Chasing Comet Lemmon

Last October, excitement was building in the astronomy community about Comet Lemmon (C/2025 A3), which was predicted to reach around 3rd magnitude – bright enough to be seen with the naked eye from a dark site. As the comet’s closest approach to Earth drew near, I began planning a photography mission to capture this icy visitor. With the closest approach set for October 21, I kept a close eye on the weather for Monday the 20th. The forecast was uncertain, with a storm system expected to clear just in time for the evening. I decided to focus on photography, using my trusty 7x50 Celestron binoculars for visual observation. After dusting off the Star Adventurer Tracker – dormant since my trip to the 2023 Annular Eclipse in New Mexico – I began scouting locations within a few hours’ drive.

A light pollution map led me to the Zumbrun Overlook in Green Ridge State Forest, between Hagerstown and Cumberland. Online photos showed a promising platform with a clear western horizon. I opted for an overnight trip, staying in Cumberland to avoid a late-night drive home. I reached out to my astro-photography friend Steve, but he was busy with another shoot. Fortunately, Deb was interested in joining, and we looked forward to enjoying the fall foliage on our drive. After morning appointments, we headed west on I-70, stopping for lunch in Hagerstown before arriving at our hotel in Cumberland.

Zumbrun Overlook

After checking in, I drove out to the Zumbrun Overlook near Flintstone to get familiar with the site. The spot looked ideal, though a tree at the front of the platform meant I’d need to choose my position carefully depending on the comet’s location. My goal was to set up by 6:15 p.m., but dinner at Puccini’s ran late, and I arrived at the overlook around 6:30 p.m. At the overlook, two amateur astronomers from NOVAC had already claimed the front row, so I set up behind them. The sky was very clear, with moderate winds and a limiting magnitude of about 5.5. As twilight deepened, Comet Lemmon became visible in Boötes, just above and to the right of Arcturus. The clouds cleared just in time, and although I had to shoot over the NOVAC observers, the Star Adventurer tracker performed well. Deb joined me at the overlook to enjoy the overhead Milky Way, which was on full display.

Around 7:45 p.m. I spent some time observing Comet Lemmon through 7x50 binoculars. The comet showed a bright coma with a tail extending roughly 1.5° northeast. No greenish color was detected; the coma appeared white. I estimated its brightness at about 4th magnitude – just visible with averted vision. The scene was enhanced by the presence of orange r Boo and blue s Boo in the field. One of the NOVAC astronomers also graciously shared a view of the comet through her 8” SCT (but it seemed to lack a sharp focus).

Comet Lemmon Amid Boötes

Arriving back home the next day I was disappointed to discover my images were slightly out of focus. I salvaged them somewhat using BlurXTerminator in PixInsight on each individual shot before stacking them in Sequator. Despite some streaky clouds photobombing Lemmon, the final image captured was reasonable and serves as a wonderful memento from that night. While not spectacular, Comet Lemmon 2025/A3 was a wonderful visitor from the deep freeze of our outer solar system.

Perseids 2023

It's been too long since I've packed up the scope and headed out to a dark sky venue. With 2023 coming together as a very favorable Perseid Meteor Shower event (little moonlight, shower maximum predicted for early morning Eastern time, and a weekend to boot) I head out to an AirBnB in Monterey, VA under Bortle 2 skies.

The forecast for Saturday evening has been dismal, but as I step outside at 9:30pm it's actually clear. I place the HEM27 mount outside and wait to see if conditions will hold. By 10pm it is beautiful, so I attach the 80mm Vixen and power up the iPolar in hopes of doing some pre-midnight non-meteor photography. But as I'm getting my polar alignment down I become increasingly aware of flashes over the northwestern horizon - what some might call "heat lightning". Pulling up the radar shows a line of slow-moving storms to the north. It's hard to determine if they might skirt my spot and only deliver a sprinkle, allowing me to leave the setup covered and ready to go after the storm, or instead bring a downpour. Not wanting to risk it I reluctantly put everything back in the house by 11pm. I set the alarm for 3am in hopes that there still may be a chance of glimpsing the Perseids.

I turn over and check the clock. It's 2:30am (amazing how often that seems to happen with one's internal alarm clock) so I lumber to the front door and step outside. I am greeted by amazingly clear, dark skies. The northeastern horizon in the distance lights up periodically as the thunderheads slowly continue their push eastward. My goal of coming away with a keeper shot of a Perseid blazing through the late summer night sky might yet be fulfilled! I quickly align the camera tracker on Polaris and get the camera focused. I decide to frame a region of Andromeda and Pegasus anchored with brilliant Jupiter in the corner and kick off the program for a series of 1-minute exposures. Come on Perseids, do your thing!

I keep an ongoing tally in my head as they sporadically streak across the heavens here and there, but they always skirt the trap I have so carefully laid. About 15 minutes in I begin to notice that I am losing stars near the zenith. Clouds are creeping in from the south, slowing reclaiming the sky, and in a few minutes even Jove is a feeble remnant of his original beacon. As if to tease me, the areas of the northern sky remain transparent with vain Queen Cassiopeia seemingly taunting me for not having chosen her at the outset of my quest.

I stubbornly persist a few minutes, trying to give these pokey clouds a chance to move on rather than repointing the camera. But finally my patience is exhausted and I give in. I pause the program and swing the camera around to the southwest where the sea-goat has begun his plunge below the horizon. It always delights me how in a Bortle 3 venue I can readily see the outline of so many constellations that, from Towson, are represented by only a handful of stars bright enough to punch through the light pollution. The intervalometer program engages again and the click of the shutter tells me I'm back in business. 

Another quarter hour passes and I notice a new enemy has attacked - my laptop screen is now glistening with dew that has formed on it. I could kick myself for not bringing along a few hand warmers that could be laid alongside the camera lens as a defense. I pause the program again to clear the dew and look for a bright object to check my focus. Ahh, the Moon has joined the party as she crests the mountain range to my east. While so often an unwelcome guest to a star party, this morning her thin crescent with sublime Earthshine is a fine target to help me ensure my focus is spot on. 

Assessing the heavens I opt to shift the frame to the Queen and her husband in hopes that a meteor will course through their celestial thrones. My meteor count continues to tick up with some that appear enticingly close to the region I've framed. Perhaps I have bagged a cool Perseid meteor shot?! 

All too soon the final enemy of my endeavor - dawn - is closing in as she begins to reveal the silhouette of the eastern mountains with her glow. Overhead is still reasonably dark so I continue to let the camera run, hoping for that one brilliant streak of light to flash through the frame. Finally I yield and close up shop, bringing the damp tools inside to be cleaned up and dried off. In the couple of hours I've seen about 60 Perseids and 4 strays. One was a beautiful fireball that dropped from Cassiopeia into Lyra sporting a green tint and momentary train. Visually, it has been a nice year for the Perseids and far more than I expected 24-hours earlier given the gloomy forecast.

I'm tired, but it's like Christmas morning and I am too impatient to wait to see what's on that SD card. Swipe right, swipe right, swipe right - sigh, yet another year where the Perseids have proven more recluse than Howard Hughes when it comes to having their photo taken. I have spent a couple hours fishing in the celestial sucker holes and come away empty despite what looked like promising nibbles. And yet like fishing, it was not really so much whether I landed that fireball on film, it was the rejuvenation of spirit found under a stary sky that sent shooting stars in all directions. And in that, the night and this trip have been a complete success.