A Name Among the Minor Planets

Astronomy has a way of giving us moments that stop us in our tracks — a perfect opposition, a night under Bortle‑2 skies, a comet that arrives unannounced. This summer brought one of those moments for me, though of a very different kind: at the behest of my friend Rik Hill, the International Astronomical Union officially named minor planet (45639) Tomney in my honor.

It’s difficult to write about something like this without feeling self‑conscious. The night sky has always been the real reward – from that 60mm Monolux that first showed me the Moon’s craters, to the RV‑6 that carried me through my early planetary adventures, to the more recent years of imaging the planets with modern tools. My journey has never been about recognition; it has been about curiosity, community, and the quiet satisfaction of contributing something useful to a hobby that has given me so much.

Still, when I learned of the naming, I felt a deep and genuine gratitude. The citation in a way validates my work modernizing ALPO’s digital presence and preserving tens of thousands of observations – efforts that began in earnest over six years ago during the pandemic years, when the silver lining of remote work gave me the ability to take the reins of the ALPO gallery to transform it into a repository rather than a scrapbook of interesting photos. And given my nature that then grew into a much needed full redesign of the ALPO website which today has advanced search functionality of more than 45,000 observations. Like pulling a thread this has subsequently led to championing an ALPO SPLICE training initiative to help our members increase the quality of their images and thereby the value of the repository. All represent labors of love, shaped by decades of learning, tinkering, and a passion born in a young grade-school boy all the way back in the 60's under those early Towson’s skies.

The naming of a minor planet is not a finish line. It’s a reminder – that amateur astronomy thrives when people choose to show up, to share, to teach, to preserve, and to build. I’ve been fortunate to do those things alongside generous friends, dedicated observers, and welcoming organizations like HAL and ALPO. If my name now circles the Sun, it does so as a symbol of that shared effort.

As for me, I’ll hopefully keep doing what I’ve always done: chasing the planets from the driveway, coaxing deep sky images from the Vixen, helping new observers find their footing, and working to ensure that what I've helped build today will still be useful and maintainable for tomorrow’s amateurs and researchers.

Carpe Noctem!

Tovala Telescopes?

Did you feel the amateur astronomy ground shift under your feet last year? While in the making for decades, AI exploded and took center stage in 2023 with the promise (or threat) of doing things for us. And while we have had "smart telescopes" such as the Unistellar eVscope since about 2020, the entry of products such as ZWO's SeeStar and Dwarf2 with a much more affordable price point of about $500 promises to be a game changer to our hobby. 

For those unfamiliar with these instruments, they abstract away most of the challenges in acquiring images of deep sky objects. Their refractor design means no worries collimating anything, and their stacking using short ~10-second captures means minimal tracking snafus. Plate-solving ensures your target is centered in the field. Polar alignment isn't required. It seems the most challenging part is just getting the unit level. The end result is that what used to be a significant threshold in terms of time and money to produce beautiful images of deep space objects has been dramatically lowered. And for those who want to refine the tiny scope's output there's the potential to download the individual subs to play with in your favorite photo processing software. The outcome - as seen here in this example from a photo Ken Sall forwarded from a FB group - is pretty astounding. 

I always grow a bit philosophical when confronted by these sort of advancements to our hobby and their impact. Progress is inevitable (especially if a profit is to be had) and often a boon to us. GoTo technology allows one to be far more efficient in an observing session and obviates the need to employ star-hoping skills. And who would want to go back to capturing photons on film save for the nostalgia of it? (I can smell the pungent aroma of the darkroom's stop-bath  as I typed that...)

And yet - does this sort of quantum leap remove some of the essence of why we take those photos? What is it that pulls us out under the stars in the first place? One approach to answering that question might be to consider Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs in which the 20th century psychologist postulated what makes us tick. The hierarchy is often shown as a pyramid in which a person works their way up from the bottom towards the top. The base of the pyramid deals with one's physical needs - food, shelter, safety. Once those are met we are free to move higher up to psychological needs of friendships and esteem. At the pyramid's pinnacle we have creative activities. Certainly it is in those areas that we find the impetus for people joining our hobby. 

Like most hobbies, astronomy certainly offers the opportunity for community and friendships that often accompany it. That is the raison d'etre for HAL. And, at the moment at least, there is a bond among SeeStar owners as they share their experiences using the scope that isn't seen for most other types of scopes. 

But how do the EAA telescopes fare in terms of fulfilling the esteem and creativity motivators within us? Their popularity would argue they indeed can provide their owners with a sense of pride and spirit of creativity as they image the wonders of the universe. That image of M42 demonstrates that. But over the long haul will that hold up? Those who delve into the processing of the little scope's stack of images to enhance and amplify the resulting photograph will likely continue to have those esteem and creative itches scratched. But for the person whose input is mostly just telling the machine what to target, I suspect that their initial psychological rewards will fade once the sky has done a full turn. Will we see a plethora of eBay listings of these scopes in a couple years?

There is another aspect that is, to me, a little unsettling. How ironic that a telescope calling itself SeeStar actually doesn't allow you to peer through it! There is a wonderful sense of awe peering through the eyepiece at the universe. Some targets, such as Saturn, need no introduction and can become an experience you'll always remember. Others, like seeing the stellar point of light at the center of galaxy M77 and knowing it represents an active galactic nucleus powered by a black hole, are more subtle but just as profound. Many of us also delight in the success of catching a glimpse of a challenging object such as discerning the active star forming region NGC 604 within the Triangulum galaxy or sleuthing out which faint star is actually distant Pluto. I suspect that we can thank another form of progress - light pollution - for the making such things more difficult and fueling our desire to swap out our eyes for the CMOS photon sponges.

All this being said, I need to disclose I've never used one of these scopes - perhaps I'd become their evangelist upon using one! I do sincerely hope that they bring hours of enjoyment to their owners and help grow the ranks of our amateur astronomy community. In our recent HAL board meetings discussing whether we should acquire a unit for club use, I was a solid "aye" vote in the matter (and my thanks to Grace Coventry for her efforts on making that a reality for us). If EAA entices people away from mindless scrolling on social media and brings them out under the night sky for a semi-virtual exploration of the heavens, then it is a huge win - not only for the hobby but for that individual as well.

Hanging Out in the Crib

Amateur astronomy has a bit of a reputation for needing significant and sophisticated equipment to enjoy. And if you are looking to target faint objects, or dive into photography, well then there is certainly some truth to that. But the universe has so much to offer, and some of those items really do not need much more than a nice venue and a pair of binoculars (or your eyes) to touch your soul.

One such type of event is an appulse¹, "an approach between two celestial bodies." As the Moon makes its monthly trek along the ecliptic it will often pair with one of the brighter planets. Due to the various inclinations of their orbits to the ecliptic sometimes we have wide space between the two, or on rarer occasion the Moon will cover up (occult) the object for a period of time. There are also four 1^st magnitude stars that lie sufficiently close to the ecliptic that they can sometimes be visited in the sky by one of the denizens of our solar system. I'll leave it as a research project for those interested in identifying them if you're not familiar with that quartet.

A little more subtle (unless, perhaps, you are in very dark skies) are the three open clusters that lie close enough to the ecliptic to also host one of the planets. Interestingly, these all lie in the Winter Zodiac. The Pleaides is the brightest and most spectacular of the trio. It also lies the farthest off the ecliptic at 4° and so will have infrequent visitors. Every 8 years Venus drops by for a visit to the Seven Sisters, making for a beautiful alignment. 

Venus Amid Pleaides

While M35 in Gemini does not have a catchy moniker, it does own the inside post position to the ecliptic, lying only 52 arc-minutes away. As a result it is more common to see interlopers jog by it, especially Jupiter which has a low inclination to the ecliptic and so unable to stray far from it. It is also noteworthy that M35 comes very close to the point in the heavens where the Sun reaches its greatest northern culmination (i.e., the Summer Solstice) - a conjunction that we can never observe unless there were a Total Solar Eclipse in progress. Talk about your rare event!

The Sumer Solstice - June 21, 2023 11am EDT

Finally we have M44, the "Beehive" cluster in Cancer. A little more than a degree off the ecliptic it also is in position to allow the occasional planetary orb to join its aviary for a night or two. While not as dense or showy as the other two clusters, it is still easily visible to the naked eye from dark skies and was known in antiquity as Praesepe (the "crib"). Sailors used it as a barometer since if it was hidden from view by a veil of thin cirrus clouds then overcast skies and possibly rain was in store for the next day.

All spring there has been a celestial chase between the Goddess of Love and the God of War unfolding in the evening twilight. Venus has been gaining on the Red planet, pursuing him through Taurus, Gemini, and now Cancer. In early June Mars attempted to hide himself among the stars of M44 for a couple of days while Venus drew near to Castor and Pollux to seemingly inquire as to his whereabouts. The dual appulses were beautiful and could be appreciated by one's eyes or simple binoculars. I happened to be at South Bethany in Delaware visiting my sister those evenings, and sitting out back along the canal watching the scene emerge as darkness fell was simple & sublime. 

While I couldn't take my scope, my Canon camera and a tripod were easy to bring and allowed me to create my own postcard souvenir of the trip. Taking a series of 10-sec shots at 18mm captured all the players on stage, and then as darkness fell a set of 3-sec shots at 55mm allowed Mars to have the spotlight as a ruby set amid the glittering bees. Simple processing in freeware such as Deep Sky Stacker and Sequator produced wonderful results with additional enhancement in Photoshop.

Appulses and other simple pleasures of the night sky are encountered multiple times a year. Don't overlook the opportunity they provide to sit back and drink in the profound majesty of the heavens in an uncomplicated way.

¹ This is basically another term for a conjunction

Why Bother?

What is it that causes someone to undertake astronomy as a hobby? I certainly believe that one of the primary drivers is the majesty of the night sky - especially when unencumbered by light pollution. It is a visceral awe that arises from your soul when you behold a sky that is ablaze with stars. 

Milky Way over Blackwater Wildlife Refuge - by Cheryl Kerr

Another incentive is the invitation to ponder the fantastic. We learn of things such as suns collapsed down to neutrons where a pea-sized portion of it would be measured in tons, and we contemplate storms on other planets lasting centuries.

Yet a third enticement is the thought that one might contribute to that body of knowledge. In bygone decades the discovery of a comet was the goal of many a dedicated amateur observer. Others have fastidiously and relentless made magnitude estimates of variable stars, or timed the central meridian crossing of Jovian features. But then the automatons arrived, tireless robotic scopes and orbiting observatories capable of being the eyes on the universe in a way amateurs cannot match.

The perceived loss of relevance is certainly real. Witness the genuine excitement of our community at the prospect of providing exo-planet transit timings to help scientist improve their knowledge about these distant worlds. I fully expect companies like Celestron to soon begin marketing tools to help those who wish to participate in this work.

Planetary observing has been an astronomical passion since my first “real” telescope that enabled me to see features. I started by sketching Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, and Venus to submit to the Association of Lunar and Planetary Observers (ALPO). More recently I’ve taken up imaging as it yields results that are far superior to my aging eyes and artistic talent.

After so many years of just being an ALPO member, I decided last year to volunteer as the coordinator who posts images and sketches from observers across the globe to the ALPO gallery. Twice this week, in email exchanges with individuals who contribute their work to the gallery, I encountered the sense of inadequacy. “It is impossible to keep up with the big guns,” was the lament from one. It can be deflating when comparing one's work to the astounding images produced by amateurs equipped with larger scopes, deeper pockets, and a firm dedication to their craft. Indeed, why bother to capture an image when you know there are others whose work is consistently an order of magnitude better than what you can achieve?

First, I’d argue that self-improvement is never a wasted effort! As you become more familiar with the equipment and software your end result will look better and better. This, in turn, is likely to encourage you to buy that next piece of equipment or program that can push your current boundaries of expertise. You may never reproduce the results of someone like Damien Peach, but that is true with any hobby – from needlepoint to swimming there are dedicated “amateurs” who will always be the ones we strive to emulate.

My Mars images from 2018 and 2020

 

Secondly, you’ll never know when it will in fact be you who witnesses a rare event. It happened to Ethan Chappel two years ago as he was carrying out “lucky imaging” of Jupiter when he recorded a momentary bright flash that turned out to be a boulder-sized meteor striking the planet. He was the only person to capture the event which helps scientists to calculate the frequency of such impacts at Jupiter. If it happened to Ethan (and others over the last decade), it could certainly be you the next time.

A final motivation is that your observation is likely unique. The top gun amateurs are not out there 24x7 capturing video of the major planets. Your photo or sketch can be very useful in determining the drift in longitude of a Jovian cloud feature, pinpointing when and where that Martian dust storm originated, or refining a brightness estimate of an inbound comet. Advancing science is often achieved through many data points – be one of them!

 

Yes, the professionals and leading amateurs have the equipment and resources to provide us with stunning planetary images. But that should not be any reason to rule out the citizen scientist role you can play by persistently going out and reporting on what you see to organizations like ALPO. Keep refining your skills and keep looking up – who knows what opportunity for discovery you might encounter?