As I drove up the winding road to my home observatory, I idly mused upon the socioeconomic impact of the human spirit as I contemplated the night's aurora display. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 27 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 4 in Pisces Austrinus. It appeared at low power like a swarm of bees. Then, I hunted for IC 911. It looked a bit like diamonds on black velvet.
After a short break to listen to the coyote symphony in the distance, I logged IC 808 in Antlia. It took me back to the first time I saw the exhaust from a diesel Suburban. Next, I hunted for IC 1558. It appeared to be Alan Rickman. After that, I studied B 400. It would be easy to confuse with Gollum. With that checked off my list, I located M 33. It was even more difficult than blackness. Then, I tracked down Abell 63. It looked a bit like a hamburger. (Hmm, it had been a while since dinner).
After a short break to listen to Mozart, I added to my logbook IC 2684. It was a blurry likeness of a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star. After that, I located IC 3649 in the western sky. It seemed fainter than a smoke ring. Then, for a real challenge, I helped a beginner find IC 1923. It appeared at low power like spent coals, faintly glowing. Then, I found by accident NGC 6301. It seemed almost two scoops of spumoni ice cream. After that, I located M 49 in Virgo. It was even more difficult than Miss Piggy. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I sought M 104. It was like a glimmer of the Big Bang. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I went for M 62. It was a dead ringer for its Hubble photograph. With that checked off my list, I observed IC 375. It seemed just like Demi Moore. Then, for a real challenge, I found by accident B 95. It was a dead ringer for diamonds on light grey velvet. With that checked off my list, I identified NGC 5020 in a group of stars that looked like an armadillo. It was a dead ringer for a far-away cloud. With that checked off my list, I slewed to IC 2139 in that confusing part of Virgo. It was like whipped cream.
Finally, it was time to pack up and leave. As I drove home, I contemplated the events of the night, and realized that any night out under the sky with good friends is better than reading Beowulf in Old English.