A Regal Conjunction

On September 19, 2025, a rare celestial event unfolded in the pre-dawn skies over Maryland: the conjunction of the Moon, Venus, and Regulus. I had high anticipation for this conjunction for several reasons. First, the tight grouping of the three celestial bodies was remarkable. Venus, the waning crescent Moon, and Regulus (Leo the Lion’s lucida) were packed within a 1-degree field of view. This meant that they were close enough to fit under a fingertip held at arm’s length, or easily with my telephoto lens racked out to 300mm.

So often the word “rare” is thrown about with abandon in regard to astronomical events. But this one does merit the appellation. A similarly tight grouping won’t occur again until September 22, 2041, when the trio will fit within a 7.2° circle. My research could not find any evidence of another triple conjunction from Maryland that will fit within a 1.0° field of view for at least the next 50 years.

Preparation

A few days out, the weather forecast looked very favorable for the morning of September 19^th, so I set about planning for it. I jumped on the Heavens-Above website and used their interactive sky chart and twilight times to get a preview. Those tools let me know that the event would be low on my eastern horizon, which was a problem due to the trees and houses that blocked my eastern view from home.

I needed a better venue and thought that somewhere along the nearby Loch Raven Reservoir might offer a clearer eastern horizon. I ruled out any trails as it could be risky navigating an unfamiliar path in the dark while carrying my camera equipment. Exploring virtually with Google maps, I noticed several small “observation decks” along the eastern side of the Dulaney Valley road bridge that crosses the reservoir. By midweek I had a game plan: park my car off on the shoulder near the bridge and walk a quarter mile to the platform.

The day before the conjunction, I weighed doing a reconnaissance of the bridge, anticipating that I would swing by right after work around 3:30 p.m. However, fate had other plans. Around 10 a.m., I received news that I was being laid off as part of budget cuts and had to hand in my laptop by 2 p.m. Given that 2026 was going to be my last year of part-time work as an OCR software developer, the layoff was not a significant impact, although there was the emotional aspect of no longer being employed after over half a century of work. The immediate upside was that it gave me an early departure time to head out to the reservoir. My drive out to the bridge validated my plans to park the car just before the bridge and walk out to the first fishing platform.

The Conjunction

I set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. Thursday evening, but I was up before the alarm went off. I dressed quickly and hustled out the door with my camera. I was at the pull-off area south of the bridge within a few minutes, parking the car and gathering my equipment. As I used my cell phone’s torch to light the path out to the platform, I pushed away the slight anxiety that creeps in, that sense of caution mixed with danger when doing something like this.

As I rounded the corner and stepped onto the bridge I saw my prize: an ocher-colored Moon rising, with Venus hanging just below it, both attenuated by the atmosphere. Regulus was not visible at that point, either hiding behind the trees or extinguished by the horizon haze. I was a bit surprised to see the Moon was in front of me rather than to my right over the water. As I advanced towards the bridge, the tree line slowly loomed taller and taller. By the time I was at the platform, the Moon and Venus were just skirting the treetops on the opposite shore. While not the imagined view of Moon rising over the waters of the reservoir, the setting was certainly beautiful.

The Crescent Moon & Venus

I set up the camera and bracketed a few shots of the slender orange crescent juxtaposed with a cream-colored Venus dangling below it. Time passed quickly, and as the duo climbed out of the haze, I could soon see Regulus hanging below Venus, forming a remarkable straight line. The earthshine was now evident, adding to the sublime nature of the appulse. For the next 45 minutes, I captured images at various focal lengths and exposures. Even at the full 300mm of the telephoto lens, all three members of the conjunction were in the frame due to the tightness of the conjunction. I knew the more challenging aspect in replicating with the camera what my eyes were witnessing would be the brightness contrast of these three. Venus outshone Regulus by about 100 times, while the Moon was just 5–6% illuminated, creating a dramatic visual contrast that our logarithmic eyes can handle well but pixels struggle to faithfully reproduce. Some things are just seemingly made for naked eye observation.

Moon, Venus, Regulus (and earthshine)

I had to contend with the southbound traffic coming from Jarrettsville Pike, timing my shots to miss their oncoming headlights intruding into my frame, even with the lens hood attached. I also noted that at times when some vehicles passed by on the bridge, there was some vibration, which likely ruined some shots. After about an hour and with dawn beginning to lighten the horizon, I packed up the camera and began the trip back home.

Conjunction reflected in the water below

As I pulled up in front of my house around 6:20 a.m., I assessed where the Moon was. It was still hidden behind trees, so I walked around to the backyard, camera and tripod in hand. It was not until I moved to the farthest southwest corner of the yard that the trio of conjunction companions cleared the rooftops. I fired off a couple of shots as the eastern sky gradually grew brighter, concluding my engagement with this magnificent conjunction by about 6:30 a.m.

The conjunction from my backyard

Witnessing this triple conjunction of the Moon, Venus, and Regulus was absolutely an unforgettable experience. The planning, the anticipation, and the sheer beauty of the event made it a night to remember, and the images will serve as a wonderful reminder of that September morning out at Loch Raven as the heavens aligned.

Eclipse Cloudout

A couple of weeks ago, the Moon’s orbit carried it into the Earth’s shadow during the early morning hours of March 14th. This eclipse was ideally positioned for those of us in the United States, so I was excited and hopeful to have a chance to witness it and capture some beautiful shots during totality.

I started monitoring the weather forecast in earnest on Thursday morning. The sources didn’t agree much. Underground Weather and WeatherBug predicted a significant cloud deck, whereas Astropheric and Clear Outside were far more optimistic. It seemed like an offshore system might creep westward and potentially cloud us out. The pattern suggested it might be advantageous to try and outrun the clouds by heading to western Maryland or West Virginia. However, since that wasn’t a sure thing, I opted for the comfort and convenience of watching from my backyard.

I downloaded and set up the Lunar Eclipse Timer and Camera Controller (LETnC) application the day before. I had used the solar eclipse counterpart to this software during last year’s Total Solar Eclipse, so I was hoping to leverage it for this lunar eclipse. I ensured that both my Canon Mark II and Canon t6i had charged batteries. The former would provide nice views of the full Moon through the 80mm Vixen telescope, while the latter could be used for a variety of shots with the 300mm telephoto lens.

Around 9 PM, I brought the equipment out from the garage, aligned the mount, and balanced the Vixen on it. The iPolar was acting a bit quirky, so it took longer than expected—I even rebooted and reinstalled the software to no avail. Fortunately, there was plenty of time before the eclipse would start, and the rough alignment provided by the glitchy iPolar would suffice.

As we approached the point where the Earth’s penumbra began to creep onto the disk, I took a shot of Luna in her pre-eclipsed state. I noticed some very high, thin clouds creating a slight glow around the Moon, but through the telescope, their impact was negligible. Although chilly, the seeing seemed fairly good—around 5/10, with transparency at about 6/10.

Uneclipsed Moon

Slightly before midnight, the Earth’s outer shadow touched the Moon. However, as usual, the effect was too subtle to see. Only when we got within about 15 minutes of the first contact with the darker umbra could one begin to appreciate a darkening on the Moon’s limb. By C1 at 1:09 AM, the clouds were slowly thickening, but not enough to seriously impact the spectacle or my photography.

A few minutes after C1

Over the next hour, I continued to document the encroaching shadow, re-centering the Moon in the Vixen and hopping over to the telephoto setup to reel off a few bracketed shots. Unfortunately, the cloud cover seemed to be matching the depth of the eclipse, gradually but inexorably thickening as the minutes ticked down towards totality. I had to edit the LETnC script to make the exposures a little longer, and it became clear it would be a race to see if the clouds would win out and block totality. A look at the satellite infrared image was not at all promising, with offshore clouds pushing into our area.

About 30 minutes before totality

By a little after 2 AM, it was clear that the weather had won this round. As the Moon was further engulfed in shadow, it was first lost from eyesight, and then even the telescope's light-gathering advantage was overwhelmed in my effort to continue photographing the eclipse. When C2 arrived a little before 2:30 AM, there was nothing to see, and the hope of witnessing the beautiful coppery orb floating in the spring sky slipped away along with the Moon.

I retreated inside to rest a bit and set an alarm for 3 AM, just in case the clouds relented. But when I checked the window, there was still no hint of the Moon in the sky, so I turned in for the night. Interestingly, some other members of HAL went out to Alpha Ridge to view the eclipse, and their skies held clear enough up until totality to capture some nice images. And so it goes in this often-frustrating hobby that depends so heavily on having a clear sky above!

Occultation of a Sapphire

Out of the 12 zodiac constellations, only six stars shine at first magnitude. Of these, just four lie close enough to the ecliptic for the Moon to occasionally pass in front of them during its monthly orbit. Up until now I had been able to catch occultations of Antares and Aldebaran, but not Spica and Regulus. Lunar occultations of this stellar quartet is not routine. First, the Moon's distance from the ecliptic has to match that of the star when the Moon is swinging by it. Then you have to be in the right location on Earth. Due to the Moon's closeness to the Earth, parallax is in play so that an occultation in the US can easily be a near-miss in Canada. Add to this the need to have clear skies and it's easy to see why many amateur observers have not caught occultations of all the candidate bright zodiac stars.

This month in the pre-dawn skies on Wednesday, November 27^th, Spica was slated to undergo an occultation from my location. Some aspects of the event were very favorable. The Moon would be a fat crescent, making it easier to see Spica adjacent to it. The altitude would be at least 20° so that it would be above the tree line. On the downside, the reemergence from behind the Moon's dark limb would happen close to sunrise, making it impossible to see naked-eye but certainly doable in binoculars. 

The weather prediction on the evening of the 26th was very guarded. Depending on the source, predictions were for anywhere from 20% clouds to 70% clouds with a storm system heading our way for the holiday (Thanksgiving). Given the uncertain weather, I opted not to set up my telescope. Instead, I relied on my binoculars and camera with a telephoto lens for a simpler approach.

I got up around 4:30 a.m. and peeked out the window to see a fair amount of clouds, but a few "sucker holes" thrown in just enough to entice me to getting dressed and going outside. A little before five I was outside and could see the Moon rising through the denuded tree across the street from my driveway. Spica was visible as well, and its blue color evident nicely in the binoculars. But the clouds, not so thick as to obscure the Moon yet heavy enough to degrade the view, were passing by frequently. It'd be a matter of luck as to whether I'd catch anything.

Crescent Moon, Spica clearing tree line

In the back yard I positioned myself where the Moon would be above obstacles and worked on the camera's focus at 300mm. I snapped a few shots and examined them to verify that I had a reasonable focus. As the minutes ticked down to the anticipated disappearance at 5:34 a.m., I alternated admiring the view with just my eyes and then with the binoculars, all the while grabbing a few shots to document the approach. Part of what makes an event like this so suited for visual observation is the ability of our eyes to handle a wide range of brightness. I could appreciate the bright star hanging below the even brighter crescent which then gave way to the dark side of the Moon illuminated by earthshine. It is very hard to recreate that visual experience in a photo.

Finally with one minute to go I switched the camera to record video and inspected the view in my 7x50 binoculars. The task of witnessing the coup de grâce was challenging. My hands were not steady enough to get anything but a fleeting, occasional sighting of the star adjacent to the bright lunar limb. Within a few moments it was gone from view, and I halted the recording and went inside to warm up.

With about 70 minutes to go until reemergence of Spica I had to decide how to document that event. With the clouds continuing to hang around I didn't feel it was worth the effort to set up a telescope to capture it. The camera with its lens would hopefully be able to pick out Virgo's lucida when it popped into view. 

I took my position a little before quarter to seven o'clock and focused the camera on the Moon. As fate would have it there were actually very few clouds now, making me wish I had set up the Vixen to observe the reemergence. With about a minute to go I turned the video on and began targeting the Moon in my binoculars, trying to steady them by resting my elbow on the fence. Suddenly there it was, a shining dot backlit by a strong twilight sky. The show was complete and I brought the camera inside.

Spica's Reemergence

Reviewing the captures revealed the shots leading up to the disappearance went well for the most part, but the last few seconds on video are quite hard to discern the moment the star winks out given the brightness of the lunar limb. The reemergence video is better in documenting how Spica suddenly appears in the pale blue sky. Undoubtably there's much opportunity to massage the digital data on upcoming cloudy evenings into something that more closely represents what was seen by the human eye.

While conditions were not perfect, they were good enough that I’ve now witnessed three out of the four first-magnitude stars in the zodiac disappear behind the Moon ‐ only Regulus remains! This occultation, with Spica glowing like a sapphire alongside the Moon’s western limb, is now one of the highlights of my astronomical year and a reminder of how the cosmos never ceases to delight me.

Frost Moon Eclipse

For the second November in a row, the Moon was scheduled to take a plunge into the Earth's shadow (only this November it'd be a total eclipse rather than a very near total eclipse). With the forecast for the early morning of November 8th being a bit questionable (and not taking the workday off), my plan was to set an early 5am alarm to check the western sky for clouds. The weather gods ended up being kind as I could see the eclipsed Moon hanging low in the sky with minimal clouds. I threw on street clothes, grabbed the camera waiting on the tripod in the kitchen, and headed out to locate a spot along the street with an unobstructed view of the event.

It was chilly but not frigid (50°) with some scattered clouds amid a pretty transparent sky overall (7/10). There was a sporadic breeze out of the north. I took some time to just visually enjoy the sight of the deep orange lunar disk hanging about 10° above the western horizon between a gap in the trees. It seemed to be a little on the dark side as lunar eclipses go, probably a Danjon 2 by my estimate. I thought about how these events are beautiful occurrences to us but that centuries ago they would likely strike fear and dread to the average person. Iconic Taurus and Orion looked on nearby along with brilliant Mars, but the spot occupied by Luna was devoid of visible stars given my Bortle 8 suburban skyglow. 

 

 

I racked the telephoto out to 300mm and worked on getting a focus. I then started firing off a set of shots, altering the exposure time to hopefully get one close to approximating the visual appearance. I then dropped the focal length down for some wide-angle shots before calling it a successful event as the Moon slid further to its approaching western horizon rendezvous.

Downloading the shots to the computer showed that, yet again, I had managed to just miss the desired razor-sharp focus. To me this is the Achilles Heel of DSLR cameras – they excel at allowing multiple photos without worry of film expense and even a digital darkroom, but gone are the days where you could reliably slide the focus ring all the way over to infinity and know that you were indeed focused at infinity. Some of it might have been that northerly wind buffeting the tripod a little, but probably 90% of the issue was my not being attentive enough to the focus.

 

I wonder how many lunar eclipses I’ve now taken in over the years. It would be hard for me to go back and tally them as earlier on I certainly didn’t keep records, at least nothing that survived till now. Whether it’s 10 or 20 I can certainly say that they are one of the most pleasant spectacles that Mother Nature provides.

 

Partial Beauty

Normally a partial eclipse, be it Lunar or Solar, is an interesting phenomenon that I'll observe and maybe snap a few photos - if it's convenient. Having seen my share over the years it's not something I am going to plan a PTO day for. It's pretty much a "yep, there's the hunk taken out of the Moon/Sun, right as it should be" event.

The partial Lunar eclipse last week was a bit of a different animal. First, it was darn near total at 99% - a circumstance that had not occurred in quite some time (the media was all over it heralding it as the longest partial eclipse in 500 years). Secondly, unlike a Solar eclipse where that 1% makes a huge difference in what you see, a Lunar eclipse so close to totality would likely be a fine sight. Prior Lunar eclipses have always begun to turn the Moon orangish before becoming totally immersed in the Earth's shadow, so certainly that should occur with this one.

Thursday evening started off overcast but with promises from the weather prognosticators that skies would clear after midnight. With calling out to work the next morning not an option I planned to do some simple naked eye viewing and perhaps try to grab a few shots with the camera. After the HAL meeting I got the Canon onto the tripod and set the alarm for about ten minutes prior to shadow maximum.

All too soon the phone began to chime and I arose to peek out the western bedroom window to see what we had. There it was, a dark red orb with bright edge at about 8 o'clock.

Faux "Diamond Ring"

What immediately leapt to mind was how we sort of had a Lunar eclipse version of the "Diamond Ring", the tiny part of lunar limb still bathed in sunlight acting like the emerging Sun at 3rd contact. HAL member Richard Orr did an excellent job of capturing the effect in his photo seen here. It was a beautiful and slightly eerie sight, resonating on an emotional level with ancient cultures who would be concerned about what was happening to the Moon.

Hyades, Pleiades, and Eclipsed Moon

While it was cold out it was no where near as bitter as the last Lunar eclipse (January 2019) under a "polar vortex". As my eyes adapted to the night I took a moment to appreciate the beautiful scene before me - a ruddy Moon beneath the Pleiades and adjacent to Hyades (the "V" asterism of Taurus). Framing the Moon on the camera's display at the lens' maximum focal length of 300mm I worked to get a focus. While there are a lot of pluses when using a digital camera rather than film, I hate the Buzz Lightyear nature of focusing where you can go to infinity and (just a tad) beyond. In the good old days you twisted the focus collar all the way to infinity and you were confident you had Moon and stars in sharp focus. And as fate would have it, my high power shots proved to be a tad soft once I saw them displayed on my laptop later that morning.

I went through a variety of lower focal lengths and exposures to record the surreal beauty of the coppery Moon gracing Taurus. After about half an hour I went back inside to warm up and nap a little before starting the day. My preparation and the eclipse itself might have been partial, but the enjoyment and beauty of it was total.

Pleiades and Partially Eclipsed Moon

A Harvest Moon Eclipse

With this month's lunar eclipse favoring the east coast of the United States - the Moon well above the horizon at mid-totality before midnight on a Sunday evening - I was hoping for some clear skies so that I could put the 80mm Vixen through its paces. However, the weatherman had other ideas. I kept checking every 15 minutes or so once the eclipse had started shortly after 9 p.m. but conditions were overcast.

Finally a little before 11 p.m. I saw one or two postings on Facebook from folks who were saying they could see something. I stuck my head out the window and sure enough the clouds had broken up enough to reveal a coppery Moon hanging high in the eastern sky. While not practical to set up the Vixen I grabbed the camera, telephoto lens, and tripod and headed for the back yard.

Lunar Eclipse in Pisces with High Thin Clouds

The view was fantastic - a fairly dark eclipse I would say, with a color range from darkish red-brown to the copper colored edge nearest the limb of Earth's shadow. I really felt at home with the DSLR this time in manual mode, firing off a range of photos and adjusting them based upon the near instant feedback displayed on the LCD. The clouds continued to try to take back possession of the evening but not before I was able to secure a few memorable shots.

The one thing that I have to say - I am so tired of all this "Super Moon!!" junk in the papers and social media. And the fact that we had a "super" Moon undergoing eclipse - well one would think that it was as rare as a Venus transit. It was a great eclipse to be sure, but the slight difference in the Moon's size as it was near perigee was more of an academic footnote than of any real visual consequence.

A Vague Mars, Awesome Tycho

Well this week was the 2014 Mars opposition, like the Olympics a bi-annual event in the life of amateur astronomers. I set up the scope under so-so skies the actual night of opposition (Apr 8th) but struggled to place Mars in the scope's field of view (spotting scope really needed to be reset, the tube was fully racked to the side I needed to move towards). So, with a first quarter Moon beginning its westward slide to the horizon I opted to grab a few frames from it craggy landscape.

The northern hemisphere sported Plato, always a favorite, but a little past prime as the sun had climbed high enough across its plains to remove most of the contrast shadows provide. The images were best without a Barlow, showing a wider section the the Moon's landscape. A little east of Plato the "Alpine Valley" was an interesting feature, an 80 mile long cleft amid the lunar version of the Alpine mountains. Another cool landmark was Mons Piton, a solitary mile-high mountain projecting from Mare Imbrium (Sea of Showers) a bit farther south and east of the Vallis Alpes.

Plato on the norther shores of Mare Imbrium

The southern hemisphere this evening was the normal chaotic mix of craters upon craters. Among the scared landscape two caught my attention. One was huge Clavius, always demanding attention because of its impressive size, nearly the distance from Frederick MD to the eastern shore of Maryland. Being an ancient crater its floor is beat up with subsequent smaller impact craters, a couple of which were easily seen. In contrast the other standout is one of the newer significant lunar features - crater Tycho was in sharp contrast and very eye-catching. Probably no other feature has such a remarkable change in appearance from its local dawn to high noon. Here as the sun just come above the horizon the steep walls and its nearly mile high central peak are evident. Less than a week from now it will be the ray system that draws attention from the observer, especially during the eclipse set to happen early next Tuesday morning.

Tycho at top center, large Clavius to the left

The following night I took some time to correct the finder scope and made another attempt at Mars. Being an aphelic apparition there is never a lot that one can hope to see with a modest 6" reflector. But throughout my astrophotography career Mars had always been one target that I could never capture through the scope. Always not at opposition, or too small when at opposition - it rarely presents itself favorably and never as consistently as Jupiter, Saturn, and Luna. But this evening I did manage to get it on screen, a clear disk with even hints of a polar cap. So I ran a few AVI to see what I could get, a couple with blue and green filters. Sadly, the processing revealed a very uninspiring result. Part of it is that clearly the "boring" side of Mars was showing, mainly plains without any significant albedo features. But even so the polar region was very mushy, more of a suggestion of its presence than a confirmation. So, the scope will need to be checked again, make sure I have the best mirror alignment possible, and then hope for another clear night with maybe a more fascinating central meridian available in the next couple of weeks. But - even as inferior as it is - I can at least say I now have Mars on film.

Mars with a small polar cap at about 5 o'clock

Luna C&C

It would not take much statistical analysis of my observing log to determine that I'm a fair weathered observer. The spring and fall - no bugs, slight chill in the air - are so ideal for an evening under the stars - or in tonight's case the waxing gibbous Moon.

I set the scope up and hooked up the video camera for some lunar photography. A couple days past 1st quarter brings some impressive sights to the terminator. Two of my favorites are the relatively young crater Copernicus and the large older crater Clavius. I began with the 2.5x barlow in place and focused the image that I saw on the screen, doing several runs at a high frame rate of 1/60th per second. Then I ended with a few runs without the Barlow.

Copernicus

When I went inside and began the processing I was disappointed to find that the higher power images were a bit mushy - either I misjudged the focus and was just outside of it or the seeing was not that steady (but that is unlikely that I could not get 100 or so good images out of some 3,000 frames that each run encompassed). Fortunately the videos without the Barlow appeared much crisper and are presented here.

Clavius (large crater at lower mid-right of image)

Fact Sheet

Sep 14 2013 at 21:30 EDT
Towson, MD USA
6" f/8 Newtonian
DFK 21AU04S Camera