The
plan for this week was finish with Curved
Lines in the Sky, at least as far as I pursued it in the spirit
of unsophisticated thinking about the obvious. But while waiting for
November full moon, last week we tried to anticipate its brightness
using the astronomer's magnitude scale. This ran
into an unforeseen problem that might position any interested party
on the brink of Discovering something interesting. Let's deal with that
first, as the Full Moon (tonight) won't wait. Curved lines is deferred
yet again, until "next week."
The 23 November
column contains a link to the challenge of estimating brightness when
a chalky sphere is illuminated from the side. I hadn't
tried it at the time did later manage to integrate the trigonometric
polynomial that seems pertinent according to "reasonable" assumptions.
It comes out wrong. It says the quarter moon (sometimes called half
moon: half the disk is lighted a quarter cycle from new or full) should
be 1/
as bright as full moon:
less than the naïve estimation of 1/2, but not so much less as
in fact observed (1/11: see data graph).
This little checkup applied to our glib estimation of full moon magnitude
seems to have uncovered an interesting flaw in the assumptions. We
assumed the full moon would look dimmer than "full" Sun by a geometric
factor (its radius in radians, squared: about 52,000, or 11.8 magnitudes)
augmented by an absorption factor averaging the grayness of its rocks
(if 7-fold, about 2 magnitudes more, for 14 altogether). But it now
seems that the putative absorption factor depends peculiarly on the
angle between incident and emitted light. Something unexpected is
sure to be learned from this.
One way to
pursue this riddle might be to find out what mistakes linger in the
chosen trigonometric expressions. One way to do that is to look in
computer graphics books or on the web for algorithms used to color
the image of a sphere. This leads to the name "Phong" and to distinguishing
between specular (mirror) components of reflection and "diffuse" components.
For example,
play around with Scott Herod's nice graphics applet at http://amath.colorado.edu/faculty/sherod/classes/Color/phong.html.
He was kind enough to provision it with new sliders D and T in the
bottom right for this column. They allow you to move the light source:
see the formula. Maximize distance D and set the specular reflection
and ambient lighting to 0. At T=0 the light source is behind so you
have the Phong version of full moon. At T=90 degrees the light is
in the upper right and shining at right angles to your line of sight
as at quarter moon. At T=180 degrees it is behind the sphere so you
see no light, as during eclipse of the Sun.
Notice the
formula for the diffuse component, the one we care about. It depends
on the angle between the surface and the incident light, but not on
the direction of viewing. It goes to zero where the light strikes
the surface horizontally, as at sunset or as at the rim of the full
moon. But the full moon does not darken toward its rim. Surely
a man on the surface would report very long shadows on the mostly-dark
ground --- in a moment the Sun will sink below the lunar horizon
--- but strange to say, the ground around him looks to us, viewing
practically at a tangent to the average lunar surface, as bright as
anyplace else. And try this: set the direction of the
light source to 90 degrees as it is one week before or after full
or new moon, and see if the image resembles a disk uniformly lit to
the right of its terminator, and dark to the left of that sharp line,
as the Moon in the sky will look next week (I think). The Moon does
not fit the Phong model used for computer graphics, nor the assumptions
on which that model is based, which are basically the ones that went
into my abortive integral. Could this reveal that the Moon has
rocks where Venus and Jupiter have clouds? Photos of "full Jupiter,"
the only view we ever get from Earth, are dark around the edges,
I find in web rummaging today. Or that the Moon has peculiar
rocks?
It seems
there is something to Discover here, and --- the key point and recurrent
theme of this column --- all it took to notice that is to think for
a moment about the familiar facts that the full moon is mighty bright
compared to a few days later, and that it looks about uniformly bright.
Here is a great opportunity for ingenious thinking and testing of
speculations by further observation.
Maybe the
hills and cliffs of the Moon make it optically different from a smooth
surface: what we really see near the rim is not a surface tilted almost
parallel to the incident sunlight and our line of sight, but the faces
of cliffs and of rocks on hillsides. But a tennis ball has similar
features on a smaller scale, and if you hold it at arm's length in
front of you, illumined only by a lamp over your shoulder, its rim
does look darker, unlike full moon. It looks about the same as a ping-pong
ball even though the surface roughness is quite different. So this
does not seem an adequate explanation.
Rummaging
the web about this mystery I ran across http://www.optics.arizona.edu/Palmer/moon/lunacy.htm:
the otherwise unaccountable brightness of the full Moon's perimeter
may indicate that lunar soils are peculiarly full of little glass
spheres that retro-reflect like a cat's eyes. Such beads apparently
formed 400 million years ago and 3-4 billion years ago during heavy
meteor bombardment: http://www.cnn.com/2000/NATURE/04/03/moon.glass.enn/
Does this
preferentially enhance brightness at the rim of the full disk? How
to check? One way would be to grind moon dust into the surface of
the tennis ball. I don't have any. Another way might be to substitute
the white sandy material, composed of little glass balls from a discarded
movie screen or filched from a road crew pouring them into the white
paint hopper to put down reflective stripes on asphalt. White
sand doesn't work: maybe because the grains are so angular? I tried
this afternoon with such spheres as I happen to have: coated
a white and a black ping-pong ball with glue, then poured on it an
avalanche of 3 mm clear glass spheres. Let it dry, looked at it in
a room lit by only a single distant halogen lamp. A basketball might
serve better, or glass beads ten times smaller, but what I have doesn't
look much like the moon at any phase. Nor does a golf ball;
around the rim where sunlight arrives almost tangent to the mean surface,
its dimples, like craters, show contrasting shadows and sunlit rear
walls. At "full moon" both are dark, on average, around the edges.
So is Jupiter.
Well, does
a "moon" made of clouds instead of rocks, viz. Venus, change its phases
more like the Phong model than like the moon's data
graph? Thus far I found only data covering the phases of Venus
with less than half its disk illumined (I guess because the other
phases, including "full moon" in particular, are lost in the glare
of the Sun). Needed: quantified photos from spacecraft at known distance
looking outward toward Venus from positions nearer the Sun. Or in
the lab or outdoors in sunlight, some photometer readings on all sides
of a sphere coated with each interesting kind of material (against
a flat black background).
During the Leonid meteors
so much bally-hooed on TV two weeks ago it occurred to me that everyone
might be looking in the wrong direction, toward the radiant in Leo
rather than toward the setting new moon where maybe one might see
splats against hard rock rather than against Earth's air. If such
things are going on all the time they might be making new globules
of melted glass all the time. Well, in the hour between sunset and
moonset I didn't see anything with binoculars, but there were three
reports from the east coast that an hour before sunset in Tucson there
was something to see.
A possible
project: It would be great to find or make a movie of Moon phases
captured in various months from CCD snapshots taken at standard duration,
f_stop, and magnification under clear night skies whenever opportunity
permits. Each could represent the corresponding 10-hour interval of
the 709-hour cycle in a 71-frame movie assembled by dilating ever
so slightly and rotating as needed (and maybe masking the background
to absolute black) to present a constant appearance except for brightness.
I imagine it would dramatically "flash" near full moon, in a way that
only certain materials can reproduce. Have you seen such a wonder?
I could not find one.
I probably
won't get time to cultivate this off-shoot further. If you do, I would
be glad to hear of your Adventures in Discovery.
Counting Stars:
Last time there was a second
off-shoot concerning the number of stars visible as a function of
the least detectable brightness (meaning visible to the Hubble Space
Telescope, for example, i.e., not taking into account diurnal and
seasonal obstruction of your vision by the bulk of the Earth or by
the direction-dependent thickness of its atmosphere.) I gave an "inadequate
explanation", partly in desperation and partly to give you opportunity
to think and Discover. The desperation stems from time constraints,
but there is also a deliberate purpose in leaving loose ends: this
column is supposed to represent hand-to-hand encounter with Nature,
not calling in air strikes from the Literature. But then I cheated:
I found better data on star counts in Sky Catalog 2000.0 proceeded
to supplement last week's 4-point plot:
Slope
3/2 is drawn over this log-log plot of a dozen reported star counts
(including the four of last week) against the dimmest naked-eye magnitude
made visible by telescopes. It would be cheating to immediately ask
what astronomers make of this. Our job is to first exploit our own
resources.
With 8 more data points
added this looks lots more interesting than it seemed last week. It
then seemed necessary that the cumulative count (expressed as a log
to the same base as used for magnitudes) would rise as slope 3/2 against
magnitude. This is nearly linear as expected on log-log coordinates,
but the slope is more like 1.2 than 1.5 . It seems that counts fall
short of theory (or magnitude is unexpectedly dim) in a simple regular
way that depends on distance as a power law: the deficit of stars
is proportional to (limiting magnitude)0.3, which would
be (maximum distance)0.6 were our simple model correct.
(Notice this is not somethingdistance, as might
be expected if light traverses an obstacle course in getting to us.)
So let's consider possible meanings:
1)
Our idea of a 3/2 power law came from imagining Sun-like stars uniformly
distributed in volume. What changes if there are two or three or a
continuum of kinds of star, also uniformly distributed in volume,
but with intrinsic absolute Magnitudes different from the Sun's? I
think nothing of importance, but this is something you can explore
in a model.
2)
Are we Discovering that stars actually thin out with distance from
us? Are we in the middle of a dense patch like a globular cluster?
I doubt it, but how to check?
3)
Or that at magnitude 12 we are looking beyond the plane of the galaxy
and so not picking up as many new stars as expected? Pancake half-thickness
out where we live is said to be about 1000 light years; you should
be able estimate the distance corresponding to 27+12 magnitudes
diminution in proportion to distance2. Does it get outside?
4)
In principle, this is the sort of evidence one would look for when
suspecting 3d space is positively curved: volume increases slower
than radius3. But in a logarithmic way?? And to posit
noticeable curvature within the confines of a mere galaxy seems
too ridiculous: it would amount to a hell of a strong gravitational
pull.
5)
What if star light attenuates faster than 1/distance2?
What if it additionally attenuates like e-distance ?
Could there be such density of dust in interstellar space (inside
the galaxy) as to fog out remote beacons, and would uniform fog
uniformly alter the slope on this log-log plot? A quick-and-dirty
spreadsheet or algebraic model will answer this for you. Or look
at it this way: Suppose stars are uniformly scattered
in volume around us, and that the outermost are most dimmed by some
intervening fog. The heavy straight line through the dozen data
above is not what we would expect of a uniform fog that gives
standard stars at range r less brightness in proportion to exp(-r/L)
1/r2 , where L indicates a distance sufficient
to extinguish visible starlight e-fold, about 1 magnitude. In the
xy log coordinates of the graph above (prove this to yourself) that
would be not x = constant + 2/3 y + about 0.13 y, as the graph suggests,
but rather x = constant + 2/3 y + something times 100(1/5
y/3). With y ranging from 2 to 16, and "something" fitted
as about 0.015 to go through the extremities of the line of data,
these two versions of the third term, the interesting and informative
departure from default expectation, are still not very similar.
They both get from one endpoint to the other, but the exponential
one does it along a conspicuous arch not seen in these data. If
the data were somehow biased, and "better" data might traverse such
an arch between the same endpoints, can you figure out what distance
L would be implicit? I think it would be a couple hundred light
years. Could there be that much dust and gas fogging interstellar
space? I doubt it, but maybe such a fog is one component of the
sought-for explanation.
6) What
if it becomes increasingly difficult to reliably census more remote
stars in the glare of all those closer, i.e., what if the stars
themselves are the fog? Again, my model says "no"; what about yours?
7)
Anything else? Most likely I just perpetrated some embarrassingly
simple algebraic error. But maybe not, this time; this just
ostensibly the sort of surprise we hope to stumble upon as scientists.
Such unopened doors superficially all look the same and it is easy
to pass them by with glib "explanations", but if we resist that
temptation some lead to unexpected Discovery.
The point here is not really
about stars and magnitudes, which I assume that astronomers have completely
figured out: it is that asking even childishly simple obvious questions
about observations available to everyone seldom fails to lead to surprises.
The surprises do not have to be facts new to collective and cumulative
human experience: it is good enough if they lead the solo inquirer to
notice personal deficiencies of concept (inconsistencies, ambiguities,
absences) and to correct them. And it is better if one of these little
kindlings serves to start a more substantial fire.
Addenda re prior columns:
Look here
about seeing Venus with naked eye in the daytime (16
November column).
Three notes on the proffered
rough criterion for visibility of a point source like a star in the
daylight sky: did you think of these on 16 November?
1)
Once enough magnification is applied so the source is no longer a
mere "point", further increasing magnification to further thin out
the background no longer helps: it now dims both disk and background
equally and so should no longer affect visibility if contrast is the
decisive factor.
2)
With full moon 14 magnitudes dimmer than the Sun, the moonlit sky
is as much dimmer than daylight sky. So should we suppose that threshold
magnitude -5 for naked-eye visibility in daylight implies magnitude
9 under full moonlight? I bet only stars of magnitude 2 or
brighter will show up tonight (but I have to post this column before
looking. What do you see?). Magnitude 9 differs from 2 by an unmistakable
7 magnitudes.
3)
I suppose (1) is reminding us that there is another criterion: there
must also be enough light entering our pupil to register with our
rod cells. So replace "9" by the reported dimmest visible to naked
eye on a totally dark background: 6. There remains a problem: given
even as little sky glow as daytime magnitude -5 per arc minute (our
effective pixel) dimmed in switching to moonlight by 14 magnitudes
to magnitude 9 per arc minute, we can no longer see those
magnitude 6 stars (or anyway at least the magnitude 4 stars that
we can really see on a clear night) but now only maybe
magnitude 2. That dim moonglow cost us at least 2 magnitudes. Can
you figure out why?
And here are some belated
attempts to write clearly:
Last week's "How many stars
are visible?" was anything but clear. What I meant is "with optical
help" and "if none are obscured by Earth, its atmosphere, or other
obstacles such as interstellar dust clouds."
Similarly "2.51 times more
stars per magnitude," despite its quantitative disguise, is a totally
unclear answer. It is clear that enhancing sensitivity to detect stars
a magnitude dimmer is equivalent to detecting them (same kind of stars)
sqrt(2.51) times further away if energy is transmitted without loss
in expanding spheres. This means the boundary of that enlarged sphere
has 2.51 times the former area. But that is 2.51 times as many stars
only if we consider the compared volumes to be spherical shells
both of the same radial thickness. So a better answer
to the riddle "inadequately explained" might be that skipping a magnitude
fattens the sphere by sqrt(2.51) times the prior radius, not by a
fixed amount, so the new shells added on each time are geometrically
similar and thicker and increase in volume by factor sqrt(2.51)3
at each step. The sum of all the nested shells very nearly does likewise,
differing only by the constant omission of some inner-most sphere.
This is why we expected a 3/2 power law in cumulative star count vs
magnitude limit (and might have been content that Nature agrees, had
I not gotten more data, above: so now we get to Discover something,
perhaps including the existence of matter thinly occupying interstellar
space.)
And the phrase last week,
"half that ratio of f_stop change," also sounds precise
but proves to be ambiguous: does "change" means clicks or printed
numbers? In terms of light intensity or film exposure two clicks
of the shutter speed ring (printed number doubling per click) gets
you two factors of two, and so does two clicks of the f_stop
ring (printed number doubling in two clicks but area doubling per
click ).
Interpreting the Curvature
of Straight Lines (written 8 November with 16 November intent)
will finally appear next week (7 December), after these three weeks
of detour to exploit Discovery opportunities latent in Alan MacRobert's
9 November Stellar Magnitudes article.