Last night, I walked my dogs out into the backyard to do their dirty, sinful business. I stood on the patio, breathed in the frigid night air, and looked up into the clear November sky. Sirius flashed low on the Eastern horizon, Orion rose majestically above, and I scanned the sky from horizon to horizon, picking out familiar constellations along the way. I thought of all the times I bundled my kids up in sleeping bags, and with the red flashlight and star chart, took them through the stories of Cassiopea's Boast, of Orion and Artemis, and showed them nebulae and galaxies through a telescope. I'll never, ever forget the gasp of joy and awe that came out of Ryan the first time he looked at the surface of the moon, and how excited Nolan was to see M42 in Orion.
In 2001, Anne and I took the kids out to the desert to watch the Leonid meteor storm. It was just above freezing, but we bundled up in blankets and layers and fuzzy hats and mittens, sat on the edge of a hill and watched the celestial fireworks together. The kids were both in elementary school at the time, and we kept them out the following day, with their teacher's permission, as long as they wrote a report on the event. Ryan drew pictures of shooting stars on a grocery bag, Nolan stopped counting at 100, and we all built a memory that we cherish to this day.
This weekend, the Leonids could be really incredible again, especially if you live on the East side of North America or in Western Europe. According to Space.com:
A rather narrow but dense ribbon of dust was shed by comet Temple-Tuttle when it passed the Sun in 1932. When the Earth interacted with that dusty trail back in 1969, it produced a brief bevy of some 200 to 300 meteors in less than hour.I have always preferred stargazing in Winter over Summer, because the air here in Southern California is still and clear, and there isn't an inversion layer to trap dust and smog like there is in the warmer months. I love the cold air on my face and in my lungs, and the feeling that I'm braving that trecherous 49 degree weather* to sit outside and look into outer space. Though it's unlikely the pod people will give up a Saturday night to hang out with their totally lame stepdad, I have fresh batteries in my red flashlight, and my star chart is ready to go, just in case I can convince them to trek up into the mountains this weekend to see the remnants of the 2006 Leonids.
In 2006, Earth will be nearly twice as far away from the comet as opposed to 1969, but expectations are that as many as 100 to 150 Leonids may streak across the sky in only an hour’s time as we interact with that decades-old ribbon of debris again.
The expected time of peak activity is 11:45 p.m. EST on the night of Nov. 18.
For those living in eastern North America, the constellation of Leo will be rising in the eastern sky. Unfortunately, those living across the central and western parts of the United States and Canada will be out of luck, since Leo will not yet have risen and the expected peak of the display will be over when Leo finally comes above the horizon.
Skywatchers in Western Europe will have ringside seats: The peak is due early on Sunday morning, Nov. 19 at 4:45 GMT. Leo will be high in the southeast sky, just before sunrise affording the very best Leonid views.
*The rest of the country, where it actually gets, you know, cold, can point and laugh, now.
