Cassini’s photos of Saturn, its rings & moons

Get a good look at Saturn, thanks to the Big Picture photo blog from boston.com. These photos are fantastic.

Hey Jupiter… I saw yer moons

I saw four of Jupiter’s moons through a telescope last night. First time ever! I also got a good look at constellations Lyra, Cygnus, and Aquila. I “followed the arc to Arcturus and sped on to Spica” – that’s when you follow the curve of the Big Dipper’s handle until you reach Arcturus in the constellation Bootes, then proceed to Spica, the sheaf of wheat in the constellation Virgo, which is the luckiest star in the sky.

This was on a perfectly clear night at the edge of a lake far from city lights somewhere in Indiana. The previous night I was on a pontoon on the lake with my husband’s family, pointing out constellations along the zodiac and whatever other bright spots I knew well enough to identify. (For instance, I know most but not all of the circumpolar constellations. No excuse not to learn the rest. I did know “there’s a giraffe up there somewhere.” That would be Camelopardis, which is wedged between the dipper and Cassiopeia. Its faint stars don’t seem to figure into astrology much. Though it is an animal larger than goats.)

You do go outside once in a while, don’t you? Especially at night when it’s clear and you can get away from the city’s ambient light? Because those glyphs floating around in your charts represent stuff you can really see.

Jupiter’s outpouring of grace

In the back yard of our house are three fruit trees. There’s a big pear tree that spreads over the western corner, dropping leaves and sometimes fruit on my downstairs neighbors’ car. In the northern corner, the plum tree’s putting out little purple fruits flecked with yellow. I race the squirrels for the best specimens, though sometimes the worms beat us both to the prize. Then there’s this stumpy peach-producing thing. I have no idea if its fruits are edible, but they’re there. And I did nothing special to deserve any of this summery bounty.

That’s Jupiter for you. It’s all about abundance, and grace, and optimism: this outpouring of good things, just because. Any fruit-laden tree, any leafy, spreading vine, any oak tree relentlessly spilling forth acorns, all fall under Jupiter’s jurisdiction. It’s not about Saturnian justice and reaping what you sow. (I certainly didn’t sow these trees. They were here when we bought the place. They just do what comes naturally.) It’s mercy, it’s Jove, it’s Zeus and his endless fertility. No wonder Jupiter is exalted in Cancer: cardinal water, here comes the flood.

Last night I was gazing at big shiny Jupiter, hanging just to the left of the constellation Sagittarius in the early night sky where I live. Yes, right now it’s in its fall, and it’s retrograde: but when retrograde, it’s traveling opposite the Sun, whose full-on light makes the gas giant look grander and Jupiter-ier than ever. For visual impact and sheer I-know-what-you-are stargazing delight, it’s always been my favorite cosmic neighbor.

And from Jupiter, I was able to find the whole Sagittarius constellation. It really does look a little like a teapot. And waaaaay overhead, the summer triangle: Wega, Deneb, and Altair. More good neighbors I like to wave at, this time of year.

(I wonder why Jupiter is in its fall in Capricorn? Just as Jupiter is exalted in the flood of cardinal water Cancer, then it must feel especially restricted by the single-seed imagery of cardinal earth Capricorn. Jupiter hates putting all its eggs in one basket. More eggs, more baskets, more more more!)

Mercury-spotting: the challenge planet!

I’ve tried a few times, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mercury for myself, with or without a telescope. Now Yahoo! News has picked up a column by Space.com astronomer Joe Rao that beautifully describes how Northern Hemisphere observers might be able to spot our swift neighbor if the view is unobstructed and the atmosphere cooperates.

Tomorrow through May 22, with best naked-eye viewing around April 30-May 6, look low in the west-northwest sky at dusk. Rao says that tomorrow, Mercury should become visible about 30 minutes after sunset. He gives excellent viewing instructions in the article I mentioned above.

I wonder where I can get a good look at the west-northwest sky this week?

Jupiter-spotting

It’s just this side of too-early-to-be-awake, but I got out of bed just to get a good look at Jupiter before the Sun comes up. It’s at about 21 Capricorn, just about square the Sun now at about 21 Aries, so I can see it high in the southern sky, a bit east of south, as the dawn approaches.

Jupiter’s not happy in Capricorn, in plain terms. Consult a Ptolemaic table of essential dignities and you’ll see that Jupiter is in its fall in Capricorn. The Greater Benefic typically cannot act as a benefic here. I suppose it’s because Jupiter, a hot, moist planet and naturally associated with generosity and abundance, can’t find the fertile soil it needs for expansion in Capricorn’s craggy, mountainous earth.

There are two small spans of Capricorn where Jupiter has some essential strength. From 0 Capricorn 00 to 9 Capricorn 59, Jupiter is in its face, the least of essential dignities. From 12 Capricorn 00 to 18 Capricorn 59, Jupiter is in its term, the next dignity up from face. Jupiter will revisit its term from the end of June until the beginning of September, during its retrograde period.

Speaking of that retrograde period, did you know that whenever Jupiter is stationing – direct or retrograde – it is trine the Sun? This is a smart shortcut to remember whether you’re a horary or a natal astrologer. If you see Jupiter trine the Sun in a chart, keep in mind that Jupiter is on the verge of changing directions (or has just done so), and that it is extremely slow compared to its usual speed. Obviously this doesn’t apply to transits to your natal chart.

Jupiter’s first station this spring is at 22 Capricorn 22 on May 9th. Jupiter retrogrades back to 12 Capricorn 32 and stations on September 8th. So summer in the Northern Hemisphere will be a great time for Jupiter-spotting.

The Lion’s leaden breastplate

If you live in the northern hemisphere, look up at the sky any clear evening this month to see the approaching dance between one wanderer you know well and one fixed star you may not know as well. The latter is the glowing heart of the Lion. The former is the cold planet of lead.

These spring evenings are the perfect time to observe the grand constellation of Leo, the Lion. Look up in the southern sky around 10pm any night this week to see a great backwards question mark (the lion’s head and mane) punctuated by the fixed star Regulus. Its name is Latin for “Little King,” and it’s also known as the Heart of the Lion from its location in the constellation.

Just to the left of Regulus these days, parking on the Lion’s chest, is the planetary wanderer Saturn, slow, cold, and elderly. A little distance further to the left, a small triangle of stars depicts the Lion’s crouching hindquarters. As spring progresses, you’ll need to step outside a little earlier each evening to see the constellation Leo at its height.

Saturn right now is retrograde in the early degrees of Virgo, about 2 degrees 18 minutes today. Regulus is poised just at the end of Leo, at 29 degrees 56 minutes. If you observe them carefully over the next several nights and weeks, you’ll see Saturn’s position verrrry sllllowly shift to the right, approaching, approaching, but growing slower and slower. The distance it has to travel to reach Regulus is small – just a couple of degrees of arc. The weight of leaden Saturn seems ready to drag down the Lion’s shining heart.

But the conjunction is never achieved. Saturn creeps to a fraction of its usual measured, ancient pace as it approaches its station. Finally, stationary at 1 Virgo 40 the first weekend of May, it comes as close as it will to the Little King at the end of Leo. And since, in this astrology, planets in two adjacent signs cannot be conjunct, its cold lead does not conquer the Heart of the Lion.

What can we expect from Saturn, ever the slowest of the classical seven planets, grinding to a halt in Virgo? I’d say inertia is the order of the day, the sense that you just can’t get projects off the ground. Lodged in Virgo, the sign ruling the intestines, stationary Saturn is a tummy ache that just won’t move. (Are you drinking your water? Getting enough fiber? Taking a walk after supper?)

Mentally, it’s a case of the doldrums, a penchant for melancholy thoughts. If Saturn’s station corresponds to an onset of inertia for you, perhaps spending time with your most regal, spirited friend – high-tempered, magnanimous, and generous – could help shake off those blues.

The Full Worm Moon

Each month’s full moon has a name to some folks, did you know that? I was vaguely aware of the prettier-sounding ones such as Full Strawberry Moon and Full Harvest Moon. But seeing that March 21st this year brings the Full Worm Moon made my nose crinkle a bit in confusion. How does a worm come to be honored with its own moon?

The answer, of course, is obvious when you think of farming. Lowly though it is, the worm is our natural earth-plower and soil-improver. In one end and out the other, soil goes through earthworms and, enriched with nutrients, is much the better for passing through. And the tunnels formed by worms as they live their lives help air and water circulate through the earth. What could be better for preparing land for new plantings after the frigid stillness of winter?

So this is the Aries/Libra full moon: the first full moon of the solar year that began at the spring equinox. The sign marking new life connects to the sign of fall’s harvest, when we hope the land may pay back our attention with a plentiful crop. A promise is made; we sow with the hope of reaping.