Night at the Observatory

Author's note: This is the first of what I call "resurrected pieces from my recreational writing," composed before I started my Sands to Stars blog. First is a tribute to the night, with links to appropriate music, written Aug. 4, 2022:

What's it like to spend a clear summer night at the observatory?

Why, it's simply astronomical, of course.

Photo by Phil Breidenbach. 

The gathering is a star party that brings the cosmos to Earth to a wide-eyed general public, but ends with the bleary eyes of intrepid, joyful amateur astronomers who endure until daybreak on a rural hilltop.

It is easy to be overcome by emotion, because the inspirational sky views are spectacular, from those offered by the larger telescopes inside the building to their smaller, mobile cousins on the lawn. The instruments beckon all curious eyes.

So with the help of some my favorite musical artists who have shared their wonderful audio inspirations online, here is a sonic voyage from sundown to just after sunup!

1. Leaving home: Behind the wheel of the car on a late afternoon, traveling to the observatory with eyes, of course, on the road ahead, but a mind that yearns to wander off into the universe. Enjoy the drive along “Anasazi Roads” with Michael Gettel.

2. Is this the way a child feels on Christmas morning? Ah, anticipation! Upon arrival at the observatory and with an approving look at that clear sky, one finds it difficult to dismiss that I-can't-wait feeling: “Here Comes the Night,” prelude and full song, by Third Force.

3. The Sun at last dips to and below the horizon, yet its light still bathes the Earth and sky. While there are no planets visible in the evening sky – they're mostly predawn objects now – we strain until we can see the first, brightest stars that pierce the “Dusk” by Elizabeth Naccarato.

4. The Moon, just shy of its first-quarter phase, is dominating the early evening sky with its soft light. Stark craters and dark “seas” help to hypnotize an earthly audience: “Lunar Monsoon” by Spencer Brewer. Soon, our planet's satellite will sink below the horizon, and the night will become spectacularly dark.

5. Now that the darkness is overpowering, our eyes are drawn to the stellar points of light and deep space, to nebulae, clusters and galaxies. So breathtaking! Explore your astronomical “Dreams” with the Rippingtons (by the way, this was the unofficial theme song of Wagman Winterfest, a winter star party once held near Pittsburgh).

6. There is an overwhelming perception that makes us feel small in front of this expansive cosmos, yet somehow it reminds us we are all part of this big show. And our minds are intoxicated with its beauty. “Skywatching” by Michael Gettel.

7. Saturn, Jupiter and Mars are starting to rise, and most of the general public has departed. For the rest of us, in waiting for the changing scene as our planet turns, we reminisce while we lament we have a gorgeous sky sans comet. No Halley, no Huyatake nor Hale-Bopp. Still, we wish. A bright meteor reminds us of those stunning interlopers: “Comet” by Wayne Gratz.

8. Because we're near the onset of summer, dawn breaks early, now just before 4 a.m. Almost imperceptibly, a soft green glow emerges in the northeast. The growing morning light rapidly eclipses the stars: “Esperanza” by Crystal Wind; in a musical surge near the end of the song, the Sun, seemingly glowing in triumph over the darkness, at last breaks above the horizon.

9. As we gather our astronomical equipment and load it into our cars, the Sun begins painting the landscape in a glorious morning brilliance: “Timeless Way,” also by Crystal Wind.

10. At last, it's time to search for our pillows and bed, as we settle to catch up on a blessed night of missed sleep. Memories of our nocturnal cosmic dances elicit persistent smiles as we are “Coming Home” by 3rd Force.

Savor the night! "To the End of the World" with Pat Metheny.