PERSEID METEOR SHOWER: Nearly every year I write about it. Today, August 11, 2024, I’ve cribbed from AWB blogs 28 and 42.

METEORS—NOT FALLING STARS

1983. I had given no thought to dark matter, black holes, galaxies on the move, but I was in the PNW, and I had been told to watch for it, this soundless sky show. I was not disappointed. Well into the wee hours I watched, captive to flying fire. Meteors. Perseid meteors.

Now, this very Sunday night, hotter than Alex Jones’ temper, iron-heavy meteors will run wild in the streets of our sky. Every August the sixteen-mile-long comet Swift-Tuttle claims for itself a galaxy neighborhood called Perseid Radiant. Earth barges into this elliptical territory where meteors—burning space rocks, clumps of dust and ice not much larger than three feet in diameter—cut their paths. But Earth knows where she’s going, and she’s got a plan.

“Come feel the warmth of my atmosphere,” says our spinning planet. And how they do! Those buffed-up but brainless bits of comet debris bullying the constellation of Perseus fall prey to the siren song of goddess Gaia. Nearly every August day 48.5 tons of comet particles are lured to Earth’s atmosphere; even more during meteor shower seasons. Like now. Up to 100 meteors an hour under ideal conditions. Who doesn’t love a siren’s song? Who doesn’t wish upon a falling star (even when it isn’t one)? Who doesn’t hope tonight’s sky will be clear enough for us see the spectacle?

Comets

Comets—the makers of meteors, are rock and ice plus gas, frozen leftovers from the formation of our solar system. Like cornbread crumbs dropped on a table. They can be as large as ten miles wide. Leftovers they may be, but when a comet orbits the sun, when its ice warms and gases evaporate (I think I have this right), it can spread a tail of dirty snowballs over millions of miles of space.

Swift-Tuttle (whose tail makes the Perseid meteors) takes 133 years to orbit the sun but will be visible again in 2025. Stay alert.

Comet debris falls. Meteors. Earth’s atmosphere captures the stuff and applies friction. Gaia pulverizes her victims. Vaporized, they are. The flameouts cross our sky at about 44 miles per second, so we watchers have one to three seconds to catch a glimpse.  

 Tonight, near midnight or later, look to the northeastern sky; just above the Perseus constellation which is just under the very familiar W-shaped Cassiopeia constellation. Then wait. Watch.

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