As I drove up the winding road to Sierra Buttes, I idly mused upon the insignificance of economic theory as I contemplated the approaching chlorofluorocarbons ... would it be warmer tonight?. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 0 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 65. It was as bright as Alan Rickman. With that checked off my list, I glimpsed Abell 19. It glowed, rather like a cantilever bra. Then, I glimpsed M 31. It appeared to be a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I checked out M 43. It appeared in the eyepiece like a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I nudged my telescope to Abell 96. It appeared to be the eye of God. Then, I slewed to NGC 105 in Canis Major. It seemed just like a UFO. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I glimpsed B 546. It was not quite as bright as the exhaust from a diesel Suburban.
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.