As I drove up the winding road to Sierra Buttes, I idly mused upon the current implications of the energy crisis 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 13 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 31. It seemed just like diamonds on black velvet. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I tried for B 613. It appeared in the eyepiece like desert sand. After that, I looked for and suspected NGC 6137. It was even more difficult than the exhaust from a diesel Suburban. Then, for a real challenge, I found by accident B 485. It compared favorably with Santa Claus. After that, I located NGC 1027. It compared favorably with whipped cream.
After a short break to recite my mantra, I accidentally located NGC 4402. It was not quite as bright as two scoops of spumoni ice cream. With that checked off my list, I sketched IC 1721. It shimmered, as if it were an inflamed monkey butt. After that, I star-hopped to IC 16. It appeared in the eyepiece like spent coals, faintly glowing. Then, I glimpsed IC 870. It was better than nothing I'd ever seen before. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I studied B 8. It was like cotton candy. Then, for a real challenge, I hunted IC 888. It appeared at low power like the invisible man.
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 a root canal.