Tears in the night: notes on the Perseids meteor shower
a small deluge of facts about the upcoming show
Author’s note: this is an updated and slightly expanded version of a post from a year ago. But after another lap around the sun, we’re once again about to collide with a giant cloud of space debris, so buckle up!
This weekend I’ll be attending a folk festival in western Wisconsin, which means lots of fiddle jam sessions, camping, band performances, and hopefully losing fewer tents to violent storms than last year. But one benefit of the festival is that it is in a fairly remote, dark place, which means we’ll be able to see some meteors! Another kind of rain, I suppose, a rain of shooting stars. The Perseids meteor shower peaks Sunday-Monday, August 11-12. So as a bonus post, 12 small facts related to this exciting astronomical event:
This meteor shower occurs when the earth, ploughing through space at its ferocious pace of 67,000 mph, passes through a cloud of debris left behind by the comet Swift-Tuttle.
Comet Swift-Tuttle has an orbital period of 133 years, and last appeared in the inner solar system in 1995.
Due to its regular crossing of earth’s orbit and rather large size (its nucleus is about 16 miles across), comet Swift-Tuttle has been described as “the single most dangerous object known to humanity.”
The Perseids get their name because the meteors tend to appear to come from the constellation Perseus, which represents, in some myths, a hero.
The Perseids are best viewed later at night: after midnight (and before noon) you are on the side of earth pointed most forward in earth’s orbit, which means the side that will typically catch the most space rocks.
But the most important thing you can do for viewing the meteor shower is to find dark (and, yes, preferably not cloudy) skies, and patiently let your eyes adapt. The more dark the darkness, the more you will see.
I once saw a fireball from the Perseids meteor shower streak across the sky in northern Michigan, on a night when tears of anger streaked my face due to an almost, or was it actual?, breakup call. It left a trail that I could still see in my eyes afterwards, like the ghost of some cosmic sparkler waved rapidly by an angel’s dancing hand. Trying to get my attention, I suppose. A nod to a universe bigger than my teenage emotions. It felt like a mini-miracle, something years later I remember clearly, but still hardly believe.
Speaking of tears: apparently the Perseids are sometimes referred to as the tears of Saint Lawrence, who is remembered as having been martyred on August 10th.
I think it might be productive to imagine meteors as heaven’s tears.
Tears can accompany both joy and sorrow, laughter and pain. According to Smithsonian magazine, “an estimated 25 million meteors enter the atmosphere each day.” The vast majority of these are far too tiny for us to ever see. But they are there nonetheless.
Meteors add about 40-50 tons of material to the earth each year.
However, the earth doesn’t gain weight, because it is losing hydrogen and helium to outer space. In fact, it is (very slowly) losing weight with time (an interesting fact, but does this relate to the topic at hand? That I suppose, is up to you).
Ok, a final, bonus observation: I at first found meteor showers to be one of the great disappointments of night time observing. 60 meteors an hour sounds like a lot, but that’s only 1 a minute. And you need a very dark sky for that. I had some idea from TV or something there would just be streaks everywhere all the time. That’s not the case. However, as I’ve learned to observe meteor showers, and have spent more time in the shimmering waters of the night, I’ve come to appreciate the beauty of a show that requires patience, adapted eyes, and maybe a slightly sore neck to see. A shooting star almost every minute: you look and look till your thoughts start to wander when suddenly there — a streak of light, sending a new shiver of excitement down your spine every time. Each a little surprise, a connection to a night sky that’s alive: laughing and crying tears of light into the depths of the night.