Sun Spotting

Two weekends ago, Iain and I went to hear a presentation on solar astronomy at Manuel's Tavern.  It was part of the Atlanta Science Tavern series, a wonderful learning and networking group that Marc Merlin runs.  I don't know much of the background on either the Science Tavern or Marc -- I stumbled across it by chance -- but Tom and I have been to a few of the sessions at Manuel's and always enjoyed them.  This time, Tom was off with Sarah for a college visit, so it was just Iain and me.  I told him I wasn't completely sure I could get him into Manuel's (did he have to be 18?  I wasn't sure) but we didn't asked and no one said anything, and there were a couple of other kids there who looked even younger.

We got there early and it was a long time before the program started.  Iain had not been so sure about this anyway but then there was too much sitting, waiting for things to start.  But once it did, we both agreed that it was worth the wait.  The speaker was Stephen Ramsden, the founder of the Charlie Bates Solar Astronomy Project, a science outreach program that goes to schools and kids get to look at a close-up star through a real telescope, one where you can see all kinds of things you never knew were there.  And they do this during the school day, so the close-up star they look at is the sun.  With the right equipment, you not only don't go blind but you see sun spots, eruptions, and a teeming, boiling, burning surface.  With the right equipment you can take amazing pictures, and Mr. Ramsden has the right equipment and with it, middle school and high school students capture incredible images that Mr. Ramsden posts on line.  There were other images he showed us too, from NASA's Solar Dynamics Observatory.  Pieces of the sun leaping up from its surface, dramatic limbs of fire and electromagnetic force that make a break for the emptiness of space beyond.  I never thought there was so much going on there.  It's easy to take it for granted, this nearby star that gives our planet life.

The next morning I left early, while it was still dark, for Athens to pick up Caroline.  It was foggy, and it wasn't until the sun was completely up that I saw it, an orange disc, flat in the white sky, its churning turmoil invisible to my eyes.  Later that morning, approaching home, I felt its warmth through the car window, and again felt wonder, for just a moment.