previous nights, and as I said before, really reminds me of observing the Messier 33 Triangulum Spiral.

Lucky for me that I just love being able to see comets then!

A Naughty Look at Comet Jacques 26.08.15

I should have been in bed. I really should have been in bed. But after my usual evening faff of sandwich making and medication taking, I took a look outside and found a clear sky smiling velvetly down at me.

I should have gone to bed, I had a cycle ride and an early start at work, but I couldn't help it. I don't like wasting skies clear enough to see the milky way plunging its way down through Cygnus. So out came the 10x50s, and out went I.

I warmed up with the usual appreciation of the Cygnus milky way, written about so many times, before trying to find Messier 2 from memory. A very faulty memory as I've just realised I was looking in totally the wrong place by Pisces' tail. Not very smart. However, I was able to see Messier 15 in Pegasus, before I adjudged my eyes dark adapted enough to try and find the comet.

I had a rough idea of where it would be although I hadn't consulted any maps or suchlike, but was still surprised to find it so quickly. To be honest, in my 10x50s , it isn't an amazing sight, but it's the excitement of seeing it that counts. It reminded me rather of the appearance of Messier 33 Triangulum Spiral, if a little easier to see due to being more condensed, it had the same sort of skewed elliptical appearance.

I'd say position wise it formed a rough equilateral triangle with gamma and beta Cassiopeii, magnitude about 7. But I didn't really have long to study it, for my eyes were growing heavier by the second, reproaching me with the thought of a 6am start.

So I let the comet be, for it must be awful to have all those folk gawping at you with their binoculars and telescopes all of the time. Bedtime it was.

Yes! Comet Jacques Observed!

The news that Comet Jacques was going to be easy to find in Cassiopeia was, well, news to me. Obviously I'd known that this comet was going to be an observable object at some point - it has been discussed more or less throughout the year - but for some reason I always felt that it was just going to be out of reach with my 10x50s from my town garden.

However, I saw on twitter last night that it was going to be close to Delta Cassiopeii  and resolved to take a look once Cassiopeia had risen above the trees and rooftops that overlook my garden.

So, out I went at 2am with a fortifying drink, and got nice and dark adapted while letting my eyes take in the crystalline river of stars flowing south from Cygnus. It's always such a beautiful sight in my 10x50s, countless little star clusters and asterisms waterfalling down to Scutum on the horizon.

I couldn't find Messier 2, the Aquarius globular, but Messier 15 was visible, and it was clear enough to have a great view of the Triangulum spiral Messier 33. Nearby, the Pleiades had risen, the dread signal of colder months, and Capella's golden hue was also prominent by now.

Turning my attention now to the comet, I found it, but it was a tricky object and I had to check afterwards that it wasn't one of the numerous open clusters that Cassiopeia abounds in. It was fainter than the nearby NGC663 and Messier 103, and other than a noticeable elongation of the grey-green smudge, I couldn't really make out any detail. Certainly it was much less impressive than the comet from earlier in the year I observed in Ursa Major...can't remember the name alas. It was a seventh magnitude object I'd say.

But still, it was another comet I have observed, and I was really pleased to "tick it off." To think of these lumps of ice, tens of thousands of years out into the far reaches of their orbits, or perhaps even languishing in the Oort Cloud a light year away, always moves me.

Deep space is a cold, dark wonderland of mystery.

Alas Comet ISON, I never knew you

You may well have read my blogs talking about my observations of Comet Lovejoy, but there was always an underlying hint in my writing, I think,  that I was hoping for something bigger and better elsewhere...

My attempts to view ISON were always thwarted. Clear skies at the wrong time, clear skies when I was asleep, a bad horizon from my urban location. I woke up at 5am one day to try and observe it, then probably fell asleep again. A few more days and ISON was much too close to the sun to observe from any Earth based observatories. It was up to the battery of solar observation satellites out in space to try and keep us in the picture.

And it was looking really good, for a just a painfully short time. After some earlier reports suggesting that ISON was already starting to disintegrate, the comet passed through a rough patch, and then brightened rapidly. By the time of perihelion, the comet had reached an estimated magnitude of about 0, and was showing a beautiful pair of tails - a dust tail, and the straighter, narrower ion tail.

ISON just before perihelion 28.11.13, image from NASA SOHO satellite.

ISON then whipped out of view behind the sun for a short time, and observers held their breath. By the time it reached its closest point to the sun, at less than a million miles, ISON was being heated to 4000K and was travelling at 800,000 mph - 0.11% of the speed of light.

ISON was travelling so fast, it was undergoing relativistic effects. Time was running slower for the comet!

Clearly subject to such temperatures and forces, it was never a given that the comet's one mile or so nucleus would survive. Initially, it seemed that nothing had survived, but then this SOHO picture gave hope.

Had Comet ISON (at 11 o'clock) survived?

Something had clearly made it around perihelion, but what?

Hopes were high that some, or perhaps even all, of ISON's nucleus had survived, but then sadly, it became apparent that the image captured above was just a remnant of gas and dust from the comet's tail, with no solid nucleus present. Over the next two days, it gradually smeared out, and disappeared to nothing.

It may be that the comet springs one last surprise on us; the debris around its orbit may give us a new meteor shower when the earth crosses ISON's orbital path early next year. But this is unknown at present.

Comet ISON may be dead, and I may be sad to never have seen it. But the study of this comet, and the interest it generated, was unprecedented, and that is Comet ISON's legacy.

Now get your binoculars out, and look for Comet Lovejoy!

Copyright Cream Crackered Nature 02.12.2013

Comet Lovejoy, with Rum this time

Last night was clear, but pretty cold out. This time of year, my scale of sky clarity is usually based around “How well can I see Lepus tonight?”, and last night most of the stars of this fairly undistinguished constellation below Orion were in view from my urban garden, as was the tail of the Great Dog next door.

Behatted and begloved, and fortified with a rum and coke, I headed out at 2am with my 10x50s, and took in a few easy targets while dark adapting. Messier 41 was an easy spot last night, below Sirius, and as always, the starfields of Orion and Monoceros were an attractive sight to sweep lazily around. I spotted the Christmas Tree cluster in Monoceros, looking like exactly that, a tiny inverted Christmas tree, and the Rosette cluster nearby, almost in the same binocular field of view.

Messier 35 in Gemini was spotted, and high above all three Messier clusters in Auriga too. As ever I gave special attention to Kemble’s Cascade, and took in the faint mag 9 stars that form a long straight line in between the brighter stars.

Now it was time to comet hunt.

I didn’t actually know where Comet Lovejoy was, I hadn’t looked up its position, so took a guess that it was near Cor Caroli in Canes Venatici somewhere, beneath Ursa Major. I initially panicked when it wasn’t, but some slow sweeping picked up further east, roughly halfway between Alkaid and Cor Caroli about a degree NE of a 6^th magnitude star.

Last night it was showing at about the same brightness as my last sighting, about mag 4.5 at a guess, and very definitely elongated in a NW direction. To my eyes there were definite hints of a tail visible, as well as some uneven structure in the coma. It no longer has a globular cluster feel about it in the 10x50s. There was a last quarter moon interfering with my view a little, but it was still a good sight.

Seeing as more and more reports suggest Comet ISON is in the process of disintegrating, Lovejoy is probably the only comet I shall observe at this time of the year. And I'm glad I found it.

Copyright Cream Crackered Nature 26/11/2013

Comet Lovejoy and Cachaca

As the sun set last night, I watched the rainy skies catch fire in the west, and then watched intrigued as the cold weather front cleared the sky, a long purple-grey to blue divide advancing from the horizon.

I was excited. This meant clear skies later, this meant comet hunting. Never mind the cold.

And by 2am, it was really cold. No dark rum in the house, so I whipped up a rather crude sort of capirinha affair with Christmas present cachaca, and headed outside.

I took a look at the moon first, a couple of days past full, but it was a very wobbly moon as I struggled to keep my shivery hands still. It was obviously going to wash out decent deep sky observing, so I headed over to the non obstructed garden view to the North-East, lifted up my binoculars to my eyes, expecting a difficult search…

….and it was there straightaway!

I suspect without the moonlight it would have been a much more impressive sight than it was. About half a degree, or nearer, to a 5^th mag star in the lower reaches of the Great Bear, Comet Lovejoy was presenting as an elongated “splodge” now rather larger and brighter looking than Messier 13 (as I observed it a week or so ago), and again with the sort of two distinct degrees of condensation I reported previously.

To my eyes, there was no sign of the green colour very apparent in photographs and from other observer reports. There was a tantalising hint of tail pointing to the North-West, but no amount of averted vision could persuade even me I was seeing a tail.

And no amount of cachaca would either. So I headed inside for an impromptu fried egg sandwich and a cup of tea, to warm me up!

Copyright Cream Crackered Nature 19/11/13