Los Angeles is where the night sky went to die. Ten million people worth of sodium glow means a kid can grow up here and never once see the Milky Way, and the strange consequence is that an actual telescope pointed at an actual planet lands much harder on an Angeleno than it would on somebody from a dark county.
So volunteers haul their own instruments up the hill and set them on the lawn, dozens of them, and let strangers look. The people running them are amateurs in the old sense — the Astronomical Society, the Sidewalk Astronomers, the Planetary Society — and they have been doing this for decades, which means the person adjusting the focus for you has explained Saturn's rings to roughly nine thousand people and has not got tired of the moment when it lands. Come early and the same telescopes are pointed at the sun.
Two in the afternoon until a quarter to ten, free, up on the south lawn. Nobody forgets the first time they see the rings with their own eye.
Los Angeles is where the night sky went to die. Ten million people worth of sodium glow means a kid can grow up here and never once see the Milky Way, and the strange consequence is that an actual telescope pointed at an actual planet lands much harder on an Angeleno than it would on somebody from a dark county.
So volunteers haul their own instruments up the hill and set them on the lawn, dozens of them, and let strangers look. The people running them are amateurs in the old sense — the Astronomical Society, the Sidewalk Astronomers, the Planetary Society — and they have been doing this for decades, which means the person adjusting the focus for you has explained Saturn's rings to roughly nine thousand people and has not got tired of the moment when it lands. Come early and the same telescopes are pointed at the sun.
Two in the afternoon until a quarter to ten, free, up on the south lawn. Nobody forgets the first time they see the rings with their own eye.
Los Angeles is where the night sky went to die. Ten million people worth of sodium glow means a kid can grow up here and never once see the Milky Way, and the strange consequence is that an actual telescope pointed at an actual planet lands much harder on an Angeleno than it would on somebody from a dark county.
So volunteers haul their own instruments up the hill and set them on the lawn, dozens of them, and let strangers look. The people running them are amateurs in the old sense — the Astronomical Society, the Sidewalk Astronomers, the Planetary Society — and they have been doing this for decades, which means the person adjusting the focus for you has explained Saturn's rings to roughly nine thousand people and has not got tired of the moment when it lands. Come early and the same telescopes are pointed at the sun.
Two in the afternoon until a quarter to ten, free, up on the south lawn. Nobody forgets the first time they see the rings with their own eye.
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