As Betelgeuse once said to Rigel, "You can't be Sirius!

When I was a young lad in Texas 70 years ago, my Dad introduced me to the glories of the night sky. He showed me The Big Dipper in the constellation Ursa Major (Big Bear) and how to draw a line through two of its stars to find Polaris, the North Star, which was at the end of the handle of The Little Dipper in the constellation Ursa Minor (Little Bear). He showed me how to look an equal distance beyond Polaris to find Cassiopeia, which according to Wikipedia "was one of the 48 constellations listed by the 2nd-century Greek astronomer Ptolemy, and it remains one of the 88 modern constellations today. It is easily recognizable due to its distinctive 'W' shape, formed by five bright stars. It is opposite the Big Dipper."

It is not really "opposite" the Big Dipper, but I know what Wikipedia was trying to say. My Dad said it better.

Speaking of my Dad, he also showed me Orion the Hunter, easily identified by the three stars in his belt; and Sirius, the Dog Star; and Leo the Lion; and red Antares in Scorpius (which really does look like a scorpion if your imagination is good enough).

He showed me Venus and Jupiter and Mars. He showed me the Milky Way. Anybody who does that can’t be all bad.

The Milky Way was easily visible in those days and stunning on the dark, flat plains of Texas. Today it cannot be seen from our urban and suburban areas because of all the man-made light near the ground.

Later I learned that Orion's right shoulder was the star Betelgeuse and his left knee was the star Rigel. I say "left" and "right" assuming Orion is facing toward us. If he is facing away from us, Betelgeuse is his left shoulder and Rigel is his right knee. I’m just saying.

(Image from stars.astro.illinois.edu/sow/oricma-p.html)

This week I had a huge shock. I took my dog out for her last nightly walk before bedtime, looked up into the sky and saw bright Sirius, and glanced to the right to see my old friend Orion. There was Betelgeuse on his shoulder. There was Rigel on his knee.

I couldn't see his belt.

The macular degeneration in my eyes has reached the point that the only way I can see dimmer stars like the ones in Orion's belt any more is to look slightly to the right of them and pick them up in my peripheral vision, which isn't nearly as satisfying.

It's just more evidence that I am slowly going the way of all flesh.

Today is YORKSHIRE DAY!!!

Whatever that is.

It is also another one of the dog days of summer of 2013 in the northern hemisphere, the diēs caniculārēs, which every person worth his or her salt knows have something or other to do with a bright star called Sirius in the constellation Canis Major.

You did know that, didn’t you?

Oh, wait. I forgot all about “don’t ask, don’t tell,” which I believe originated in another context altogether but which I will now generously apply to whether you know anything about the origin of the dog days. I will simply assume that each person reading this post is worth his or her salt, and no one will be the wiser, although some may have their suspicions.

Canis Major means Large Dog or, more accurately, Dog Large, since the speakers of Latin among us continue to put their nouns before their adjectives, which is roughly equivalent to putting their carts before their horses but nothing at all like putting I before E except after C or when sounded like A as in neighbor and weigh.

The Dog Days should not be confused with Dog Days (ドッグデイズ, Doggu Deizu), a 2011 Japanese fantasy anime television series about Cinque Izumi, a cheerful and athletic half-Japanese, half-English boy who is summoned to the alternate world of Flonyar (where people look no different from humans except that they have animal ears and tails) by the dog-like Princess Millhiore of the Biscotti Republic ((ビスコッティ共和国, Bisukotti Kyōwa-koku), to assist in the war against the forces of the feline-like Galette Lion Dominion (ガレット獅子団領, Garetto Shishi Danrei).

I am not even kidding.

If you are really worth your salt as a reader of this blog, you should know what I’m about to say about the war between the forces of the Biscotti Republic and the forces of the Galette Lion Dominion. Here it comes. Wait for it...wait for it...

They fight like cats and dogs.

Yes, they do.

Kind of like the Houses of Lancaster and York.

In conclusion, a very happy YORKSHIRE DAY to each and every one of you, even those of you from Lancashire, and may all your Doggu Deizu Dog Days be merry and bright.

It’s that time of year again.

The dog days have returned. Here are some weird stories to help you get through them:

1. Mental Disorders Demonstrated by Winnie the Pooh Characters

2. Florida Man Found In California Motel Awakens With Amnesia and Speaking Only Swedish

3.

I have decided that it’s much too hot to do any more research.
I think I’ll just gaze at the night sky instead.

It was Heraclitus, I think

...who said in the fifth century B.C., “The only permanent thing is change,” only he said it in Greek, of course, unless he didn’t say it at all, which is also a possibility. And if he didn’t say it at all, he said something very much like it: “No man steps in the same river twice” -- except it turns out he didn’t say that either. But “The only permanent thing is change” is a fair summation of what he is supposed to have said or not said, if you get my drift. So much for my exhaustive research.

I have been thinking of Heraclitus the last few mornings when I have taken Jethro out for his daily constitutionals around dawn. Dawn itself changes every day, being a little later each morning as our Earth moves around in its orbit, imperceptibly, and the direct rays of the sun at its zenith get a little farther south each day toward the Tropic of Capricorn because of the 23-and-a-half degree tilt of Earth’s axis. And when the direct rays of the sun at its zenith reach the Tropic of Capricorn, they will reverse themselves and start to move northward and dawn will become a little earlier each morning once again until the Earth is on the opposite side of its orbit and the direct rays of the sun at its zenith reach the Tropic of Cancer, when the whole 365-and-one-quarter-days cycle begins again.

I know too much astronomical trivia for my own good.

Anyway, as I was saying, I’ve been taking Jethro out around dawn and gazing up into the sky at a time when it isn’t night any more but it really isn’t day yet either. And do you know what I see?

Four lights.

The waning moon, the planet Venus, the dog star Sirius, and -- high overhead -- the planet Jupiter.

I know, to quote Carl Sagan, that there are “billions and billions” of stars out there, some of which, if I had ventured outdoors an hour earlier, I could have seen plainly. And even though they were all still there, I couldn’t see them at all. And had I waited another hour, even the four lights I did see would have been obscured in the light of old Sol.

You just know I’m going to make a Christian comment here.

Here goes:

In a universe where everything is changing constantly, where even rivers change in the length of time it takes to put your foot in, take it out, and put it in again, where one day Angelina Jolie is going to marry Brad Pitt and the next day she’s not, I’m so glad that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8) and that every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variation or shadow of turning (James 1:17).

Yes, I am.

(Image from stars.astro.illinois.edu/sow/oricma-p.html)