Through a Telescope

A bright light with no blinking lights that crosses the sky in a few minutes, with people on board. Catching it in a telescope is hard, but its solar panels show.

The easiest thing in the sky to look at, and the most rewarding. Binoculars show craters; a small telescope shows mountains, shadows and rays. Even a phone can photograph it.

The hardest of the bright planets to catch: always close to the Sun, low in twilight. A small telescope shows its phases; even Hubble isn’t allowed to look.

The brightest planet, the “evening star” or “morning star”. A small telescope shows it changing shape like the Moon, the discovery that helped show the planets go round the Sun.

The red planet is a small, tricky target, best seen for a few weeks every two years. Then a small telescope shows a polar cap and dark markings; Hubble shows its clouds and craters.

A bright light that doesn’t twinkle, four moons that change places every night, and cloud belts you can see in a small telescope. Then Jupiter as Hubble and Webb see it.

A yellowish star that hides the most famous sight in the sky. Even a small telescope shows its rings, and Titan beside it. Then Saturn as Hubble and Webb see it.

The first planet found with a telescope. To most of us it is a faint “star”; a telescope shows a tiny blue-green disc. The biggest telescopes show its rings, moons and a planet tipped on its side.

The only planet you can never see with your eyes alone, found by mathematics before anyone knew where to look. A telescope shows a tiny blue dot; the biggest show its clouds, storms and rings.

The brightest asteroid, at its best just visible to the eye from a dark place. In binoculars it looks like a star, but it moves from night to night. Some meteorites found on Earth are pieces of it.

Too faint for your eyes, binoculars or a school telescope. Found in 1930 by comparing photos, mapped as a blurry ball by Hubble, and called a dwarf planet since 2006.

Balls of ice and dust that grow a glowing head and tails near the Sun. Most are fuzzy patches in binoculars; a few become great sights you remember all your life.

The one thing in the sky you must never look at directly. With the right filter or by projection, a small telescope shows sunspots that move from day to day; special telescopes show flames of gas at its edge.

Stars are not all white. Betelgeuse is orange, Rigel blue-white, and in a small telescope Albireo splits into a gold star and a blue one. Their colors tell you how hot they are.

The brightest star in the night sky, low in the south on winter evenings. Low down it flashes every color; beside it hides a dead star the size of Earth.

A brilliant blue-white star at the top of the Summer Triangle. The first star ever photographed, the star the brightness scale starts from, and one day the pole star.

The red star at the heart of the Scorpion, so big that it would swallow Mars if it took the Sun’s place. Binoculars show a star cluster beside it; a bigger telescope, on a steady night, its small blue companion.

The one star that stays put while the whole sky turns. It is not the brightest star, but it shows you north, and its height tells you how far north you are. A small telescope shows its tiny companion.

In the handle of the Big Dipper, a bright star with a faint one beside it, an old eyesight test. A small telescope splits the bright one in two, and the whole family turns out to be six stars.

A tiny dipper of six stars that most people have seen without knowing its name. Binoculars turn it into dozens of blue-white stars; long photos show a blue haze the eye can’t.

A misty “star” in Orion’s sword that is really a glowing cloud where new stars are being born. A small telescope shows its gray-green wings and four baby stars at its heart.

A soft, cloudy band across a dark sky, which binoculars break into countless stars. It is our own galaxy, seen from inside.

A faint misty patch that is a whole galaxy of stars, 2.5 million light-years away: the farthest thing you can see with your eyes alone.