Following the stars

Given that the power grid is messed up, thus making it hard for everyone to follow their favorite stars on TV, I’ll nominate a show put on by the Mother Nature network. Playing now, on a patch of sky near you, is the Summer Triangle. The plot not only features a monster star, but also two separated lovers and a vengeful in-law.

Ah, the Summer Triangle. I mention it sometimes. This is one such time.

The Summer Triangle is formed by three bright stars. In descending order of brightness these are Vega, Altair, and Deneb. Vega is one of the brightest stars in the sky.

At 9pm tonight if you look due north from Saipan, and track your gaze up from the horizon by about 66 degrees, you’ll (a) get dizzy and fall on your butt, and (b) you’ll see Vega.

Easy? Well, yeah, but as a public service, I’ll note that you should put your beer down before performing this exercise.

I’ll also note that if you hold out your fist at arm’s length, like you’re holding out an ice cream cone, your fist covers 10 degrees of vertical arc. That’s nature’s own protractor, right there, built-in so well that we can’t forget it in our locker.

Unfortunately, the higher we get in the sky, the harder it is to describe anything. Altair is on a diagonal, up and to the right, from Vega by about three fists. Deneb is on a diagonal, down and to the right, from Vega by about two fists. This should do the trick, but, as a fallback, I’ll note that the Web is abundant with simple charts for the Summer Triangle.

The shiny band of the Milky Way galaxy runs right through the Summer Triangle. This provides a handy way to sort things out, at least if the skies are clear enough to show some detail. Vega is clearly on one side, and clear of, this band. Deneb is in the middle of the band. Altar stands on the edge of the band, opposite Vega’s side. The band is streaked with dark rifts.

One such rift brings us to the romantic drama in the Summer Triangle.

Aug. 20 marked this year’s Chinese “Seventh Eve” holiday, a rough equivalent of Valentine’s Day. If you’re wondering where that “seventh” comes from, it’s a hallmark of the Chinese lunar calendar, where the Seventh Eve falls on the seventh day of the seventh month.

Calendars might be different, but the stars are the same. The Chinese Seventh Eve’s legend heeds Vega and Altair, and, notably, the dark galactic rift between them. The stars represent a husband and wife who have been separated by a disapproving celestial mother-in-law (or, perhaps, grandmother-in-law; I’ve heard this legend several ways). Such are the risks of marrying an earth-borne maiden with a heavenly pedigree. Fortunately, the couple is said to get reunited on the Seventh Eve, thanks to birds that fly up to build a bridge over the rift.

Meanwhile, back on the islands, there is a book that covers some of the words used in Micronesia for various stars. I think that Altair is one such star. The book is The Lexicon of Proto-Oceanic: The Culture and Environment of Ancestral Oceanic Society. The physical environment. Volume 2. It came out in 2011, and the authors are Malcolm Ross, Andrew Pawley, and Meredith Osmond. I haven’t seen the book, only references to it, but it seems like an interesting topic.

Moving away from the equator to the higher northern latitudes, the Summer Triangle is regarded as a harbinger of the warm season and is recognized even by people who aren’t sky-nerds. I guess this sort of awareness is fading, though, since attention has shifted toward electronic screens and the great indoors.

Anyway, as you can see, the Summer Triangle has certainly earned its celebrity status.

Now, for enquiring minds, we can dish some gossip about these stars.

As for Vega, it appears so bright because it’s so close to Earth. It’s 25 light-years away, which, on the star-gazing scale, is just next door. In terms of appearance, Vega is pretty average.

Altair, for its part, is, like Vega, pretty much an average-looking next door neighbor at 17 light-years distance.

Meanwhile, although Deneb appears to us as the dullard of the trio, it’s really the superstar of the bunch. At 1,400 light-years away (depending on who you ask), it’s one of the most distant stars you’re likely to see. This vast distance dilutes the impact of its flame-thrower brightness—we’re talking 70,000 to 200,000 times brighter than the sun!

That’s because not only is Deneb 200 times the diameter of the sun, but it also burns far hotter at a toasty 15,000 degrees F. And you thought Saipan’s tourists get sunburned. Just imagine a weekend orbiting Club Deneb. You’d better pack your 7-billion SPF lotion and your ionized carbon Speedos.

Anyway, that’s the latest scoop on a favorite celestial celebrity. Hopefully this will provide some entertainment until the TVs come back on.