Occultations:
It was brought up by Rickey Bartlett that on the 17th of January there would be an occultation of a 9th mag. star by the asteroid Eunomia.   He asked for timings of this event in order to determine the shape and size of  the  inter-system  rock.    Ed. Note: It has come to my attention that as of this writing the path missed Arkansas after all,  however even negative  observations  are  still important and should be submitted to Rickey.

The mention of occultations reminds me of an event of lessor significance I had a few years ago, which  prompted me  to  write  the following editorial:

Twinkle, Twinkle ...

By John Reed

My main interest in amateur astronomy has always been deep sky observing: "that study of the fixed and changeless part of the celestial sphere" (a quote from Harry J.).  For that reason I  have always looked forward to observing from a truly dark location.   Several years ago, while  I  was  a  member  of  The Astronomical  Society  of  Northwest Arkansas,  I  attended  an  informal starparty.   It was held at a long time dark-sky observing site atop Fly-Gap Mountain, just off Highway 23,  the  "Pig-Trail".    We  began setting up equipment as the daylight waned toward gloaming.  I had my 10", my friend John Fitzgerald had his eight, and if memory serves, Elliot Neel brought his 12.5" dob.

It was a perfect evening.  The sky was a soft mauve in the west, blurring to deep indigo in the east. Several eastern stars pierced this deep  color  with  fiery  sparks  of light.   The crescent moon was an etched, white crescent in the eastern glow,  with a hint of purple-gray earth-shine rounding it out.  John was first to get his scope ready for "first light".  He centered it on the young moon and stated that a star was near the dark limb.

"I   think   it's   going  to occult!", he shouted.

I took a look and sure enough it was right on the edge of the earth-lit disk.   There was only a tiny isthmus of velvet black between. A beautiful composition. Elliot took his look, then John. While they were bent over the newtonian, I thought about what we were seeing.

When a star is occulted, we are actually in it's feeble shadow -- a darkness so subtle that it takes a telescope looking directly at the light source to even perceive it.  It reminded me, at least in concept, of pictures of the moon's shadow seen coming over the horizon at Hawaii. Or perhaps the brief darkness one experiences when an airplane passes over, the shadow flitting by in a transient subliminal dimming.

My turn came again to take a look,  John was admonishing me not to "hog" the eyepiece as the star was surely about to be covered.   As I looked, sure enough the star's airy disk actually seemed to overlap the moon's dark limb.  I knew it wouldn't be long now.

I hogged.

As  I  watched,  beating  my companions away from the telescope, I thought  about  that  shadow's  edge hurtling toward me at some fantastic velocity.  As the earth turned, the moon orbited, the dynamic geometry shifted. That airplane shadow was coming at a fantastic speed!  The star was now just a bump of brilliant light on the moon's curving horizon.  I was at the cusp of one of those rare moments an observer has when...

BLINK!

... there is a tiny change in that "changeless" firmament.  The sky was not quite the same,  and for that matter, neither was I.  I reveled in the marvelous difference.