Author: Jamie Carter

I used to think being interested in the night sky meant I had to try every meteor shower. If a calendar said "peak," I interpreted that as an instruction. I'd set an alarm, find several layers of clothing and go outside at around 2:00 a.m. when even the neighborhood cats seemed surprised to see me. Then I'd spend an increasingly resentful 45 minutes staring upward, occasionally see one meteor and wonder whether I was somehow doing it all wrong. As I've grown into stargazing, I've become much more selective.

The Orionids peak next week, and normally I'd be tempted. These fast meteors come from debris from Halley's Comet, which is enough of a connection to make almost anyone want to go outside. However, another object is in the sky this year — a big, bright waxing gibbous moon that will brighten the night sky and make "shooting stars" very hard to see.

That doesn't make the Orionids unobservable. In fact, there is a narrow window when the night sky will be free from moonlight. But it does make me far less inclined to sacrifice an entire night for them, and I certainly won't be trying to spend the night camping under a dark sky in a remote rural location far from light pollution. I've discovered that knowing when not to observe is an underrated stargazing skill.

What's happening and when to look

The Orionids are active from Oct. 2 through Nov. 7, with their 2026 maximum expected overnight on Oct. 21-22. They appear to radiate from a point near Orion, although the meteors themselves can streak across almost any part of the sky.

The shower happens because Earth crosses a stream of debris left behind by Halley's Comet, which was last in the inner solar system in 1986 and will return in 2061. Those tiny particles hit our atmosphere at roughly 41 miles (66 kilometers) per second, making Orionids particularly fast meteors.

Under ideal conditions, the International Meteor Organization gives the shower a zenithal hourly rate of 20 or more around maximum. But "zenithal hourly rate" is not the same as promising that I will personally see 20 meteors while standing in my backyard for an hour. It assumes an excellent dark sky, a well-placed radiant and unobstructed viewing. In reality, that's impossible — at the very least you'd have to have eyes in the back of your head. And on each side.

This year adds another complication. The moon reaches first quarter on Oct. 18 and continues waxing toward full on Oct. 26. On the peak night of the Orionids, an 80%-illuminated waxing gibbous moon will be in the night sky as it gets dark on Oct. 21 and sets around 03:00 a.m. local time across Europe and North America on Oct. 22. You can probably see the workaround. Sunrise is roughly 06:30 a.m. local time, which means astronomical darkness — when the sun is more than 18 degrees below the horizon, meaning complete darkness — lasts until around 05:00 a.m. local time (these times work as a ballpark, but you can (check the exact times of moonset and sunrise for your location on Time and Date).

So there is a dark window before dawn, and that is when I would try to see the shower if I were determined to see it. The Orionid radiant is also much better placed after midnight than it is in the evening.

Knowing exactly what's going to happen in the sky turns a casual meteor watch into a rather more calculated exercise.

How and when I'm watching it

My plan for the Orionids this year is the same as usual — after checking the moon phase and the moonset and sunrise times, there's one more variable. The weather forecast first.

If the forecast is excellent and I'm feeling enthusiastic, I'll target the period after moonset and before morning twilight on Oct. 22. If it's due to be cloudy, I'm staying in bed.

This sounds obvious, but I think beginners are sometimes given the impression that successful stargazing requires heroic commitment. It doesn't. A meteor shower is not a performance that disappears the moment the advertised "peak" passes. The Orionids have a relatively broad period of activity, so meteors can appear on nights either side of maximum, too.

If I do go outside at 3:00 a.m., I'll do so without two hugely valuable resources for meteor showers — a lawn chair and bags of patience.

Stargazer's corner: October 16-22, 2026

The moon reaches first quarter on Oct. 18, making stargazing tricky this week. That means I'm changing what I observe rather than declaring the week a write-off. The moon itself becomes an excellent target in early evening around first quarter. Sunlight strikes the lunar landscape along the terminator — the boundary between lunar day and night — throwing mountains and crater rims into strong relief. A cheap pair of binoculars can reveal a surprising amount. With a telescope, you can spend hours getting lost in the Montes Apenninus mountain range and three nearby craters — Eratosthenes and Archimedes on either side, and Plato above. Saturn remains another easy evening target after its Oct. 4 opposition. Look toward the eastern and southeastern sky after dark for its steady yellowish light. Even a modest telescope pointed at Saturn's rings will astound.

Constellation of the week: Cassiopeia

Cassiopeia is one of the easiest constellations I know to find because its five main stars form a conspicuous W — or, right now, something that looks suspiciously more like an M. Look toward the northern sky in the evening. From mid-northern latitudes, Cassiopeia is high and prominent during autumn, on the opposite side of Polaris from the Big Dipper. That relationship is more useful to me than memorizing exactly which way the W should point. Cassiopeia circles Polaris as Earth rotates, so its orientation changes through the night. From sufficiently northerly locations, it's circumpolar, meaning it never sets below the horizon.

I know perfectly well that the moon comes out during the day. I have known this for decades. Yet whenever I spot it in a blue afternoon sky, some primitive part of my brain still thinks it has turned up early.

I'm certainly not the only one. Many people don't understand how it could be visible in daylight. In their eyes, the moon is a nighttime object. Why? Because that's when they notice it — it appears brighter.

We tend to think of the sun as belonging to the day and the moon to the night because that's how they're usually presented to us as children. Astronomically, it makes little sense. The moon spends plenty of time above our horizon while the sun is also up — it spends half its time in the daytime sky, in fact.

If the moon, pale but unmistakable, looks slightly out of place against a blue sky, it's not — you are. This week is a great time to get used to seeing it there. Just past first quarter, the moon will spend each afternoon hanging in the daytime sky, becoming easier to spot as the sun sinks towards the horizon.

What's happening and when to look

The moon reached first quarter on Sunday, Oct. 18, and is now waxing toward full moon, which occurs early on Monday, Oct. 26 (Oct. 25 in some time zones). That puts it in the right part of its orbit to be conspicuous during the late afternoon this weekend.

Here's the useful bit to remember. Around first quarter, the moon rises roughly around midday. As it waxes towards full, it rises progressively later in the afternoon. By full moon, it rises around sunset.

That makes the days immediately after first quarter an excellent time to get into the habit of finding the moon before sunset. On Monday, Oct. 19, look southeast in the afternoon for a moon just over half-lit. Each afternoon this week, it will become a little more illuminated, move farther east against the background stars, and appear progressively later in the day.

You don't need to wait until dusk. In fact, that's the point. Start looking during the afternoon, when the sun is still well above the horizon. Once you find the moon, it can be surprisingly conspicuous against the blue sky.

How and when I'm watching it

I'll start looking in the mid-to-late afternoon this week, when the waxing moon should already be high enough to find easily. You can check the exact moonrise time where you are, but there's no need to catch it as it rises. Look towards the east or southeast and scan the blue sky.

Once you've found the moon in daylight, keep checking on it as sunset approaches. The moon doesn't suddenly become brighter, of course. Instead, the surrounding sky darkens, increasing the contrast until the pale daytime moon seems to switch on at dusk and grow increasingly brilliant.

Binoculars will give you a superb view at dusk, particularly along the terminator — the boundary between lunar day and night. That's where low-angle sunlight throws mountains and crater rims into sharp relief. As the moon waxes this week, the terminator will move steadily across its surface, revealing a different landscape each afternoon.

That's another reason not to wait for the full moon. The full moon gets most of the attention, but the week beforehand is arguably a much better time to get to know our nearest celestial neighbor — and you don't even have to wait until dark.

Stargazer's corner: October 23-29, 2026

This is a bright-moon week. Full moon arrives early on Monday, Oct. 26, so moonlight will wash out faint stars and make galaxies and nebulas much harder to see. So go for Saturn instead. It reached opposition earlier this month and remains very well placed in the evening sky. Better still, the nearly full moon passes near Saturn around Oct. 23-24, giving beginners a convenient landmark for locating the planet. The moon's glare will hide faint nearby stars, but Saturn itself is easily bright enough to cope. A good example will be Oct. 27, when the Pleiades is passed closely by a bright moon. The Seven Sisters therefore won't be at their best, so you'll need to use binoculars — if you do, you'll see them easily enough.

Constellation of the week: Auriga

Auriga, "the Charioteer," is climbing in the northeastern and eastern sky during late October evenings. It's easiest to find if you start at Capella, one of the brightest stars in the entire night sky. It's just 43 light-years from the sun. From there, I look for the other stars that form Auriga's rough pentagon, including Menkalinan, Mahasim and Almaaz. The fifth corner is Elnath, although it officially belongs to neighboring Taurus.

Auriga gets even better with binoculars. The Milky Way runs straight through it, bringing with it three bright open star clusters — M36, M37 and M38. All three show up in binoculars under a reasonably dark sky, while a small telescope starts to resolve them into individual stars. There's always another layer to find in the night sky.

My latest stargazing obsession

There's something special about stargazing during the blue hour — that brief transition when daylight drains from the sky and night's window begins to open. It's particularly beautiful a few days before full moon, when the near-full orb is already rising in the east as the sun sets in the west. Look below it, and you may also see the Belt of Venus, a pinkish band above the eastern horizon caused by reddened sunlight shining through Earth's atmosphere, with our planet's dark blue-gray shadow beneath. As the sky fades through ever-deeper shades of blue, the moon brightens, and the first stars emerge around it.

I thought I knew Orion. Three stars in a row for the Belt, Betelgeuse above, Rigel below: it's one of the constellations I have long been able to identify with the least thought, along with Cassiopeia and the Plough/the Big Dipper.

But one fall evening long ago, when I was learning the night sky, I was looking at three bright stars rising in the east and spent an embarrassingly long time wondering whether they really were Orion's Belt. They were at the wrong angle. The rest of Orion followed them into the sky almost sideways, as though somebody had knocked the Hunter over.

What was happening? Nothing had gone wrong with Orion, of course. The problem was the picture of him in my head. Most constellation diagrams are printed in the orientation that makes them easiest to recognize. The sky makes no such promise. Watch Orion rise this month, and the familiar figure can look decidedly unfamiliar at first. Better still, stay outside long enough, and you can watch his orientation change as he rises on his side and swings into the southern sky upright as the night wears on.

Orion stopped being a picture and became evidence that the sky was doing something I didn't expect to see so easily in such a short time — it was moving, and strangely.

What's happening and when to look

In mid-October, you need to be patient to see Orion, but it's one of the best months to catch it rising on its side. From much of North America, look low toward the east shortly before midnight. Orion rises on its side, with the three Belt stars — Mintaka, Alnilam and Alnitak — rising one by one, preceded by Betelgeuse and Bellatrix, followed by brilliant Rigel.

Don't worry if you can't see the whole constellation immediately. Orion is enormous, and when it's close to the horizon, buildings, trees and atmospheric haze can easily hide parts of it. Waiting another hour can transform the view.

As Orion climbs higher, it appears to turn. The Belt changes angle, and the constellation gradually approaches the orientation many of us recognize from winter evenings. It reaches due south around sunrise, by which time the Belt is sloped, but the four corner stars — Betelgeuse and Bellatrix at the top and Rigel and Saiph at the bottom — form the easily recognizable rectangle enclosing it. Orion looks like Orion.

Orion isn't actually performing a slow roll in space. Earth is rotating beneath us, carrying our viewpoint eastward. Stars therefore appear to rise in the east, arc across the sky and eventually set in the west. It's how the night sky works, but it's an effect that's particularly easy to notice with Orion because its shape is so familiar. Instead of trying to understand celestial motion from a diagram, you can watch it happening.

How and when I'm watching it

I'm going to make this an astrophotography experiment rather than a conventional observing session. As soon as Orion's Belt appears just above the eastern horizon, I'm going to take a series of 30-second images — possibly using a DSLR, or perhaps a Seestar smart telescope — and then stack them to create what will effectively be a star trail image. However, instead of focusing on Polaris to show how the night sky revolves around the north polar axis, it will show Orion's Belt rising.

Stargazer's corner: October 9-15, 2026

The new moon falls on Oct. 10, making this an excellent week to get away from the brighter parts of the solar system and see what the autumn sky looks like without moonlight. In the predawn hours of Sunday, Oct. 11, get up 90 minutes before sunrise to see Mars moving through the dozens of stars in the Beehive Cluster. Binoculars will get you a great view.

As the week progresses, watch for the moon returning to the evening sky as a slender waxing crescent. On Oct. 13 it passes close to Mercury, and on Oct. 14, to Antares, the bright reddish star marking the heart of Scorpius. Look low toward the southwest around dusk for both sights.

Saturn remains exceptionally well placed. Having reached opposition on Oct. 4, it's now already above the eastern horizon as darkness settles and remains visible for much of the night. You don't need a telescope to identify it, but even a modest telescope will give you a terrific view of its rings, which are now opening out.

Constellation of the week: Andromeda

Once you've finished watching Orion climb, turn to a constellation that is much better placed as soon as it gets dark during October. Andromeda extends away from the northeastern corner of the Great Square of Pegasus. The slightly confusing part is that the star at that corner, Alpheratz, belongs to Andromeda rather than Pegasus. Constellation boundaries are less tidy than the drawings suggest.

You can't look at Andromeda without searching for the Andromeda galaxy, M31. Under a genuinely dark sky, you can see it with the unaided eye as a faint, fuzzy patch. From a brighter suburban location, binoculars make the job considerably easier. Don't expect the enormous spiral shown in long-exposure photographs. In binoculars or a small telescope, you'll catch the bright central region.

Some stargazing feels like you know exactly what you are looking for, but you're still slightly unsure whether you are actually seeing it. Zodiacal light — meaning "light from the circle of animals" — is often like that.

I have chased this so-called "false dawn" for years, and the first few minutes are always the same. I stare toward the horizon and wonder whether the sky is genuinely brighter there, or whether I am simply seeing distant light pollution, the first hint of morning twilight, or something my eyes have invented because I badly want to see it.

However, under a genuinely dark sky — and particularly in a long-exposure image — its cone shape becomes obvious.

Zodiacal light is enormous. It appears as a broad, softly glowing pyramid rising from the horizon. It can be fainter than the Milky Way and has no hard edges, which is precisely why it is so easy to overlook.

This week is a particularly good time to try because the new moon occurs on Sept. 10-11. With no moonlight interfering with the predawn sky, the main problems become familiar ones to any skywatcher: clouds, haze and artificial light.

The phenomenon itself could hardly be more epic. Zodiacal light is sunlight scattered by dust spread through the inner solar system, concentrated broadly around the plane in which the planets orbit. From Earth, we see that dusty structure edge-on along the ecliptic — the path through the sky followed by the sun, moon and planets. It's home, of course, to the 12 (actually 13) constellations of the zodiac — from Pisces the fish to Leo the lion. This is the circle of animals.

From the Northern Hemisphere around the September equinox, dust-hunting observers should look east before morning twilight, when the ecliptic rises steeply away from the horizon, and the faint glow becomes easier to separate from the murk below. It will reach about 30 to 40 degrees above the horizon.

Zodiacal light is the solar system itself made faintly visible — and one of the most subtle and strangest sky sights of all.

What's happening and when to look

For observers at mid-northern latitudes, September mornings offer one of the year's best windows for spotting the "false dawn" — but it's not easy to see. The essential ingredients are an unobstructed eastern horizon (preferably over the ocean or a large body of water) and no light pollution. You'll need to start looking before astronomical twilight begins rather than waiting until the sky is already visibly brightening, which means getting up very early in a very dark place.

Check the time astronomical twilight begins at your location and aim to be outside before then, giving your eyes at least 20 to 30 minutes to adapt to the darkness. The zodiacal light should appear as a broad triangular glow, widest and brightest close to the horizon and narrowing as it climbs.

It's easy to confuse it with a distant town, but artificial skyglow tends to form a rounded dome above one location on the horizon. In contrast, zodiacal light reaches diagonally — or almost vertically upward — along the ecliptic.

Give your eyes time and save up that one vital ingredient, a vanishing human trait any skywatcher must constantly nurture — patience. Zodiacal light is not something you can walk outside and instantly see. It comes only to those who work for it.

How and when I'm photographing it

A little like a faint aurora, a camera almost always detects zodiacal light before your eyes become completely convinced. The easiest way is to use a tripod and a wide-angle lens, preferably something around 14-24mm, compose with plenty of eastern sky and include a simple foreground to make the triangular shape obvious. A starting point of around f/2.8, ISO 1600, and an exposure of roughly 10-20 seconds usually puts you in useful territory, though sky brightness and lens speed change everything.

Shoot RAW, focus manually on a bright star and capture a series of images. Then, once you've photographed it, try to stop looking at the screen — the entire point is to see it with your own eyes.

Stargazer's corner: September 11-18, 2026

With a new moon on Sept. 10, this week sees a run of dark evenings before our natural satellite gradually returns. On Sept. 14, look shortly after sunset for a slender waxing crescent moon beside Venus, extremely low in the western twilight. By Sept. 16-17, the moon moves on towards Antares, a reddish star at the heart of Scorpius. Then Sept. 18 brings a first quarter moon (perfect for exploring with binoculars or a small telescope) and Venus at the greatest brilliancy of its current apparition as the "Evening Star."

Constellation of the week: Orion

Orion is normally thought of as a winter constellation, so September seems an odd time to go looking for it. However, if you're venturing out to an extremely dark place to look for zodiacal light, you're going to be staring Orion in the face. In September, the Hunter is in the eastern sky before dawn, where its stars sit along the same general strip of sky occupied by the zodiacal light. Its famous belt stars will be up, as will be bright Sirius, below. This is one of the pleasures of observing before sunrise. The sky is effectively showing you a preview of another season. The constellations climbing in the September dawn are the ones Earth will face during winter evenings a few months from now. Jupiter and Mars will also be visible — right on the ecliptic where you'll also — hopefully — spy the "false dawn".

An extraordinary exploding star has been spotted in a distant galaxy, and astrophotographers are racing to capture it before it fades from view.

The supernova, called SN 2026aaiv, was first seen by the ATLAS survey on Sept. 1 in NGC 7331 (also known as Caldwell 30), a spiral galaxy about 45 million light-years away in the constellation Pegasus, visible in the Northern Hemisphere and at mid-latitudes in the Southern Hemisphere.

That makes this supernova a prime target for amateur astrophotographers and astronomers worldwide to capture an image of this rare event.

Hundreds of astrophotographers have already captured it, including Andrew McCarthy, who posted his image on Instagram on Sept. 7 with the message, "As luck would have it, I happened to be in the middle of a massive project with this galaxy, and caught the supernova." He shot four hours of data, two before and two after the supernova, as part of a 100-hour project. "The final image will be EPIC!" he said.

Tom Masterson, Mountain Operations Manager at the Mount Wilson Observatory, also captured it on Sept. 10 using a 60-inch telescope.

What you'll need to find SN 2026aaiv

At magnitude 15.7 on Sept. 11, 2026, SN 2026aaiv is relatively dim, but still brightening. Many of the images posted online were captured with large professional telescopes or remote telescopes in dark regions. However, you can find and photograph SN 2026aaiv with relatively modest equipment. You'll need a telescope or large binoculars to see NGC 7331 (at magnitude 10) at all, but the supernova is dramatically more challenging visually. To have a chance of seeing SN 2026aaiv, a large telescope is recommended (observers have confirmed seeing it using a 14-inch Schmidt-Cassegrain telescope). Use the averted vision technique: look slightly to the side of the galaxy's core so the eye's more light-sensitive rod cells can reveal faint detail.

The easiest way is to use a smart telescope, which can quickly find and image the host galaxy NGC 7331. According to Seestar (Official ZWO Group) on Facebook, users of the Seestar S50 have managed to image the SN 2026aaiv with about two hours of 10-second exposures (the default mode).

How to find SN 2026aaiv

SN 2026aaiv has the coordinates RA 22h 37m 05.618s, Dec +34° 24′ 35.37″. From the Northern Hemisphere, turn toward the east after dark, and you'll see four large, bright stars rising in a vast diamond shape. This is the Great Square of Pegasus, part of the constellation Pegasus. At the northwestern corner of the Great Square is Scheat. Just above it, outside the square, is a dimmer star called Matar. NGC 7331 is close by. In light-polluted skies, only the central core of the galaxy is visible, according to NASA. The galaxy, which we see partially edge-on, has spectacular spiral arms that swirl around a bright central region.

What we know about SN 2026aaiv

SN 2026aaiv is a Type Ia supernova, a catastrophic explosion that occurs when a white dwarf in a binary star system gains enough material from its companion to trigger a runaway thermonuclear reaction, destroying the white dwarf. Remarkably, another Type Ia supernova, SN 2025rbs, was found in the same galaxy on July 14, 2025.

NGC 7331, imaged by the Hubble Space Telescope in 2018, was first found in 1784 by British astronomer William Herschel, who cataloged over 2,500 deep-sky objects and discovered Uranus and its two largest moons. NGC 7331 is similar in size, shape and mass to the Milky Way.

Venus is something of a frustration for stargazers. It's the brightest planet and the easiest to see, while the sight of it close to a crescent moon is one of the most achingly beautiful sights in the sky. Yet it gives almost nothing away.

Mars has its reddish color. Saturn rewards even a small telescope with its spectacular rings. Jupiter has moons, belts and an obvious disk. Venus, meanwhile, spends months blazing away in twilight looking exactly like what people who do not stargaze assume a star should look like — a brilliant white point. What we're seeing is sunlight reflected by its global cloud cover, which in turn makes it impossible to see in any detail.

But every now and then, it does something revealing by becoming a crescent. That is when Venus, an inner planet relative to Earth, finally makes sense.

Put a small telescope on Venus this week and its appearance is completely different from the dazzling dot seen with the naked eye. This week, its disk will dim from 36% to 32% lit as it shrinks toward a thinner crescent as September progresses. At the same time, its apparent disk is getting larger because Venus is moving closer to Earth.

Those two changes are connected. Venus reached its greatest eastern elongation, about 46 degrees from the sun, on Aug. 15. It's now swinging around the inside of its smaller, faster orbit of the sun towards inferior conjunction on Oct. 24, when it will pass roughly between Earth and the sun, and be lost in the sun's glare. Before that, it will reach its peak — greatest brilliancy — in the evening sky on Sept. 18, shining at magnitude -4.8 while just 26% lit. That's the sweet spot, when its increasing angular size and decreasing crescent combine at their brightest, as seen from Earth (though its modeled visual brightness peaks a few days later, around Sept.22). After that, it becomes an increasingly dim crescent.

Seeing Venus as a crescent makes the geometry beautifully obvious. We are no longer looking across the solar system towards the brightly illuminated side of Venus. We are increasingly looking at the planet from behind, towards its night side, with sunlight catching only one edge.

It is almost the same idea as a crescent moon — except Venus is another world tens of millions of miles away. As it passes roughly between Earth and the sun on Oct. 24, it will be 0.27 AU away — equivalent to 25 million miles (40 million kilometers). At its farthest, Venus can be 162 million miles (261 million kilometers) from Earth.

The phases of Venus were historically important. When Galileo observed Venus through a telescope in the early 17th century, seeing it display a broad range of phases helped demolish the traditional Ptolemaic model in which Venus was supposed to orbit Earth in a way that could not produce the full sequence he observed.

Four centuries later, the same observation remains one of the simplest ways to understand our place in the solar system.

Venus becomes far more interesting when it stops looking its best through the naked eye and instead becomes a "wow" moment in a small telescope. As the "Evening Star" sinks lower into twilight, we're not just seeing a crescent — we're seeing a planet orbit the sun.

What's happening and when to look

Venus remains an evening object throughout September, but it is rapidly becoming more challenging from mid-northern latitudes. Look very low towards the west-southwest shortly after sunset, where it should be obvious because practically nothing else in the twilight comes close to its brilliance.

Do not search for Venus with a telescope or binoculars while the sun is still above the horizon. Wait until sunset and make sure the sun has disappeared before pointing optical equipment anywhere near the western sky.

Venus will move through Virgo during the coming days before a particularly attractive conjunction on Sept. 14, when a 16%-lit waxing crescent moon will pass extremely close to a 29%-lit Venus. Two crescents together.

How and when I'm watching it

Venus is one of those objects I prefer to revisit several times rather than observe once. A single look shows a crescent, but observing every week reveals movement.

I'll mostly use my small spotting scope in the front yard to look at Venus as a crescent this month, but if I'm short on time, I'll use some 10x50 binoculars, which can also reveal the phase. The trick is not to expect surface detail — just a clean geometric shape.

Atmospheric turbulence near the horizon can make Venus wobble and shimmer, but its phase usually cuts through.

Stargazer's corner: Sept. 4–10, 2026

With the moon now past last quarter, the early evening sky is finally free from bright moonlight. It's an excellent opportunity to revisit the Milky Way, along with star clusters, nebulas and other deep-sky objects before autumn gradually takes over and its bright center slumps into the horizon. Before dawn, the waning crescent moon moves through Taurus, passing close to Mars on Sept. 6 in Gemini, while brilliant Venus continues to dominate the western twilight after sunset. The dazzling planet remains the unmistakable evening beacon, shining low above the west shortly after sunset. Saturn, meanwhile, continues to brighten in the east during the late evening, making this an increasingly good time to point binoculars or, better still, a small telescope toward the ringed planet.

Constellation of the week: Pisces

Pisces is easy to overlook. Its faint stars form two celestial fish joined by a long cord, creating a broad V-shape beneath the easy-to-find Great Square of Pegasus in the eastern evening sky after dark this month.

This week is a great time to find it because Neptune soon reaches opposition within Pisces, making the distant planet brighter than at any other time this year. Although Neptune needs binoculars or a telescope to spot it, learning the constellation

Pisces has been associated with mythology and water for thousands of years, but finding its subtle pattern also signals that the autumn constellations are beginning to take over the night sky.