John Burridge

Tuesday night, after a rainy and grey afternoon, the clouds broke up enough so I could see the one-day-old Grand Conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn.  They were already moving apart, and if I'd really really wanted to see the conjunction on Monday night, I would have hopped into the car and gone some place like Crater Lake.   Tuesday night was clear enough to also show the Half Moon inching closer to Mars near the meridian.  

Around five, I set up the tripod and camera across the street and snapped a few photographs.  Since it was shining on our rooftop anyway, with a little repositioning I was able to compose a shot of our Holiday Star and the planets.  Spencer's Humans were coming out of their house, and I called them over to see the conjunction and briefly commiserate about Monday's cloud cover.  

Later Mark and I went walking a little after six to the top of the hill and managed to catch the pair before they sunk behind the south hills (and it turned out there were some clouds coming in from the west).  Saturn was very clearly a dimmer companion to Jupiter, and we wondered how someone might confuse it with The Star of the East without throwing Venus into the mix.  

We found a spot on the hill near the place where I photographed comet NEOWISE last Summer (which seems like an eon ago) and gazed at the conjunction.  Mark seemed surprised that a planetary viewing could lead to smooching; I think he suspected supposed astrological romantic influence.  "They're just rocks, and they're actually really far apart," he said before I kissed him again.

We were lucky enough with the weather that around 4:30 or so, it looked like there would be a break in the clouds.  I didn't think it would happen; last night it rained so hard that water seeped under our back garage door, and although this morning I could see Venus, by mid-morning it was back to felt grey skies spitting rain down on us. 

However, when I glanced out the back window around four, I caught sight of the sickle moon and readied my tripod and camera.  Thick strands of cloud stretched from the west as they passed overhead.  When I went out a little before five, I could only see the moon (and the rose-tinted clouds).

I set the tripod up at the entrance to our driveway and took a few shots of the solitary moon.  Shortly, Jupiter blazed out from behind the clouds; Saturn was still hidden.  I took a few more photos, and realized that I needed to move across the street.  I was slightly disappointed that the night before hadn't cleared up, because the Moon would have been about half the distance it currently was from the planetary pair... but, a thirteen degree separation between a crescent moon and the two wouldn't be impossible to work with.

When Mark and The Child came out of the house a few moments later to retrieve the dog from doggy-daycare, there was a little grumbling that it was dark and hard to see the porch steps (I had turned off the porch light and unplugged the decorations).  

"I'll be done and turn the lights back on soon," I said.

"Ha!" Mark said.  They drove off.

By now the clouds appeared to be thinning.  I fiddled around with f-stops and exposure times (always bracket your shots).  When clouds veiled the planets, I took some artistic shots of the moon.  Before I knew it, the sky had cleared considerably, and I was able to get some clear shots of the three luminaries.

I used the camera's extreme zoom capabilities to frame just Saturn and Jupiter.  The lens is strong enough to show Jupiter's Galilean moons, but not strong enough to resolve Saturn's rings -- so Saturn looks like an almond.  I didn't realize it at the time, but I zoomed in just as one of the Galilean moons was coming out from behind Jupiter, and as I reviewed photos later, I saw it draw farther away.  

Mark, The Child, and Aoife came back.  (And the lights were still off.)  Aoife thought I was a Monster (or something) and barked like she was going to eat me when she first saw me.  Then when I spoke, after which she pulled and yammered until Mark brought her over.  

"Oh my God," Mark said.  "Why are you in the street?  You're in [the neighbor]'s parking space.  I thought you were on the sidewalk.  No one can see you, you know." 

"The view's better from here," I said.  

Mark turned to The Child, "Artists!  They don't think about safety. This is why so many people got hurt making Spider-Man, the Musical." They retreated to the house for dog-feeding.

I snapped a few more photos, then stopped to appreciate the display.  

Fingers crossed Jupiter and Saturn will be visible the night of the 21st. 

Saturn and Jupiter are drawing close together.  They're eleven days out from their Grand Conjunction.  I figured I should start photographing them now, as the cloud cover makes astrophotography at this time of year a crap shoot.  Actually, the more I think about it, it seems axiomatic that if it is the Winter Solstice, it's going to be pouring buckets... which... actually, thinking about it more, given the number of Winter Solstices where I've celebrated by candlelight from fire ignited by the Solstice Sun, maybe it pours buckets less than I think.

 I'm looking forward to next week, when the crescent moon will swing by Saturn and Jupiter.