The Nids

Every year, since I started paying attention to the sky, I've heard about the Perseids and the Leonids. August and November, here come the shooting stars, have your wishes ready.

Mike was at his friend David's the other night -- David has a new telescope. Mike, who, like me, got nothing out of either the Perseids or Leonids this year, saw four meteors and was pretty pleased about it. ("What did you wish for?" "Uh." [He clearly forgot to wish.] "Nothing, because I don't believe in that stuff." [Bad save.]) He told me that "apparently there was a meteor shower and it was expected to be pretty good."

I dare say. Yesterday I checked news sites: a strong meteor shower peaks Monday night. Ah, so it's true. Okay, but then., in that article, it said, "The Geminid meteors are usually the most satisfying of all the annual showers, even surpassing the famous Perseids of August."

What? I have never bundled up for the Geminids before -- why. in three years of stargazing, am I just now learning that they are the "most satisfying"?

So, when I woke tonight, around 3:30 a.m. (well after the shower peak), I ran outside (barefoot, t-shirt, cropped sweatpants that I want to be buried in), zoomed my stare at Castor and Pollux (I can navigate to anything near Orion's belt), and -- swishpoof! -- a meteor burned obligingly.

Then I hopped back inside, it being 41F ("feels like 35") or 5C ("feels like 2") and me being old and my days of walking through knee-high snow to the mailbox wearing nothing but moon boots and a mid-thigh nightie are long over.

I won't tell what I wished for, other than to say that this time I didn't try to pack everything short of world peace into it with all the disclaimers to prevent a "be careful what you wish for" scenario.

I do wish the telescope wasn't packed for any-minute-now-fret-fret moving and that someone was around to put shoes and a coat on me and a thermos of hot choc in my hands and push me out the door -- the sky is brilliantly clear (for my light-polluted street) tonight. I could see four of the Pleaides (Atlas, Maia, Alcyone, and the ever-popular Electra). I could see the fuzz of the Orion Nebula, where nanny gases are crooning young starstuff into new twinklies. Betelgeuse was quietly red, reminding me to look hard, for it could supernova any day (or century) now. I'd say it's about a 4.0 magnitude, or at least it was an hour ago.

Jupiter's easy to see these days, if you're keeping these hours. I embarrassed myself to the nearby rocks and wind when a few days ago I wondered, "Hey, what's that star that's brighter than Sirius, the brightest star in the sky? Hmm." (Er, must be a planet, then... oops.)

The Geminids are a secret only to inexperienced gaze-pups like myself. This NASA article discusses their debatable origin. (Do the Geminids break tradition and descend from an asteroid, not a comet?)