Limb darkening — where it appears
Named by 20 essays across 4 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The edge of a shadow is a wave
An asteroid's shadow has an edge because the asteroid is large. The Moon's does not — at visible wavelengths and lunar distance the edge of a shadow is ten metres wide, so a lunar occultation is a diffraction pattern sweeping past at half a kilometre a second, and how blurred its fringes are is the star's own diameter.
An angle of five hundredths of an arcsecond
No telescope has ever resolved a star other than the Sun, and stellar diameters are measured anyway — by finding the separation of two apertures at which the star's interference fringes vanish. What that returns is an angle; the radius arrives only when a distance is brought in, and the distance is the worse-known half.
The same width for three different reasons
Thermal motion, rotation and collisions each widen an absorption line, and they can be tuned to areas that agree to a part in a thousand. What separates them is the shape, and the shape carries a rotation speed from one profile and a surface gravity from another.
The light that is missing from the edge
The Sun's limb is forty per cent as bright as its centre, and the reason is not that the edge is cooler. A sight line entering at the edge stops higher up, so what the darkening measures is the temperature gradient — and it is worth seventeen per cent on Betelgeuse's radius.
The only stars whose masses are known
A star's mass cannot be measured by looking at it. It can be measured by watching two stars pull on each other, and if the pair also eclipses, the same observations give both radii as well — with no stellar model anywhere in the chain. A few hundred such systems calibrate everything else.
Two radii, from a light curve alone
The radius of a star is not measured. It is inferred, from a temperature and a luminosity, through a model. There is one exception — a pair of stars that eclipse each other, whose light curve and velocity curves between them give both radii, both masses and the ratio of temperatures with no model of a stellar interior anywhere in the chain.
A planet measured by the light it removes
A transit gives a depth, and the depth is a ratio of two radii rather than a size. Everything a transit says about a planet is said in units of a star nobody has visited either.
Four contact points, and what they fix
The depth of a transit gives a radius ratio. The shape gives the impact parameter, and then — through nothing but Kepler's third law — the mean density of the star being crossed.
A velocity measured from a shape
A transiting planet hides part of a rotating disc, so the star's line profile loses a slice at one velocity and its fitted centroid moves. The star has not moved at all — and the lopsidedness of that motion is the whole measurement of whether the orbit lies in the star's own equatorial plane.
The depth is not the area
A planet covering one per cent of its star's disc does not make a transit one per cent deep. The star is brighter in the middle, so a planet crossing the middle blocks more than its share — and the correction depends on coefficients that come from a stellar atmosphere model rather than from the light curve.
A temperature that depends on where the observer stands
A star turning near its break-up rate is half again as wide as it is tall, and its equator is thousands of degrees cooler than its poles. Neither of those is a small correction to a spectrum — the effective temperature and the luminosity such a star appears to have are partly statements about which way its axis happens to point.
A diameter that depends on a model atmosphere
An interferometer measures fringe visibilities and somebody fits a disc. A uniform disc and a limb-darkened one agree to within a per cent across the whole of the first lobe and differ by five in the second — where the visibility is under five per cent and the calibration errors are the same size.
A sight line stops at two thirds
The whole of limb darkening is one sentence: what leaves a star at an angle is the source function evaluated where the slant optical depth is one. For a source function linear in depth that statement is exact rather than approximate, and it produces the grey atmosphere's (2+3μ)/5 with no fitting anywhere in it.
A distance that rests on one unmeasured number
A pulsating star's swelling can be measured twice — in kilometres from the Doppler shift of its lines, and in milliarcseconds by an interferometer — and the ratio is its distance, with no calibration against any other star. Except one: the factor that turns a line's velocity into the speed of the surface, which geometry puts at 1.33 to 1.5, measurement puts at 1.2 to 1.35, and every distance carries in proportion.
An angle too small to measure, read from a colour
A giant star in the Large Magellanic Cloud subtends two microarcseconds, a hundred times below anything an interferometer resolves. Its angle is read instead from its colour, through a relation calibrated on nearby stars that can be resolved — and because dust dims a star and reddens it by amounts that nearly cancel in that relation, the distance it gives hardly depends on the dust at all.
The Sun is three hundred kilometres larger seen edge-on
The radius of the Sun measured from images and eclipses and the radius measured from its oscillations disagree by about three hundred kilometres, and neither is wrong. A line of sight grazing the limb passes through hundreds of times more atmosphere than a vertical one and becomes opaque higher up — so the edge a telescope sees sits above the surface the waves feel, and every other definition of the edge, from the detector's threshold to the colour of the light, moves it again.
A transit that runs differently backwards
A star spinning near break-up is brighter at its poles than its equator, so a planet crossing it at an angle covers bright surface on the way in and dim surface on the way out. The light curve stops being symmetric in time, and the part that differs forwards and backwards measures the true spin–orbit angle from photometry alone — on exactly the stars where the line-profile method struggles.
A profile that averages a decade of depth
Each point on a star's disc reports the temperature at a different depth, so a limb-darkening profile looks like a depth sounding of the atmosphere waiting to be read. It is one, but a blurred one. Every angle averages a whole decade of optical depth, the averages overlap, and recovering the temperature structure from them is the inversion of a Laplace transform — a problem whose resolution grows only as the logarithm of the data's precision.
A rotation found where the transform goes dark
A star's rotation and the turbulent flows on its surface both widen its spectral lines, and a profile fitted for one can be refitted for the other with almost no change. Convolution becomes multiplication in Fourier space, though, and the transform of a rotating disc has zeros — frequencies where it is exactly nothing — while the transforms of turbulence and of the spectrograph have none. Where the transform of a line goes dark is a measurement of rotation that turbulence cannot fake.
A polarisation that a round star cancels
In 1946 Chandrasekhar worked out that light leaving a hot star's atmosphere, where scattering by free electrons dominates, is polarised parallel to the star's edge — not at all at the centre of the disc, 11.7 per cent at the very limb. Over a round, unresolved star the pattern adds up to exactly nothing. It took seventy years to see it in the light of a whole star, because something has to break the circle first: a companion crossing the disc, a planet, or a star spun so fast that its outline is no longer round.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Angular diameterEclipsing binaryEffective temperatureInterferometryOptical depthRadiative transferStellar radiusEddington barbierGravity darkeningImpact parameterInclinationLine-broadening