The northwest quadrant of Earth’s Moon, viewed during morning daylight reveals many wonderful details with an appearance that differs from nighttime views in more than just color. A few points of interest: The crater with impressive ejecta rays at lower left is Kepler; to its right is large, distinctive Crater Copernicus with its central peaks. Just above Copernicus are the peaks of Montes Carpatus. The bright spot at upper left is Crater Aristarchus with Herodotus, just to its left. Finally, at the upper right corner, is the distinctive C-shape of Sinus Iridium.
This morning, before stowing equipment for the duration of upcoming days of cloudy weather, we aimed the 11-inch scope at Earth’s waning gibbous Moon. Images were captured at about 7:50 AM EDT, after the sky had turned to blue, lending its color to Moon as viewed from Earth.
Celestron 11-inch telescope is shown aimed at Moon — a tiny white dot — in the clear, blue morning sky.
The big Celestron SCT remains in need of adjustment or, possibly, overhaul but does deliver some pleasing results! We’ve been struggling but have not yet achieved best acceptable collimation, so the scope hasn’t spent much time on the permanent pier in the observatory.
The sort of flaw that one will see from telescopes that are out of collimation — alignment of the light path within the telescope — is stars that look a bit like comets, and focus difficulties. After several efforts we are not where we need to be with the C11 to use it as our primary observatory instrument.
Unfortunately, due to lack of space, we can have only one telescope at a time on a permanent mount beneath the dome. We are considering next steps which include acquisition of a new primary telescope, upgrading of the mount, and means of mounting two instruments at a time on the pier.
As mentioned, cloudy, rainy weather is expected to be the rule for the week ahead so the telescope is parked, and accessories stowed. We’ll be working a bit on our meteor camera and thinking about where to go from here.
Our favorite image from the morning’s “Daytime Moon” efforts shows Moon’s heavily-bombarded southwest quadrant: craters, within craters, within craters. As with the other blue sky image shown here, this one is darker and more vivid than its actual appearance; we couldn’t resist giving the picture a bit more “snap” to bring out detail.
This image of the northwest quadrant of Earth’s Moon shows the image as a photographic negative — amber in color, not blue as in a previous post. Ejecta rays are especially visible around Crater Kepler, near the center of this picture. We enjoy images like this because they feel like a throwback to the early days of astrophotography, and because they tend to reveal delicate details — I mean, just look at the ejecta rays around the craters, especially Kepler just below center of this picture.
The Celestron C-11 telescope immediately after installation on the observatory mount, pointing straight up during balancing efforts.
Last night we finally had an opportunity to check out the C-11 in the observatory. The 24-year-old scope had languished in storage for maybe a year or more after daytime collimation efforts without real world tests.
The black tube of the telescope points up, through the red-illuminated dome interior, towards a mostly-cloudy sky. Our First Quarter Moon shines brightly through the clouds. A bright speck of light is visible above and to the left of Moon; it’s planet Jupiter and clouds closed in before we could take a look through the telescope!
The sky was mostly clear until, of course, we opened the dome. Viewing Moon through “sucker holes” between clouds, things looked great. We attached the DSLR and shot some tests; things looked okay, if a bit dark through the viewfinder, though not outstanding. Clouds closed in solidly before we could reinstall an eyepiece and take a really critical look. We closed up. Checking the images on the computer we discovered all of them out of focus.
There is the possibility the camera did not interface well on the telescope. Perhaps the atmosphere in those sucker holes was shaky. We’ll check again and collimate on the next clear night.
November 3, 2025 — The air was still and the moon so bright and clear tonight, we had to open up the observatory long enough to take a peek and a pic! Moon was 92% illuminated in its waxing gibbous phase, lighting the landscape around us, no flashlight required. Technical: Askar 103 APO telescope, TeleVue Powermate 2X Barlow, Canon EOS 5D Mk. 4 DSLR, single exposure.
An International Observe the Moon Night promotional graphic. Credit: NASA
Note: The observatory construction is essentially complete with only a few “touch up” items and further outfitting remaining. We’ll eventually get around to writing and illustrating the story of the project. First, though, the 2025 International Observe the Moon Night….
October 4 marked International Observe the Moon Night (IOMN), an event billed as an opportunity to “unite people across the globe in a celebration of lunar observation, science, and exploration.” Coordinated and promoted by NASA, IOMN boasted 1,045 registered events worldwide. That count does not include informal events and individuals who, on their own, observed Earth’s Moon, encouraged by the promotion. Unfortunately, due to a U.S. government shutdown, NASA staff are unable to update the IOMN website and we may never know how it went this year.
While we did not host an outreach event, we did post fresh, new telescopic images depicting lunar details, along with descriptions of those events as our participation. This year, we concentrated our efforts on the Threads social media platform. What follows is what we posted.
Here’s a nice full-disk view of Earth’s Moon, one we made a few months ago with a phase very close to what we see tonight. The phase is called the “waxing gibbous” and is seen between the First Quarter and Full Moon. Moon will reach its full phase the night of October 6, this year.Mare Humorum, aka Sea of Moisture, is the dark circle at the center of this image. It was formed in an impact by an asteroid or comet, the crater filled with basalt. The “sea” is about 264 miles across and is seen here near the terminator — the dividing line between night and day — not long after local lunar sunrise. Crater Gassendi is the circular ring that intersects with Humorum. The crater is about 69 miles in diameter; a smaller crater at its northern edge is called Gassed A.
Followup Edit: Spellcheck was convinced we meant to type “Gassed” when what we really wanted was Gassendi A. Maybe it was the chili we had for dinner. Here’s crater Tycho, prominent even in the heavily-bombarded southern lunar highlands. Estimated to be 108 million years old, Tycho is about 53 miles in diameter but easily spotted using binoculars or a small telescope. The crater’s vast field of ejecta rays — the spray of material “splashed” out when an object hit Moon — is bright and forms lines that lead back to their origin. The feature was named after Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe.Also near the terminator, in Moon’s northwest, is this beautiful pair of craters: Kepler (left) and Copernicus. Like Tycho, Copernicus is marked by the prominent lines of ejecta radiating from the impact site, a crater about 58 miles in diameter. Crater Kepler, about 20 miles wide, lies to the west of Copernicus with its western rim shining brightly in the light of the lunar sunrise. For our final image of the night, we’re posting our image of a complex area of Moon at the northern end of the terminator. In the upper right we see crater Anaxagoras and surroundings glowing brightly, contrasted against the stark blackness of space. The smooth band spanning the image is Mare Frigoris. “C” shaped arch marks Sinus Iridum, opening to Mare Imbrium. Crater Plato is the circle with a smooth, dark floor in the lower right. Notice the chain of smaller, satellite craters next to Plato.
Crater Plato is about 63 miles in diameter and about 3.84 billion years old. Once again, see how the western rims of the craters along the terminator shine in the low-angle light from the rising Sun.
We hope you have enjoyed what you have seen and will see online tonight, or were fortunate to attend an International Observe the Moon Night event in person. Outdoors, at home, online, or wherever you may be, we’re glad to have had you with us. We hope IOMN has united people across the globe in a celebration of lunar observation, science, and exploration, under one sky, appreciating one Moon. Goodnight, and keep looking up!
The total lunar eclipse of March 13 – 14, 2025 did not disappoint! We resolved to capture images from the late partial eclipse to maximum eclipse, mostly to be able to fit in a little sleep! Catching it all, which we could from our North America location, would have required, essentially, an all-night session. Just a bit too much!
Early partial eclipse. The brighter shadow within the penumbra lights the top portion of this image. Note a bit of reddish tone within the dark umbra. 2:08 AM EDT
I sat on a pad over the paved surface where in the cold, where the observatory is to eventually stand. The old telescope mount ticking away as it tracked the moon across the sky. Occasionally geese and ducks on the nearby pond called out against some unseen disturbance. The stars of Great Orion were sinking behind nearby trees.
Moon is deep within the umbra and last penumbra light about to be left behind. 2:19 AM EDT
In the otherwise quiet chill, I watched the lunar transition, from a bright sliver left over from the night’s Full Moon, to glowing copper orb. With a cable release I manually triggered the camera’s shutter: click — pause — click, to record the event.
Maximum eclipse. Moon is fully within the umbra but because it is not traveling through the center of Earth’s deepest shadow, scattered light from the penumbra brightens the upper limb. 2:58 AM EDT
Shortly after maximum eclipse (shown above), at 2:58 AM EDT, I shut down the telescope and, casting a wistful eye at the still-darkened Moon, went indoors. I fed the waiting cat, changed back to pajamas, and returned to bed. In fitful sleep, somehow still cold, happy to have sacrificed rest for the experienced phenomenon.
Tech: Askar 103 ED telescope, Canon EOS 5D Mk 4 camera, Meade Goto Mount, Photoshop. ISO 400, variable exposure times.
The total lunar eclipse of November 8, 2022, as viewed from Medina County. Photo by James Guilford.
In the wee hours of Friday, March 14, the Full Moon will pass through Earth’s shadow in space resulting in the coppery-red colors of a total lunar eclipse. While skies are expected to be clear for the event and temperatures tolerable, the show won’t be in “prime time” — maximum eclipse and color will be on display at about 2:58 AM (EDT) Friday. This will be the only total lunar eclipse of 2025.
While the timing of this year’s eclipse may be brutal, it also means the entirety of the process will be visible. By 12:55 AM (an hour after midnight, to be clear) Moon will have a strangely soft, faded appearance, then lit by the diffuse light of Earth’s outer shadow or penumbra.
The partial eclipse begins at 1:09 AM and by 1:47 AM, half of the lunar disk will be dark, hidden in Earth’s deep inner shadow called the umbra. Darkness will progress across Moon and as the last light fades from the lunar surface, color will begin to appear with the onset of totality.
A total lunar eclipse occurs when Moon passes through the central portion of Earth’s shadow, known as the umbra, where all direct light from Sun is blocked and Moon is illuminated only by scattered light passing through Earth’s atmosphere.
At 2:26 AM, with Moon totally inside the umbra, the spooky beauty will be on full display. Earth’s inner shadow is full of colored light — sunlight scattered through the planet’s atmosphere bearing the scattered colors of the globe’s sunrises and sunsets — the source of a total lunar eclipse’s hues.
Maximum eclipse is reached at 2:58 – 2:59 AM and Moon will be as dark and colorful as it can be during the process. The eclipse sequence begins to reverse after the maximum as Moon continues its passage through Earth’s shadow. Observers will note the darker and lighter portions of Moon’s face subtly rotating as the event unfolds because Moon is not passing directly through the center of the umbra — the upper portion of the disk will be near the edge of the shadow area, the lower portion closest to the center and darkest region.
The timing and appearance of the March 14, 2025 total lunar eclipse is illustrated here. Note the penumbra and umbra shadow areas and the rotating shadow distribution on the lunar surface. Movement is right to left. Illustration Credit: NASA Scientific Visualization Studio
By 6:00 AM Moon will have returned to its Full illumination as if nothing had happened. Those who potentially lost sleep watching, however, will perhaps yawn but be will gratified to have seen one of the most impressive and beautiful astronomical events available to us.
Only a few minutes from occultation, Mars is seen just off the lower edge of the lunar limb in this full-disk image recorded at 9:09 PM EST. The event only occurs with planet Mars about once every 14 years. Photo by James Guilford.
Clouds held off — pretty much — for us to observe the Moon occult* Mars, the reddish dot in the photo above. About once every 14 years or so, everything lines up just right and planet Mars is hidden by Earth’s Moon. Though Mars is about twice as big in diameter as our Moon, it was nearly 60 million miles farther away from Earth during the encounter — to the unaided eye, Mars looked like a tiny bright red star next to the Full Moon.
As predicted by mathematics, Mars and Moon grew nearer and nearer each other until, at 9:12 PM Eastern Standard Time (EST), the Red Planet disappeared behind our brilliant orb.
Mars, the small reddish dot in this image, nearing occultation by Earth’s Moon, as seen at 9:07 PM EST, January 13, 2025. Photo by James Guilford.A red arrow indicates a ghostly mound that was Mars as it disappears behind Earth’s Moon at 9:12 PM EST, January 13, 2025. The dark oval to the right of Mars’s vanishing point is the lunar basin Grimaldi. Photo by James Guilford.
Passing clouds threatened to obscure the event but thanks to gaps between those clouds, there was enough clearing for observation. Shortly after Mars vanished, so did those inter-cloud gaps. With Moon now cloud-covered, we did not return to the 13℉ night to watch for Mars to emerge.
Technical: Canon 6D Mk. 2 Camera, Canon 400mm EF 1:5.6 L Lens, Canon 2X telextender, ISO 400, f/11, 1/250 second, photographic tripod.
*Occult: To cut off from view by interposing something. Commonly used as a noun to indicate something supernatural that is hidden from ordinary access.
Waxing Gibbous Moon, January 10, 2025, at 7:18 PM EST. Note the delicate “C” shape on the upper left-hand edge of the lunar image — rising sun lighting the mountain tops that line Sinus Iridium while lower terrain remains in darkness. Crater Copernicus stands out at center-left, and Crater Tycho stands proudly in the heavily-bombarded lower area of the image. Note the extensive spread of ejecta rays that radiate across Moon’s surface from the relatively recent formation of Tycho. Photo by James Guilford.
It was a clear night so, of course, I had to go outside and take a look. Cold too, at 13℉, so I didn’t stay long! Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn were easy to find, all three shining bright. I was out for a “Moon shot”, though, got a pretty good one. This was made using our Sun shot setup, minus solar filter, of course! Moon was beginning its occultation of the Pleiades which didn’t image well.
The day was clear, as well, and Moon was clear and bright even against the blue daytime sky. So, here is our neighboring world rising through the trees. This is presented second, instead of at the top, because we prefer the nighttime image.
Waxing Gibbous Moon. January 9, 2025, at 4:08 PM EST. Photo by James Guilford.
Moon and Saturn had a close encounter tonight, August 20, 2024. Okay, the two orbs were about 809 million miles apart but they were close in the sky. I shot this image as early as I could, shooting through a narrow gap in the trees, with a telephoto lens and not a big ole telescope (which I’d have preferred). Still, there they were, together in our night sky, and here they are, a glowing pockmarked moon, and a distant and giant ringed world in one picture. Where is Saturn? It’s that tiny amber dot — a few pixels in size — above the lunar disk. Saturn’s ring plane is seen nearly on-edge now making the planet visually even smaller. — Photo by James Guilford
I’ve been shooting Sun images so frequently lately that I’ve neglected the night. While a recent aurora was obscured by clouds (and my sleep schedule) here, and no Perseid meteors spotted (clouds and sleep), Moon put in a nice appearance. Our neighbor in space was very low in our southern sky the night of August 14, which was good and bad. It was good because it can be hard to observe objects high overhead. It was bad because lower to the horizon means more air — and turbulence — between the observer and astronomical objects than if they were overhead. A tripod-mounted telephoto lens and DSLR were used for the capture and a bit of post-processing sharpened things up pretty well.
One of the things I enjoy most when observing Moon is looking along the terminator — the divide between dark and lit areas — at features partly illuminated by, in this case, the rising Sun. Especially noticeable is the arc of light near the upper end of the terminator — the sunlit tops of the Jura Mountains, defining the Bay of Rainbows, off of the grand Sea of Showers or Mare Imbrium.
Stella-Luna Observatory 