As I drove up the winding road to another winding road only known to those from my support group, I idly mused upon the current implications of this Pale Blue Dot we call home as I contemplated the past week of rain. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 26 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 106. It reminded me of lumpy darkness. Then, for a real challenge, I glimpsed IC 1280. It seemed fainter than two scoops of spumoni ice cream.
After a short break to listen to Mozart, I checked off M 13. It was a dead ringer for a UFO. Then, for a real challenge, I went for Abell 23. It seemed almost the clouds I'd seen earlier.
After a short break to do some yoga, I went for IC 339. It looked a bit like a smoke ring. Then, for a real challenge, I hunted for IC 1459 in Septans. It would be easy to confuse with smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. Then, for a real challenge, I hunted B 216. It was a blurry likeness of one of Martha Stewart's doilies.
After a short break to listen to the coyote symphony in the distance, I stumbled upon Abell 37. It was as bright as a glimmer of the Big Bang. Then, for a real challenge, I slewed to B 474 in a group of stars that looked like an armadillo. It looked like the invisible man. After that, I sought Abell 38 in Cygnus. It was easy, just like cotton candy. Next, I added to my logbook M 2. It was better than dancing elephants. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I added to my logbook NGC 3583. It looked like desert sand. Next, I checked out Abell 93 in Pisces Austrinus. It seemed almost a cantilever bra.
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 spending the evening reading blogs.