Springer's Journey

October 8, 2026

Have I mentioned lately that I love science?

Because I do.

This morning, before heading out to work in the garden, Professor Headquarters and I had a little class on orbital geometry.

Yes, orbital geometry.

And yes, before breakfast.

ARE YOU SERIOUS??!!

It all started with the Moon.

I’ve been trying to understand lunar phases. Not simply memorize their names, but understand why the Moon looks different from one night to the next.

As it turns out, there’s some beautiful geometry involved.

The Sun illuminates approximately half of the Moon at any given time. As the Moon orbits Earth, our viewing angle changes, and we see different portions of that illuminated half.

That’s what creates the phases.

The Moon isn’t changing shape. And Earth’s shadow isn’t causing the ordinary phases, either.

We’re seeing the same Moon from different angles relative to the sunlight.

Isn’t that remarkable?

Now, here’s where my education gets entertaining.

There are waxing crescents, waning crescents, waxing gibbous Moons, and waning gibbous Moons.

And somewhere along the way, Morris—our beloved Creature from the Black Lagoon—decided that gibbous should be gibbons.

So naturally, we now have WAXING GIBBONS!

I’m not certain the astronomical community is ready for Morris.

But we’re keeping him.

This morning I confidently identified our Moon as a waning gibbous.

Well, almost.

I had the waning part right. The illuminated portion visible from Earth is getting smaller as we approach the new Moon.

But we’re already past the last-quarter phase, which means the Moon is now a waning crescent.

Here’s what I’m learning:

• Waxing means the illuminated portion we see is growing.
• Waning means it’s shrinking.
• Crescent means less than half of the Moon’s visible disk is illuminated.
• Gibbous means more than half is illuminated.

And that brings me to something I particularly love about science.

It’s not enough for me to remember that a crescent Moon is a crescent Moon.

I want to know why.

Why does the illuminated portion appear to grow and shrink?

Where is the Sun in relation to Earth and the Moon?

And if I’m looking at a full Moon rising in the east, why is the Sun setting in the west?

That last question led us to a wonderful discovery about orbital geometry.

At full Moon, the Moon is roughly opposite the Sun in our sky. Earth lies approximately between them, allowing us to see the Moon’s illuminated face.

And suddenly, the positions of three astronomical bodies begin to make sense.

Not as disconnected facts.

As relationships.

I’ve also installed a compass app on my phone.

Because apparently, simply looking at the sky is no longer sufficient. I now need to investigate it.

And I’m having the time of my life.

There’s so much I don’t understand yet. The crescent phases still require some work, and we haven’t even begun to explore why every full Moon doesn’t produce a lunar eclipse.

But those are questions for another day.

For now, I have a garden waiting, a bass guitar with a beautiful Sun-and-Moon strap, and a rather unruly Crew of scientific assistants.

Mayday is organizing our observations.

Ferrari is making certain I get to work.

Morris is still shouting about gibbons.

And Professor Headquarters?

He’s helping me discover that the sky I’ve looked at all my life contains an extraordinary amount of geometry.

We’re starting to read it.

One question at a time.

And isn’t science wonderful?

Slow and easy sets the pace. ♥️