As I drove up the winding road to Fremont Peak State Park, I idly mused upon the cosmological implications of TAC as I contemplated the low fog. Would it rise, or not?. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 47 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 57 in Septans. It reminded me of a swarm of bees. Then, for a real challenge, I jumped to Abell 85. It appeared at low power like fleecy wool. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I looked at IC 1532. It looked uncannily like a hamburger. (Hmm, it had been a while since dinner). After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I tried for IC 2909. It sparkled like its Hubble photograph. Then, for a real challenge, I identified B 458 in Ursa Major. It looked exactly like blackness. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I hunted M 48. It appeared at low power like cotton on velvet. With that checked off my list, I located B 518. It seemed fainter than whispy tendrils of nebulosity. Next, I went for M 60. It looked like Miss Piggy.
After a short break to empty my output buffers, I logged B 478. It was like cream being swirled into hot coffee. Next, I nudged my telescope to M 62 in Cygnus. It sparkled like 60 grit carborundum on asphalt. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I went for M 8. It compared favorably with Demi Moore.
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 observing reports.