I opened the door to get the milk in at half past five this morning and was greeted by the most spectacular sight: a rising crescent moon; a bright planet very close to it; Orion striding away from it. And other stars.
I’ve been trying half-heartedly to get better at identifying constellations over the last decade or so. I’ve known Orion and the Great Bear (/Plough/Saucepan/Charles’s Wain) since childhood; Cassiopeia is easy enough to identify, if not to spell; Andromeda, with her boxy body and flailing limbs, is quite distinctive. About five years ago I got Cygnus pinned down: great big cross, and we’re in the northern hemisphere.
Recently I read this fascinating piece about the Pleiades, and that taught me that Orion is chasing Taurus, the bull. This morning I looked at Orion and then looked to the right, and there they were, though I couldn’t parse the bull-shape. And I remembered that Sirius is the brightest star in the sky and is also part of Orion’s dog, though again, I couldn’t really make out the rest of the constellation. Still, little by little I’m building up my map.
I loaded up Stellarium and discovered that the planet was Jupiter. Mars was also around, though much less striking. (In fact it turns out that the Moon and Jupiter get very close indeed today, though it’ll be too light to see Jupiter where I am. So I’m feeling quite pleased to have noticed the beginning of a significant astronomical event without knowing it was going to happen.) Then I went back inside – the milk had to go into the fridge, after all – and got down my analogue star map and the Philips Guide to the Night Sky. Sir Patrick Moore says that some people think that autumn skies are not so good for stargazing, but that they are wrong. I agree. Although he sees the fact that Orion doesn’t rise until the morning as a disadvantage, and today that’s not the case at all.
The sky was lightening as I left the house, and there was the beginning of a fine red sky visible from the top of the hill. Down by the railway (and, more to the point, down by the river), the mist had rolled in, though, and on the train there was only soft blackness in the windows. That, and the fact that I had to run for the train, is why you get a very human-made star in the photo on this post.
Last week I cleared all the old train tickets out of the pockets of my reflective cycling jacket. A few from September. Lots from May. I hadn’t realised I was wearing it all the way into the summer. So perhaps that means nine months of starry mornings still to come.
