I'm a long-time amateur astronomer and member of the American Association of Variable Star Observers (AAVSO). My observing passions include everything from auroras to Z Cam stars. I also write a daily astronomy blog called Astro Bob. My new book, "Wonders of the Night Sky You Must See Before You Die", a bucket list of essential sky sights, will publish in April. It's currently available for pre-order at Amazon and BN.
Oh my, oh my. Rolando Ligustri captured this scene last night as Comet Q2 Lovejoy swished past the globular cluster M79 in Lepus. If you’ve seen the movie Wild or read the book, you’ll be familiar with the phrase “put yourself in the way of beauty”, a maxim for living life adopted by one of its characters. When I opened up my e-mail today and saw Rolando’s photo, I felt like the beauty truck ran right over me.
More beautiful images arrived later including this one by Chris Schur of Arizona.
Even with the Moon at first quarter phase, the comet was plainly visible in binoculars last night shining at magnitude +5. I used 8x40s and had no problem seeing Lovejoy’s blobby glow. With a coma about 15-20 arc minutes in diameter or more than half the size of a the Full Moon, it really fills up the field of view when seen through a telescope at low to medium magnification.
If you love the aqua blue hues of the Caribbean, Lovejoy will remind you it’s time to book another tropical vacation. In both my 15-inch (37-cm) and 10-inch (25-cm) reflectors, the coma glowed a delicious pale blue-green in contrast to the pearly white cluster. I encourage you to look for the comet in the next few nights before the Moon is full. Starting on January 6-7, the Moon begins its move out of the evening sky, giving observers with dark skies a chance to view Lovejoy with the naked eye. I’m looking forward to seeing its long, faint tail twist among the stars of Eridanus as the comet rapidly moves northward over the next week.
For a map on how to find the comet, check my recent article on Lovejoy’s many tails. Cheers to finding beauty the next clear night!
Sunlight. Moonlight. Starlight. I saw all three for the first time in weeks yesterday. Filled with photons, I feel lighter today, less burdened. Have you been under the clouds too? Let’s hope it’s clear tonight because there’s a nice event you’ll want to see if only because it’s so effortless.
The half-moon will pass very close to the planet Uranus for skywatchers across North America this evening Sunday, Dec. 28th. Pop the rubber lens caps off those binoculars and point them at the Moon. If you look a short distance to the left you’ll notice a star-like object. That’s the planet!
You can do this anytime it’s dark, but the later you look the better because the Moon moves eastward and closer to the planet as the hours tick by. Early in the evening, the two will be separated by a couple degrees, but around 11:30 p.m. CST (9:30 p.m. PST) when the Moon reclines in the western sky, the planet will dangle like an solitary diamond less than a third of a lunar diameter away. When closest to the Moon, Uranus may prove tricky to see in its glare. If you hide the Moon behind a chimney, roofline or power pole, you’ll find it easier to see the planet.
The farther north you live, the closer the twain will be. Skywatchers in Japan, the northeastern portion of Russia, northern Canada and Alaska will see the Moon completely hide Uranus for a time. The farther west you are, the higher the Moon will be when they conjoin. West Coast states see the pair highest when they’re closest, but everyone will get a good view.
When closest, the radically different character of each world can best be appreciated in a telescope. Pump the magnification up to 150x and slide both planet and Moon into the same field of view. Uranus, a pale blue dot, wears a permanent cover of methane-laced clouds where temperatures hover around -350°F (-212°C).
The fantastically large-appearing Moon in contrast has precious little atmosphere and its sunny terrain bakes at 250°F (121°C). And just look at those craters! First-quarter phase is one of the best times for Moon viewing. The terminator or shadow-line that divides lunar day from night slices right across the middle of the lunar landscape.
Shadows cast by mountain peaks and crater rims are longest and most dramatic around this time because we look squarely down upon them. At crescent and gibbous phases, the terminator is off to one side and craters and their shadows appear scrunched and foreshortened.
Enjoy the tonight’s conjunction and consider the depth of space your view encompasses. Uranus is 1.85 billion miles (2.9 billion km) from Earth today, some 7,700 times farther away than the half-moon.
Maybe you’ve seen Comet Q2 Lovejoy. It’s a big fuzzy ball in binoculars low in the southern sky in the little constellation Lepus the Hare. That’s the comet’s coma or temporary atmosphere of dust and gas that forms when ice vaporizes in sunlight from the nucleus. Until recently a faint 3° ion or gas tail trailed in the coma’s wake, but on and around December 23rd it snapped off and was ferried away by the solar wind. Just as quickly, Lovejoy re-grew a new ion tail but can’t seem to hold onto that one either. Like a feather in the wind, it’s in the process of being whisked away today.
Easy come, easy go. Comets usually have two tails, one of dust particles that reflect sunlight and another of ionized gases that fluoresce in Sun’s ultraviolet radiation. Ion tails form when cometary gases, primarily carbon monoxide, are ionized by solar radiation and lose an electron to become positively charged. Once “electrified”, they’re susceptible to magnetic fields embedded in the high-speed stream of charged particles flowing from the Sun called the solar wind. Magnetic field lines embedded in the wind drape around the comet and draw the ions into a long, skinny tail directly opposite the Sun.
Disconnection events happen when fluctuations in the solar wind cause oppositely directed magnetic fields to reconnect in explosive fashion and release energy that severs the tail. Set free, it drifts away from the comet and dissipates. In active comets, the nucleus continues to produce gases, which in turn are ionized by the Sun and drawn out into a replacement appendage. In one of those delightful coincidences, comets and geckos both share the ability to re-grow a lost tail.
Comet Encke tail disconnection April 20, 2007 as seen by STEREO
Comet Halley experienced two ion tail disconnection events in 1986, but one of the most dramatic was recorded by NASA’s STEREO spacecraft on April 20, 2007. A powerful coronal mass ejection (CME) blew by comet 2P/Encke that spring day wreaking havoc with its tail. Magnetic field lines from the plasma blast reconnected with opposite polarity magnetic fields draped around the comet much like when the north and south poles of two magnets snap together. The result? A burst of energy that sent the tail flying.
Comet Lovejoy may have also crossed a sector boundary where the magnetic field carried across the Solar System by Sun’s constant breeze changed direction from south to north or north to south, opposite the magnetic domain the comet was immersed in before the crossing. Whether solar wind flutters, coronal mass ejections or sector boundary crossings, more tail budding likely lies in Lovejoy’s future. Like the chard in your garden that continues to sprout after repeated snipping, the comet seems poised to spring new tails on demand.
If you haven’t seen the comet, it’s now glowing at magnitude +5.5 and faintly visible to the naked eye from a dark sky site. Without an obvious dust tail and sporting a faint ion tail(s), the comet’s basically a giant coma, a fuzzy glowing ball easily visible in a pair of binoculars or small telescope.
In a very real sense, Comet Lovejoy experienced a space weather event much like what happens when a CME compresses Earth’s magnetic field causing field lines of opposite polarity to reconnect on the back or nightside of the planet. The energy released sends millions of electrons and protons cascading down into our upper atmosphere where they stimulate molecules of oxygen and nitrogen to glow and produce the aurora. One wonders whether comets might even experience their own brief auroral displays.
Excellent visualization showing how magnetic fields line on Earth’s nightside reconnect to create the rain of electrons that cause the aurora borealis. Notice the similarity to comet tail loss.
Call it holiday light creep. A NASA satellite has been tracking the spread of Christmas lighting from 512 miles up for the past three years and according to the data, nighttime lights around many major U.S. cities shine 20 to 50 percent brighter during Christmas and New Year’s when compared to light output during the rest of the year. Not surprisingly, most it comes from suburban areas.
Christmas isn’t the only time holiday festivities spill into the cosmic night. In some Middle Eastern Cities nighttime lights shine more than 50 percent brighter during Ramadan than the rest of the year. Because snow reflects so much light, the researchers could only analyze snow-free cities lest they risk comparing apples to oranges. The team focused on the U.S. West Coast from San Francisco to Los Angeles and on cities south of a rough line from St. Louis to Washington, D.C.
As someone who has spent many winter nights observing I can attest to snow being a major factor in nighttime sky brightness. Even downward shielded lighting must necessarily reflect upward and into the heavens when it strikes the snow below. Summer is a far darker time of year than winter across much of the northern U.S.
The orbital images were all taken by the Suomi NPP satellite, a joint NASA/National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration mission, carries an instrument called the Visible Infrared Imaging Radiometer Suite (VIIRS) that detects light in a range of wavelengths from green to near-infrared as it flies over at roughly 1:30 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. each day. VIIRS has a low-light sensor that can distinguish night lights tens to hundreds of times better than previous satellites. In the U.S. the lights starting getting brighter the day after Thanksgiving and continued through News Year’s Day. Miguel Román, a scientist at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center and member of the Suomi NPP Land Discipline Team, made the discovery while researching urban energy use patterns in the context of greenhouse emissions. And you thought all those twinkly bulbs were just for fun.
NASA Sees Holiday Lights from Space
The science team found that light intensity increased by 30 to 50 percent in the suburbs and outskirts of major cities. Lights in the central urban areas didn’t increase as much as in the suburbs, but still brightened by 20 to 30 percent. This makes sense when you consider that folks in the ‘burbs not only decorate their homes but often extend Christmas displays across the yard and up into the trees.
Holiday lighting – a simple joy of the season. Yet it reflects both the hopes and wishes of human culture and the mundane facts of energy use. Through satellites, we can step back and watch the world change in ways never thought possible. We truly live in the Age of the Anthopocene, a newly designated era reflecting the profound effect our species has had and continues to have on the planet. To see all the holiday space photos, check out Goddard’s Flickr page.
Short-period comet 15P/Finlay, which had been plunking along at a dim magnitude +11, has suddenly brightened in the past couple days to +8.7, bright enough to see in 10×50 or larger binoculars. Czech comet observer Jakub Cerny and his team photographed the comet on December 16th and discovered the sudden surge. Wonderful news!
While comets generally brighten as they approach the Sun and fade as they depart, any one of them can undergo a sudden outburst in brightness. You can find Finlay right now low in the southwestern sky at nightfall near the planet Mars. While outbursts are common, astronomers still aren’t certain what causes them. It’s thought that sub-surface ices, warmed by the comet’s approach to the Sun, expand until the pressure becomes so great they shatter the ice above, sending large fragments flying and exposing fresh new ice. Sunlight gets to work vaporizing both the newly exposed vents and aerial shrapnel. Large quantities of dust trapped in the ice are released and glow brightly in the Sun’s light, causing the comet to quickly brighten.
Some comets flare up dramatically. Take 29P/Schwassmann-Wachmann. Normally a dim bulb at 17th magnitude, once or twice a year it flares to magnitude 12 and occasionally 10!
Whatever the reason, outbursts can last from days to weeks. It’s anybody’s guess how long 15P/Finlay will remain a relatively easy target for comet hungry skywatchers. While not high in the sky, especially from the northern U.S., it can be seen during early evening hours if you plan well.
Comet Finlay was discovered by William Henry Finlay from South Africa on September 26, 1886. It reaches perihelion or closest approach to the Sun on December 27th and was expected to brighten to magnitude +10 when nearest Earth in mid-January at 130 million miles (209 million km). Various encounters with Jupiter since discovery have increased its original period of 4.3 years to the current 6.5 years and shrunk its perihelion distance from 101 million to 90 million miles.
Looking at the map above it’s amazing how closely the comet’s path parallels that of Mars this month. Unlike Comet Siding Spring’s encounter with that planet last October, Finlay’s proximity is line of sight only. Still, it’s nice to have a fairly bright planet nearby to point the way to our target. Mars and Finlay’s paths intersect on December 23rd, when the duo will be in close conjunction only about 10? apart (1/3 the diameter of the Full Moon) for observers in the Americas. They’ll continue to remain almost as close on Christmas Eve. Along with Comet Q2 Lovejoy, this holiday season is turning out to be a joyous occasion for celestial fuzzballs!
Cast your gaze up, up, up on the next dark, moonless night and stare into the Great Square of Pegasus. How many stars do you see? Zero? Two? Twenty? If you’d like to find out how dark your sky is, read on.
The Great Square, one of the fall sky’s best known star patterns, rides high in the south at nightfall in mid-December. It forms part of the larger figure of Pegasus the Winged Horse. For our purposes today, we’re going to concentrate on what’s inside the square.
Bounded by Alpheratz (officially belonging to adjacent Andromeda), Scheat, Markab and Algenib, the Great Square is about 15° on a side or one-and-a-half balled fists held at arm’s length.
At first glance, the space appears empty, but a closer look from all but the most light polluted skies will reveal a pair 4th magnitude stars in the upper right quadrant of the square. Fourth magnitude is about the viewing limit from a bright suburban location.
Astronomers use the magnitude scale to measure star and planet brightness. Each magnitude is 2.5 times brighter than the one below it. Aldebaran, which shines at 1st magnitude, is 2.5 times brighter than a 2nd magnitude star, which in turn is 2.5 times brighter than a 3rd magnitude star and so on.
A first magnitude star is 2.5 x 2.5 x 2.5 x 2.5 x 2.5 (about 100) times brighter than a 6th magnitude star. The bigger the magnitude number, the fainter the star. From cities, you might see 3rd magnitude stars if you can block out stray lighting, but a dark country sky will deliver the Holy Grail naked eye limit of magnitude 6. Skywatchers with utterly dark conditions might glimpse stars as faint 7.5. My own personal best is 6.5.
With each drop in magnitude the number of stars you can see increases exponentially. There are only 22 first magnitude or brighter stars compared to 5,946 stars down to magnitude 6.
Ready to stretch your sight and rate your night sky? Step outside at nightfall and allow your eyes to dark-adapt for 20 minutes. With a copy of the map (above) in hand, start with the brightest stars and work your way to the faintest. Each every small step down the magnitude ladder prepares your eyes the next.
With a little effort you should be able to spot the four 4th magnitude range stars. At magnitude 5, you’ll work harder. Moving beyond 5.5 can be very challenging. I revert to averted vision to corral these fainties. Instead of staring directly at the star, play your eye around it. Look a bit to this side and that. This allows a rod-rich part of the retina that’s excellent at seeing faint stuff play through the scene and snatch up the faintest possible stars.
From my house I can pick out about dozen points of light inside the Square on a moonless night. How many will you see? Once you know your magnitude limit, compare your result to John Bortle’s Dark Sky Scale … and weep. No, just kidding. But his Class 1 excellent sky includes a description of seeing stars down to magnitude 8 and the summer Milky Way casting shadows.
Hard to believe that before about 1790, when gas lighting was introduced in England, Class 1 skies were the norm across virtually the entire planet. Nowadays, most of us have to drive a hundred miles or more to experience true, untrammeled darkness.
Have fun with the challenge and let us know in the comments area how you do. Here’s hoping you find the Great Square far from vacant.
Wouldn’t it be nice if a meteor shower peaked on a weekend instead of 3 a.m. Monday morning? Maybe even showed good activity in the evening hours, so we could get our fill and still get to bed at a decent hour. Wait a minute – this year’s Geminids will do exactly that!
What’s more, since the return of this rich and reliable annual meteor shower occurs around 6 a.m. (CST) on Sunday December 14th, both Saturday and Sunday nights will be equally good for meteor watching. After the Perseids took a battering from the Moon last August, the Geminids will provide the best meteor display of 2014. They do anyway! The shower’s been strengthening in recent years and now surpasses every major shower of the year.
The official literature touts a rate of 120 meteors per hour visible from a dark sky site, but I’ve found 60-80 per hour a more realistic expectation. Either way, what’s to complain?
The third quarter Moon rises around midnight Saturday and 1 a.m. on Monday morning. Normally, moonlight would be cause for concern, but unlike many meteor showers the Geminids put on a decent show before midnight. The radiant, the location in the sky from which the meteors will appear to stream, will be well up in the east by 9:30 p.m. local time. That’s a good 2-3 hours of meteor awesomeness before moonrise.
Shower watching is a total blast because it’s so simple. Your only task is to dress warmly and get comfortable in a reclining chair aware from the unholy glare of unshielded lighting. The rest is looking up. Geminid meteors will flash anywhere in the sky, so picking a direction to watch the shower isn’t critical. I usually face east or southeast for the bonus view of Orion lumbering up from the horizon.
Bring your camera, too. I use a moderately wide angle lens (24-35mm) at f/2.8 (widest setting), set my ISO to 800 or 1600 and make 30-second exposures. The more photos you take, the better chance of capturing a meteor. You can also automate the process by hooking up a relatively inexpensive intervalometer to your camera and have it take the pictures for you.
As you ease back and let the night pass, you’ll see other meteors unrelated to the shower, too. Called sporadics, they trickle in at the rate of 2-5 an hour. You can always tell a Geminid from an interloper because its path traces back to the radiant. Sporadics drop down from any direction.
Geminid meteors immolate in Earth’s atmosphere at a moderate speed compared to some showers – 22 miles per second (35 km/sec) – and often flare brightly. Green, red, blue, white and yellow colors have been recorded, making the shower one of the more colorful. Most interesting, the meteoroid stream appears to be sorted according to size with faint, telescopic meteors maxing out a day before the naked eye peak. Larger particles continue to produce unusually bright meteors up to a few days after maximum.
Most meteor showers are the offspring of comets. Dust liberated from vaporizing ice gets pushed back by the pressure of sunlight to form a tail and fans out over the comet’s orbital path. When Earth’s orbit intersects a ribbon of this debris, sand and gravel-sized bits of rock crash into our atmosphere at high speed and burn up in multiple flashes of meteoric light.
But the Geminids are a peculiar lot. Every year in mid-December, Earth crosses not a comet’s path but that of 3200 Phaethon (FAY-eh-thon), a 3.2 mile diameter (5.1 km) asteroid. Phaethon’s elongated orbit brings it scorchingly close (13 million miles) to the Sun every 1.4 years. Normally a quiet, well-behaved asteroid, Phaethon brightened by a factor of two and was caught spewing jets of dustwhen nearest the Sun in 2009, 2010 and 2012. Apparently the intense heat solar heating either fractured the surface or heated rocks to the point of desiccation, creating enough dust to form temporary tails like a comet.
While it looks like an asteroid most of the time, Phaethon may really be a comet that’s still occasionally active. Periodic eruptions provide the fuel for the annual December show.
Most of us will head out Saturday or Sunday night and take in the shower for pure enjoyment, but if you’d like to share your observations and contribute a bit of knowledge to our understanding of the Geminids, consider reporting your meteor sightings to the International Meteor Organization. Here’s the link to get started.
And this just in … Italian astronomer Gianluca Masi will webcast the shower starting at 8 p.m. CST December 13th (2 a.m. UT Dec. 14) on his Virtual Telescope Project site.
Hmmm. Something with a long white beard is making an appearance in northern skies this week. Could it be Santa Claus? No, a bit early for the jolly guy yet, but comet watchers will soon find a special present under the tree this season. Get ready to unwrap Comet Lovejoy Q2, now bright enough to spot in a pair of 10×50 binoculars.
Following a rocket-like trajectory into the northern sky, this visitor from deep space is no longer reserved for southern skywatchers alone. If you live in the central U.S., Lovejoy Q2 pokes its head from Puppis in the early morning hours this week. Glowing at magnitude +7.0-7.5, it’s a faint, fuzzy cotton ball in binoculars from a dark sky and visible in telescopes as small as 3-inches (7.5 cm). With the Moon past full and phasing out of the picture, comet viewing will continue to improve in the coming nights. What fun to watch Lovejoy gradually accelerate from its present turtle-like amble to agile cheetah as it leaps from Lepus to Taurus at the rate of 3° a day later this month. Why the hurry? The comet is approaching Earth and will pass nearest our planet on January 7th at a distance of 43.6 million miles (70.2 million km). Perihelion follows some three weeks later on January 30th.
The new object is Australian amateur Terry Lovejoy’s 5th comet discovery. He captured images of the faint, 15th magnitude wisp on August 17th with a Celestron C-8 fitted with a CCD camera at his roll-off roof observatory in Brisbane, Australia. Comet Lovejoy Q2 has a period of about 11,500 years with an orbit steeply inclined to the plane of the Solar System (80.3°), the reason for its sharp northern climb. As December gives way to January the comet crosses from below to above the plane of the planets.
Comet Lovejoy is expected to brighten to perhaps 5th magnitude as it approaches Earth, making it faintly visible with the naked eye from a dark sky site. Now that’s what I call a great way to start the new year!
To help you find it, use the top map to get oriented; the detailed charts (below) show stars to magnitude +8.0. Click each to enlarge and then print out a copy for use at night. Bonus! Comet Lovejoy will pass only 10 arc minutes (1/3°) south of the 8th magnitude globular cluster M79 on December 28-29 – a great opportunity for astrophotographers and observers alike. Both comet and cluster will pose side by side in the same binocular and telescopic field of view. In early January I’ll post fresh maps to help you track the comet all through next month, too.
We’ve posted many beautiful aurora photos and videos over the years here at Universe Today, but this one about stopped my heart. Titled “Soaring”, it was all shot in real time by Ole Salomonsen, a landscape photographer based in Tromsø, Norway. Salomonsen has been shooting spectacular stills and videos of the northern lights for years. While not the first aurora video done in real time, it’s probably the most successful, high definition effort to date. Ole used a Sony A7S, which he calls “the best low light camera ever”.
It was shot from late August to mid-November in and around the city of Tromsø, as well as on the island of Senja, Norway’s second largest island and a three-hour drive from the city. But what sets this video apart from many is that it shows the aurora unfolding live as if you’re standing right there. No time lapse.
Having witnessed the northern lights many times over the years from my home in northern Minnesota, I can vouch for how close to reality this work truly is. There’s a little more color saturation than what the naked eye would pick up, but the aurora’s changing rhythms are beautifully captured. Ole also mixes in dramatic pan shots taken as if you were running to find a clearing to get the best view. Honestly, that blew me away.
“Although auroras mostly move slowly and majestic, they can also move really fast,” wrote Salomonsen. After seeing the slow undulations of curtains and rays early in the film, you’ll really appreciate the aurora’s other side – its dazzling speed.
“The corona I captured and the lightning fast sequences at the end are some of the most amazing shows I have witnessed in my many years of hunting and filming the lights,” added Ole.
And now for the most amazing part. What you just watched is only a fraction of what Salomonsen has shot during the season. Expect more soon!
In the reeds that line the banks of the celestial river Eridanus, you’ll find Hebe on the prowl this month. Discovered in 1847 by German amateur astronomer Karl Ludwig Hencke , the asteroid may hold the key to the origin of the H-chondrites, a large class of metal-rich stony meteorites found in numerous amateur and professional collections around the world. You can now see this interesting minor planet with nothing more than a pair of binoculars or small telescope.
The first four asteroids – Ceres, Pallas, Juno and Vesta – were discovered in quick succession from 1801 to 1807. Then nothing turned up for years. Most astronomers wrongly assumed all the asteroids had been found and moved on to other projects like measuring the orbits of double stars and determining stellar parallaxes. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Hencke, who worked as a postmaster during the day, doggedly persisted in sieving the stars for new asteroids in his free time at night. His systematic search began in 1830. Fifteen years and hundreds of cold nights at the eyepiece later he turned up 5 Astrae (asteroid no. 5) on Dec. 8, 1845, and 6 Hebe on July 1, 1847.
Energized by the finds, astronomers returned to their telescopes with renewed gusto to join in the hunt once again. The rest is history. As of November 2014 there are 415,688 numbered asteroids and a nearly equal number of unnumbered discoveries. Fittingly, asteroid 2005 Hencke honors the man who kept the fire burning.
At 120 miles (190 km) across, Hebe is one of the bigger asteroids (officially 33rd in size in the main belt) and orbits the Sun once every 3.8 years. It will be our guest this final month of the year shining at magnitude +8.2 in early December, +8.5 by mid-month and +8.9 when you don your party hat on New Year’s Eve. All the while, Hebe will loop across the barrens of Eridanus west of Orion. Use the maps here to help track it down. I’ve included a detailed color map above, but also created a “black stars on white” version for those that find reverse charts easier to use.
In more recent times, Hebe’s story takes an interesting turn. Through a study of its gravitational nudges on other asteroids, astronomers discovered that Hebe is a very compact, rocky object, not a loosey-goosey pile of rubble like some asteroids. Its high density provides strong evidence for a composition of both rock and iron. Scientists can determine the approximate composition of an asteroid’s surface by studying its reflectance spectrum, or what colors or wavelengths are reflected back from the object after a portion is absorbed by its surface. They use infrared light because different minerals absorb different wavelengths of infrared light. That data is compared to infrared absorptions from rocks and meteorites found on Earth. Turns out, our friend Hebe’s spectrum is a good match to two classes of meteorites – the H-chondrites, which comprise 40% of known meteorites – and the rarer IIE silicated iron meteorites.
Because Hebe orbits close to an unstable zone in the asteroid belt, any impacts it suffers are soon perturbed by Jupiter’s gravity and launched into trajectories than can include the Earth. When you spot Hebe in your binoculars the next clear night, you might just be seeing where many of the more common space rocks in our collections originated.