Jovian Satellites

Surprise Visitors

Happy FRIIIDAY, everyone!

I’m doing two talks about old-time blues today, with a mention of the legendary Blind Lemon Jefferson. If you haven’t heard “See That My Grave is Kept Clean”, well, dig this link:

If I could talk with Blind Lemon Jefferson, well, I wouldn’t, opting for silence instead while he played his mystical guitar style, and spun stories in that haunting voice.

However, once the tales were done for the day, if he asked what Jupiter looked like the other night, I’d say “Well, glad you asked, Mr. Jefferson. You see, my Friday posts are dedicated to alt-text descriptions of space and…”

(Hopefully I wouldn’t be so square - but Jupiter looked snazzy Wednesday.)

What Jupiter Looked Like Wednesday Evening

The sun had just set. Clouds bunched low in the southwest, but Venus, Jupiter, and Mars shone brightly in a clear, cloud-free sky lane.

Huffing and puffing, I lugged the old-school eight inch reflector out by the fence, let it cool for a bit, and popped the binoviewers in.

This lets me use two eyes instead of one. Seeing “in stereo” is especially cool on the moon, and works great for planets, too.

We hear in stereo with two ears, and apparently, snakes can “smell” in stereo. That forked tongue serves a purpose, letting ol’ Mr. Snaky tell which way the scent is drifting. But I digress…

Earth’s turbulent upper atmosphere made Jupiter appear to shimmer slightly. If it were a voice, it would have had a hint of trembling, sounding nervous.

The disc of the planet was off white, with a hint of beige or tan. The two main cloud belts stood out clearly as stripes of dark brown. The Great Red Spot wasn’t visible. Either it had rotated out of view, or the air was too turbulent to let the details emerge.

A day on Jupiter is only about ten hours, and this rapid rotation causes the planet to bulge out slightly at the equator. It’s not entirely round.

The four Galilean satellites - moons observed by Galileo - presented as tiny dots, not quite points, obviously miniature discs. Their movement around Jupiter is apparent over the course of an observing session, and can sometimes even be spotted in real time. I’ve watched Io move in front of Jupiter once in a transit event.

These four moons (satellites) caused lots of trouble back in the day.

“Hey, there’s something orbiting Jupiter instead of us. What gives?”

Observing Jupiter never gets old. As I marveled, a speck of light streaked through the view, a “falling star”. I could watch it for as long as it takes to say “hello!” and then it was gone.

An earth-bound satellite had gone right in front of Jupiter at exactly the right time, zipping by on its near-Earth orbit, as if to wave hello.

Satellites everywhere!

Other Sights

Mars, receding in it’s orbit, appears to grow smaller in the eyepiece over the weeks. It still looked great, with that rusty orange hue, a faint smudge of surface markings, and a hint of a polar cap.

Low above the sunset, Venus was brilliant with a telescopic view, but…she was having a meltdown. The turbulent air made her unstable and weepy, the image boiling and dancing around.

I almost said “There there, I understand…that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

Fortunately, my masculine ineptitude wasn’t put to the test, and and planet can’t snap

Don’t try to fix it, OKAY?

After all, it was just astronomy. Whew.

In the southeastern sky, Orion was well up, and Canis Major, his Great Hunting Dog, looked like he was sniffing at the radio tower on top of the mountain. (Sirius is the alpha star here.)

“Come on, buddy, not here.” Orion seemed to tug him along.

Grinning, I went back inside.

Treasures from Earth

It’s been a week for music history lectures. That sounds important and dignified. I might grow arrogant. Don’t worry.

Yesterday’s first program was for dementia patients, the magic of Scott Joplin set in an interactive, hands on, conversational way.

Oh I was ready with my expertise. A nurse gathered residents.

“Come watch the story, Ms. Jackson.”

(Whispering loudly) “He looks retarded.”

What can you do?

“It’s the suspenders, isn’t it?”

(Or maybe the yellow converse shoes.)

Humbled, I told them the story of Dvorak coming to America. Today I’ll talk about delta blues. The clever tie between these is Dvorak’s weaving of American folk tunes into his New World Symphony.

But even the mighty Czech composer started somewhere. His roots were in the folk music of his land, as our American rock ‘n roll roots are in the Delta. Here’s one of his early works, presented in a lively style.

See you Monday,

-Josh