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 the next column.
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 but 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 bumpiness 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. (Nevertheless, it may be good to return to this issue: can
the notion of "surface" be useful if not smooth on the scale of light wavelengths,
and if not so over areas bigger than the angular resolution of human vision?
And if an illumination model indispensibly entails angles relative to a
surface, can it be pertinent?)
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 several
reports from elsewhere that there was something to see. [LATER:
Sky and Telescope magazine, March 2002, shows videotape frames of one such
event on page 106.]
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?
[LATER: Astronomers tell
me we are in the middle of a thick patch, in that the Sun is about in the
galactic plane, and stars thin out exponentially away from that center
plane, with scale height about 1000 light years.]
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? [LATER: it is not really
a cutoff so much as an exponential thinning: see (2). This may well be
the main reason why we get about 3 times more stars per magnitude rather
than 4 times as expected under the assumption of uniform density.]
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. For example, a scrupulous investigator would realize that failure
to observe the expected 3/2 power relation might just subvert the whole
idea that stars are sun-like objects distributed in 3d space. If you thought
they were points of diverse brightness, all stuck on a relatively nearby
ceiling, you would not be at all surprised to find an arbitrary law of
abundances of the various brightnesses. In this view, there are no vast
spaces and if there were they would have to be air (spatial extension being
a property of matter, nothingness not existing in itself) so you could
not see more than 100 miles or so into them anyway. The Sun is unique in
heavens (of relatively modest extent), the stars are something else altogether,
and only a crazy person would suppose they are other suns clearly seen
while inconceivably remote, and only a charlatan would continue so even
after the expected 3/2 power law fails.
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 "good enough" becomes "better" if one of these
little kindlings serves to start a more substantial fire.
[Added LATER:
see 28
December column for specifics about "completely figured out"]
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. 