'Super moon' and all the math that goes with it

To the left, the moon on Sept. 23, 2010, is 778 pixels wide (cropped from a 12-megapixel image). To the right, the moon on March 19, 2011, is 879 pixels wide. That indicates a 12.982 percent size difference -- close enough to NASA's estimate that the full moon Saturday would appear 14 percent larger than it typically does.

On Saturday, March 19, the full moon was at its closest approach to Earth since 1993, making it appear 14 percent bigger and 30 percent brighter than usual, according to NASA. This "super moon" was at its perigee -- the point in its oval orbit that is nearest to our planet.

The two above photographs show the size difference.

The size change wasn't necessarily noticeable to the naked eye because there was no great measuring tape in the sky. But the brightness was obvious as I was snapping photographs next to the Indian River in Rockledge.

For the side-by-side comparison at the top of this post, I used similar settings for each photograph -- except for the shutter speed. For the smaller moon, I used 1/1,600 of a second. For the bigger and henceforth brighter moon, I used 1/2,500 of a second.

That works out to a 36 percent exposure difference. While it's certainly not a scientific measurement, it's close to NASA's estimate of a 30 percent brightness increase.

When viewing celestial objects as they rise or set, you're looking through an extensive cross-section of Earth's atmosphere. That creates a magnifying effect, making the moon or the sun seem even larger. That's why the moon looks abnormally large in this photo, snapped with Merritt Island in the foreground.

After it cleared the trees.

I started using less magnification on my lens to get a wider view of the surroundings, including this sailboat moored in the Indian River.

I was technically on private property here, where I pulled over to the side of Rockledge Drive, a narrow and winding route that parallels the Indian River.

This roadway, which I enjoy for motorcycle riding, is lined by nice homes with piers or docks into the Indian River. I had never photographed anything along the route, so I figured it would be a super place to view this full moon.

This longer exposure brings out the blues in the sky. The moon rose at 7:48 p.m. here, 14 minutes after sunset.

The (almost and post) harvest moon, its friend and the autumnal equinox

Early Thursday morning, the moon was 99 percent full, with a sliver missing from the left side. Later in the day, it would rise as a full moon, the first of the autumn season. That's called the harvest moon. I took shots of it before (Thursday morning) and after (Saturday morning) it was full.

Early Saturday morning, a halo in the high, icy cirrus clouds indicated colder air over Florida. I see this phenomenon more often in the wintertime.

The best time to shoot a full moon is when it rises, around sunset. There's enough lighting left from the sun to illuminate surrounding things, such as clouds or buildings. I didn't have that advantage early Thursday morning. The subjects surrounding the moon always were poorly lit. This above shot is the only one that shows some clouds floating by, but with the moon properly exposed.

A sprinkle of magic and a hint of what's to come dangled in the heavens this week.

But it's not really all that magical. It's actually quite natural, and it happens from time to time.

This beauty is difficult to express. Most let it pass without pause. But I keep my eyes peeled for subtle gems, no matter how unappreciated by the rest. Only people who prefer the little things can truly enjoy this.

Outside my apartment early Thursday, an orange cat molested a palm tree by sharpening its forepaws on the trunk. Annoyed, I shot it. Then, crouching beside the arid carcass of a holly bush, I also photographed Jupiter and the moon as the celestial pair perused the sky together and watched clouds barrel off the ocean.

If the view was so good down here, I can't imagine what theirs was like.

It had been a while since I last photographed the night sky. I attempted a shot of the Milky Way Galaxy this summer. But in that instance, my camera was handheld. And the photos were grainy, blurry and totally unsatisfactory.

But Thursday morning, I dug out my rusty remote control and a seldom-used tripod. I wished to do it right. Or at least to try.

The moon wasn't fully matured -- only a 99 percent waxing gibbous. But later in the day, all of it rose at sunset -- an instance of splendor I missed because of work. And when I shot it again Saturday morning, the moon was a 98 percent waning gibbous.

No worries, though. Truth is, celestial phenomena were difficult to miss this week. Each night, the moon has been drawn to Jupiter, which was closer to Earth than it had been all year. It's an attraction that's especially appreciated at the dawn of a new season: The conjunction accentuates the harvest moon, the first full one of autumn. The moon was at its fullest a mere six hours after it officially became the fall.

And the fall season is the best season. I can't wait. Red maple leaves, candy corn, plastic jack-o'-lanterns, pumpkin whoopie pies, apple cider, mulled wine, stuffing. I'm even drinking hot coffee again.

And a snowflake? That's a prize this Floridian can only dream of.

I've been told that it's artsy to cut off your subject's head. So that's why I included only the bottom portion of the halo in this shot. ... Actually, that's not why. I was using an 18mm lens, which couldn't fit the entire halo.

For the halo shots in this post, I hung out near the employee entrance at Florida Today, using a palm tree for foreground.

Here's a behind-the-scenes look: Night photography of the sky in locations with lots of ambient light is difficult to pull off. Before I discovered a solution, many of my shots included horrific lens refraction and ghosts because of all the lamppost light hitting the camera. To solve that, I pulled out my golf umbrella -- which, ironically, I've never used for golf or rain -- and blocked the offending light during each exposure.

Thursday morning was mostly clear, but some clouds moved swiftly off the Atlantic Ocean and under the moon and Jupiter, which had rendezvoused with Earth's natural satellite all week.

A cat was clawing at the base of this palm tree while I was shooting. I subtracted one of its nine lives. This was a longer exposure that completely blurred the clouds, a desired effect.

When moonlight shines through moisture-rich clouds, iridescence often results. Even in the black night, color can be seen in the sky.

The clouds cleared Thursday, and I cleared out.

My Harley, my iPhone and the full moon

The Harley-Davidson and I ventured out for a moonlight ride Sunday evening, leaving the sissy bar and its cargo capabilities behind. I toured most of Brevard County, which didn't take long because I was averaging 90 mph. But I felt naked without my camera, a condition I regretted when the sun went down and I was equipped only with a cell phone camera. As our star dipped below the western horizon, our satellite rose in the east. Two phenomenons collided, though, as anticrepuscular rays (sunlight that appears to be emanating from the eastern sky at sunset) seemed to be shining from the full moon.

My mode of transportation is pictured along Pineapple Avenue in northern Melbourne, a roadway that parallels the Indian River.

Night exposures with an iPhone aren't easy -- and aren't that pretty either. This was one of about 10 shots I took of a stand of sea oats as they blew in the breeze along Cocoa Beach. It's so grainy that it almost looks like a bad painting.

Another of the moon near the Eau Gallie Causeway in Melbourne. And to address the reason why I haven't been taking thunderstorm photos this summer, read this.

Year's biggest moon and the passing clouds

Purchase a print | Friday night's full moon appeared to be the biggest and brightest of any in 2010. Earth's natural satellite was at its perigee, or closest approach to Earth. After getting home from work, I photographed the moon when it was high in the night sky. The shutter for the above shot was open for 2 minutes and 36 seconds, so the clouds appear streaky underneath a halo-encircled moon.

Purchase a print | These altocumulous clouds quickly approached from the west and built into a thick layer in the short time I was outside. This mackerel sky foreshadowed a cold front and stormy weather to come Saturday.

The clouds eventually became thick, dark and eerie, effectively hindering my view of the moon.

Always ready to fire: Sunset-moon interaction is gone in 60 seconds

When there are large clouds on the horizon for a sunset, there frequently are these rays of sunlight that shine upward. On Tuesday night, the scene especially struck me when I saw the brightening crescent moon that seemed to be the target of those rays.

For aspiring photographers, the foremost thing I would recommend is to always have a camera on hand. I'm widely known among friends for having a backpack full of equipment by my side or in my car at work, while grocery shopping, even while swimming. I like shooting weather, and that - despite meteorologists' attempts - is utterly unpredictable, especially in Central Florida. If any disaster - natural or man-made - happens close by, I would be ready. Many of the photos on this blog are the result of being prepared for the unexpected. Considerably fewer are results of purposely photographic ventures.

One of my favorite professional photographers - other than my father, of course - is Chase Jarvis, who has completed some cool field-testing work for Nikon's D90 and is doing some now for Sandisk, a maker of media cards for digital cameras. When he doesn't have his high-powered Nikons and Hasselblads on him, though, Jarvis carries an iPhone, with which he has taken some uniquely beautiful, creative images. That inspired a book, a Web site and an iPhone application dedicated to photography with Apple's popular device. The site, which was launched today, is here.

Until I get my first iPhone, I'm sticking with a large camera bag holding two cameras - my D40 and D90 - along with various lenses, accessories and tripods. It again paid dividends Tuesday night when I was running errands. While I was heading home on U.S. 1, the setting sun's rays shot upward at an angle toward a crescent moon. Knowing it wouldn't last along the Indian River, I pulled onto Pineda Causeway, which leads to the beachside communities, and then to the side of the road as soon as I had the room to do so. Less than a minute after setting up my tripod next to the vehicles whizzing by, the scene had faded entirely. The shot is nothing spectacular, but still, it was good that I was prepared.

Florida Keys Day 1, Part 2 | Spending too much time with marvels along the way

The streak in the lower left portion of this image is actually a bird that was flying around in view of the camera, as I was photographing Interstate 75's Sunshine Skyway Bridge over Tampa Bay.

I've been taking an unexpected amount of time getting to the Florida Keys for vacation, mainly because there have been too many distractions along the way.

When I embarked on this journey from Melbourne to St. Petersburg, then to the Keys, I was worried that I wouldn't find enough things to photograph. Ironically, the truth has been the opposite: So many photo ops presented themselves Friday that I likely will fall far behind in my editing. Just to hint at what I saw: Heavy thunderstorms criss-crossed my path as I traveled along Interstate 75 through the Big Cypress National Preserve, a route also known as Alligator Alley. And when I finally made it to Key Largo, the excitement didn't stop. And when I arrived in Islamorada, where I would spend the night, the excitement continued.

The photos in this post, however, come from Thursday night, after I watched the Red Sox win their series against the Rays. As I approached the Sunshine Skyway Bridge over Tampa Bay, I couldn't help but to exit Interstate 275 in hopes that a view from a nearby fishing pier would offer some interesting photos. At the gate to the pier, the attendant said fishermen usually have to pay an entrance fee, but since I was just a photographer, he let me in for free - "as long as you're quick," he said.

An hour later, I came back through the gate with these photos on my camera. The effect of the cloud cover created a halo around the full moon, as the lights from the bridge shot upward, illuminating a low deck of clouds.

Clouds get in on the action. The bird again makes an appearance in this photo, along with a stream of scum in Tampa Bay, illuminated by lights from the fishing pier.

In this close-up, the lights from the Sunshine Sky Bridge cast rays into the humid midnight air.

40 years ago today, man landed on the moon

I photographed the moon a couple of weeks ago when it was just past full.

The 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing has kept journalists in Central Florida, especially on the Space Coast, very busy for the past several months. FLORIDA TODAY, my employer, has put together a Web site containing historic photographs and every single newspaper from 1969. The folks at Footnote.com worked diligently to digitize old microfilm versions. Check that out, and more, at floridatoday.com/moonlanding. We also have TV specials with our partner, WBCC, that are now available online here.

Also of note is this site http: WeChooseTheMoon.com. It's broadcasting the Apollo 11 mission in real time, as it happened. After the landing today, viewers will be able to consume the content at their leisure.

Much has been said about re-energizing the U.S. space program and restoring its glory to that of the space-race days. It's difficult to envision it being that heightened. The prizes now, including Mars, are considerably more risky, especially as NASA is without a reliable vehicle to take astronauts there. And the other objective, to return to the moon, already has been done. Not to mention that our fiercest competitor then is now our bigger partner.

But with the advance of science, there is no doubt that our country can gain something from such a mission to the moon. Just being able to see the high-quality photos snapped and transmitted quickly from the moon to Earth would be thrilling and certainly a sight to see.

And if nothing else, Brevard County itself needs something to be excited about again. Because, well, this place is just too darn boring.

Getting high on shooting things that are high? Huh, dream on

Some clouds pass in front of the moon, with Jupiter, seen off to the right, in the clear.

The hobby I seem to be interested in right now, photography, has grown out of my job as a journalist. I started using digital SLRs during a class at American University that taught handling skills for such "high-tech" equipment as high-speed still cameras, high-definition video cameras and high-fidelity sound recorders.

There are many times in my job that I see an image in the newspaper or on the photo wire that simply inspires me, even excites me. That happened this week when I saw amateur astrophotographer Thierry Legault's image of shuttle Atlantis and the Hubble Space Telescope in what's called "solar transit." In other words, they were silhouetted against the sun in a first-ever image captured from the ground. Legault has asked people to respect his copyright on the photos, so I'll just include a link to his site, which contains high-resolution versions. Check them out.

Legault, a French engineer, photographed Atlantis on Tuesday, a day after I shot the spaceship as it launched from Kennedy Space Center. The telescopic images were captured in Daytona Beach, which makes me wonder if he watched the liftoff from the Space Coast.

Like I said, the images inspired me, but I can only dream of such brilliant captures. It takes both expensive camera and telescope equipment, not to mention astronomical knowledge, to achieve such a feet. Instead, I used my new camera to again shoot the moon, this time partially shrouded in clouds and getting cozy with Jupiter.

The angle at which I have to point my camera to shoot the natural satellite is not steep just after moonrise. Later in the night or morning, it can get quite high in the sky. That's when a good tripod comes in handy.

I tested my new Manfrotto Pro 055XPROB tripod early this morning by pointing it toward Polaris (left), the widely known star that happens to be quite high in the sky. I discovered that, when the lens is mounted in reverse, the tripod can be angled to almost 90 degrees (in accordance to the ground), allowing the lens to be pointed straight up. It was still stable, but the lens tended to zoom out without a touch, a phenomenon known as "lens creep" (sounds like a name I've been called while taking photos of little children). But hey, that's what gravity will do to you.

The resulting image of Polaris isn't much, of course. But I'll always have my dreams of something better.

Moons are half off today. Too see a high-resolution image, click on the above one.

The moon rises as I drive home to set

The moon also rises, with a little glow effect. The camera's ISO setting was 800.

Tonight's moonrise through low-level cloud cover was sort of interesting. Like a co-worker who also photographed the moon very early Thursday morning said, this is a benefit of the late shift. Not many people are commuting home at midnight during such a spectacle.

Unfortunately, there aren't many more advantages of working late. I woke up incredibly early Wednesday morning to attempt to buy a ticket to watch the June 13 launch of shuttle Endeavour at Kennedy Space Center. The ticket was in my online shopping cart. I typed in my credit card information, but when I finalized the order, the tickets had been sold out.

So, I subjected myself to a day running on little sleep for pretty much nothing. The consolation prize at the end of the day was the moon.

I'd rather have the sun.

The no-shuttle-launch blues

The moon, after rising over the Atlantic off Cocoa Beach on a night that was supposed to feature a shuttle launch. There's a man smoking a cigarette - or something - at the end of the walkway. I saw 99 percent of the moon and 0 percent of the shuttle.

I'm really not in the mood for words right now. I get enough of them at work. And today? Well, it's a furlough day, or unpaid leave, or a pay cut. And today, I'm not supposed to have anything to do with work.

That's why a shuttle launch would have been a good thing to keep my mind of words, those things that define my existence. It was supposed to be a visual spectacular. I readied my digital SLR, my film camera and my high-definition video camera. I was even poised to buy a third tripod for the 9:20 p.m. launch.

But no. NASA couldn't properly fuel the external tank for shuttle Discovery. A valve sprang a leak 20 minutes before the tank was full. I got word - via text message, from co-workers - that the launch had been scrubbed, just before I was about to leave for a front-row seat in Titusville.

The mission's start was delayed until at least Sunday, when it'll lift off - if all goes well - at 7:43 p.m., which is 12 minutes after sunset. At that time, the conditions won't be dark enough for a timed exposure, which bummed me out. It was to be my second try at a nighttime shot of a shuttle, the first being exactly one year ago when I failed miserably trying to capture Atlantis on March 11, 2008.

Discovery's streaking arch in a timed exposure could have been either ruined or made more interesting by a nearly full moon. I took my camera out to the beach, despite there being no launch, and watched the reddish satellite rise over the Atlantic Ocean. The photos of its rise were miserable, but I snapped a few after it had been hanging in the air for a while. They were still bad, but not quite as bad.

As for Discovery, NASA wants to shoot it up Sunday, allowing for the fullest mission as possible. But I don't have Sunday off from work. How do I describe that? There are no words.

Shootin' | The closest we've been to the moon in 15 years

Taken with my 200mm lens.

Unfortunately, I didn't hear about this occasion until it was too late, but the follow-up was quite spectacular nonetheless.

Friday's full moon, the last of the year 2008, was the closest the satellite has been to Earth in 15 years. And it won't get closer until 2016.

I noticed something was out of the ordinary when I peaked outside my window Friday night. I heard something, and light was bursting through the seems around the curtain. A spaceship was landing, I dreamed. It was probably the brightest I had ever seen it during night.

Of course, I didn't know what was causing the daylight night until I looked into it more.

Saturday's moon wasn't full, as you can see in these photos. But the fast-moving cloud cover made the moon a giant disco ball and the earth a giant dance floor.

Photographing the moon was challenging because it was practically directly above, an impossible angle for my tripod. So, many of these are taken sans stabilization.

This exposure was made while zooming the lens.

The clouds created interesting hues of red and blue.

A wider shot of the moon shining through the dense cover.

In Maine: Clear skies make moon more spectacular

Shot with the Nikon on a tripod, of course, with only a 0.05-second exposure.

Living close to Cape Canaveral can make anyone appreciate space. The launches of shuttles and rockets truly are sights to behold.

But for me, nothing is more spectacular than clear skies and no artificial light to block my view of the heavens.

I just jumped outside a few minutes ago to shoot the orange-tinged moon over Grand Falls Flowage, the body of water that borders my parents' property on three sides (yes, it's a peninsula on the lake).

Some day, folks will lift off on a Constellation mission, and we'll soon be roving through the craters of the lunar surface once again.

But for now, it's great to gaze at the moon's beauty from afar - and from Maine.

Moon, river ... I'll catch you in a perfect pose some day

For some reason, I was a bit confused as to how a certain feature on my Nikon D40 worked. My father straightened me out. It's an embarrassingly simple function that's not unique to digital SLRs, so I'll stop short of divulging the exact nature of my ignorance.

But I got past it, and I'm looking for new things to photograph. It's Florida, and I know there are animals, waves and probably a few insects to shoot here, so I need to get out and explore. Somehow, I must muster the ambition.

A few nights ago, I was driving home along the Indian River in Palm Shores ("the little town that cares") when I noticed the strange reddish hue of the moon shrouded in mist and low-level clouds. Coincidentally, there was leftover lightning in the air after a strong storm ripped through the area. My objective was to get the moon and the lightning in one shot. And it wasn't raining, limiting the danger to my camera.

Unfortunately, the lightning stopped when I got my tripod set. But I saw a neat boathouse on the river that I thought would look good in a photo. But not that night: The moon went behind the clouds before I had a chance.

I returned to the spot last night and took this 3-second exposure. No lightning, no reddish hues, but oh well.

I can't have everything.