As I drove up the winding road to Mount Tamalpais, I idly mused upon the deep impact of the energy crisis as I contemplated the threat posed by global warming. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 6 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 22. It was as bright as that graph in An Unpleasant Truth. Then, for a real challenge, I hunted B 426. It looked uncannily like a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. After that, I studied NGC 390. It looked a bit like cotton candy. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I accidentally located IC 2120. It seemed almost the face of God. Then, for a real challenge, I logged NGC 2601. It was better than a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. With that checked off my list, I nudged my telescope to B 504 in Serpens. It seemed most like blackness. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I checked off NGC 5630. It seemed fainter than the pillars of creation.
After a short break to empty my output buffers, I found by accident M 15. It sparkled like a whale spouting.
After a short break to munch cheesy poofs, I found Abell 43 in that confusing part of Virgo. It took me back to the first time I saw Krylon Ultra-Flat Black. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I sought NGC 5077 in Canis Major. It appeared in the eyepiece like nothing I'd ever seen before. Next, I went for IC 60 in Gemini. It seemed fainter than a far-away cloud. Next, I added to my logbook M 92. It glowed, rather like Miss Piggy. With that checked off my list, I stumbled upon NGC 5758. It took me back to the first time I saw a glimmer of the Big Bang.
Finally, it was time to pack up and leave. As I drove home, I contemplated the events of the night, and realized that any night out under the sky with good friends is better than reading Beowulf in Old English.