Stargazing
A giant came charging over Medd’s mountain this month. He was colossal, terrifying. In hand he held a raised club, in the other a shield, or possibly a bow. From his belt hung a glittering sword decorated with three shining jewels.
I am referring, of course, to the constellation Orion, which became clearly visible in the early evening for the first time this month. His ancient enemy the scorpion — so goes a Greek myth — has sunk away under the southern horizon. The winter hunter stalks the sky alone.
Orion is among the most recognizable constellations, and nearly every child with the good luck to live in an area of reasonably dark night skies knows the famous belt and upraised arm. Only the Big Dipper, an asterism within the constellation Ursa Major, might claim greater popularity.
Orion also has a long history in traditions of sky-culture from throughout human history and around the globe. Earliest depictions date from over 30,000 years ago, and the giant has variously been called hunter, guardian, shepherd, goddess, rooster, warrior, bison, and many more. What better herald for the start of winter, with all its faces of beauty and danger?
Orion does have a secret, though, and it has to do with that sword hanging from his belt. On a clear night in December, take out a pair of ordinary binoculars and head outside. Find Orion and then look at the second “star” of his sword, just below his belt. Does it seem a little soft, misty, glowing, out of focus? You are looking at the Great Orion Nebula, or M42, a cloud of molecular gas busily churning out new stars and solar systems. With a modest telescope, you might even spot the Trapezium, a cluster of four huge, bright stars that have carved out a bright hollow in the cloud’s heart.
Apart from the rising of Orion and the Geminid meteor shower of December 13-14 (which promises to be spectacular this year owing to a New Moon on December 14), the central astronomical event of December is the Winter Solstice at 5:02 AM on Monday, December 21. That is the moment when the earth’s southern pole is at maximum tilt toward the sun and the sun is at its lowest track across our northern sky. It is the longest night of the year and the beginning of winter.
I’m often struck by the irony of the winter solstice. It’s partly a gloomy event, not least for the months of literal winter gloom that lie ahead. But the solstice is also the rebirth of the sun, the date when the days begin lengthening toward summer. Spring is on the cards right when the gloom of winter begins. What better way to end a year like 2020?
By Dennis Vanderspek
