Звезда Т-Короны Северной возгорится и засияет ярче Полярной звезды

A tiny crown, or a celestial smile Across the celestial dome over Butler, through the course of the year, big and bright constellations like Orion the Hunter and Scorpius the Scorpion cross the sky, and they’re wonderful to gaze upon, but personally, I’ve always liked diminutive, yet distinct, constellations. One of them is Corona Borealis, the “Northern Crown,” visible in the evening sky since spring, but now, in late summer, beginning its long goodbye in the early evening western sky. There’s still plenty of time to see it though — through at least mid-October. Corona Borealis is Latin for “the Little Crown,” and a case can certainly be made for how the Greeks and Romans saw it as a crown, a stellar jewels in the heavens. To me, I though it looks much more like a little smile. It’s really easy to see how the Australians see it as a boomerang. In China it’s known as “acord” — and, I have to confess, I really don’t get that at all. According to a Shawnee legend, they see the stars of Corona Borealis as the home maidens that occasionally descend down to Earth and dance about. However you want to see Corona Borealis, look for it in the western sky just to the upper left of the much larger constellation Bootes the Hunting Herdsman. Actually, Bootes much more resembles a giant kite, rather than a herdsman in pursuit of the constellation Ursa Major, the Big Bear. The brightest star in the evening sky shines at the tail of the kite. That’s Arcturus. One of the classic adages of stargazing is the saying “arc to Arturus.” Just extend the curved handle of the Big Dipper beyond the end of the handle with your mind’s eye, and you’ll run right into Arcturus. The brightest star in Corona Borealis is Alphecca, pronounced “al-feck-ah.” It’s a hot, bluish-white star, 75 light-years away, or about 435 trillion miles. It’s so far away that the light we see from Alphecca this week left that star during the Korean War. Just off the upper left of the “smile” is an extremely faint star, T-Coronae Borealis. There’s no way you can see that star with the naked eye. You’ll need a moderately large telescope, but even then, it’s extremely difficult to find. So why am I bringing it up? Because there is a decent chance that it’ll suddenly dramatically brighten into a new naked star, at least temporarily. T-Coronae Borealis is also known as the “Blaze Star,” but it sure doesn’t blaze that often. In the last 150 years, it’s only blazed up for a few days in 1866 and again in 1946, but many astronomers predict it could blaze again soon. So, what’s going on? T-Coronae Borealis, about 3,000 light-years away, is a double-star system comprising a large red giant star and a dying white dwarf star. As the two orbit each other, the intense gravity of the white dwarf pulls gas off the red giant star. The details are complicated, but the white dwarf star can only acquire so much additional gas before it becomes extremely unstable and ignites in a brief flash of nuclear fusion on its surface, triggering what is known as a nova outburst. When this happens to T-Coronae Borealis, it’ll temporarily become as bright as Alphecca and also as bright as nearby Polaris, the North Star. In about a week, though, T-Coronae Borealis fades back to obscurity. Keep your eyes on Corona Borealis. The Northern Crown might soon possess another jewel when the Blaze Star blazes away! According to Greek mythology, Corona Borealis was the crown of Ariadne. So who is Ariadne? She was the daughter of the evil king of Crete, who, once a year, sacrificed seven young men and seven young women to the horrible monster, the Minotaur. Anyway, as the men and women were being led to the Minotaur one year, Ariadne made eye contact with Theseus, one of the men being led to slaughter and poof! It was love at first sight. Quickly, Ariadne secretly armed Theseus with a sword. Theseus ripped the Minotaur to shreds and dashed over to Ariadne, who was waiting for him. The couple quickly dashed off in a boat and stopped overnight on the island of Naxos. They probably should have had some premarital counseling and got to know each other a little better, because it just didn’t work out. Theseus ditched Ariadne, leaving her sobbing uncontrollably on a beach at Naxos. The island of Naxos was run by Dionysus, the fun-loving god of wine, festivals and fun in general. He was the party god! Dionysus fell head over heals in love with Ariadne, and this time it was real love. Bacchus and Ariadne were eventually married. He gave her a very extravagant gift. He took off his own crown and threw it into the air so high that it sprouted stars, symbolizing his everlasting love for the princess. Ariadne has long since left us, but her crown shines on in the western sky tonight. Mike Lynch is an amateur astronomer and professional broadcast meteorologist for WCCO Radio in Minneapolis/St. Paul. He is also the author of “Stars: a Month by Month Tour of the Constellations,” published by Adventure Publications and available at bookstores and at adventurepublications.net. Contact him at [email protected].