Pluto is, isn’t, is, a planet
A question at Perkins Observatory by a very intelligent fourth grader reminded me recently that certain scientific controversies never really go away.
A question at Perkins Observatory by a very intelligent fourth grader reminded me recently that certain scientific controversies never really go away.
As with any worthy endeavor, it takes time to become a good stargazer. Even the smallest telescopes and binoculars are spaceships to other worlds, but you have to learn to run the controls.
Sirius, the Dog Star, is deeply a part of our modern mythology. People still refer to the dog days of summer, but few know that they are referring to the brightest star in the nighttime sky. In August, Sirius rises with the sun. The ancient Greeks believed that the intense glow of the star added to the sun’s heat, leaving us with those nasty, late-summer days.
Sirius, the Dog Star, is deeply a part of our modern mythology. People still refer to the dog days of summer, but few know that they are referring to the brightest star in the nighttime sky. In August, Sirius rises with the sun. The ancient Greeks believed that the intense glow of the star added to the sun’s heat, leaving us with those nasty, late-summer days.
The week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve is the time we think about time, and it’s about time that we reflect on this most puzzling aspect of astronomy.
Recent events at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut remind me of the necessity of our mission at Perkins Observatory.
If anyone is expecting me to write about the Mayan apocalypse supposedly coming up on the Winter Solstice, Dec. 21, then you will be disappointed. The supposition is so much bull that it isn’t worth the expenditure of ink or electrons to discuss. But speaking of bull, an event is occurring there that is worthy of observation.
The holiday season is upon us. Most folks are filled with the joy that rises out of mass consumption, but I am feeling a few misgivings. I know that more than a few telescopes and binoculars will be sitting under trees on Dec. 25. Many of these marvelous optical instruments will sit idle until March as their owners huddle with cold-weather dread inside their houses.