Astronomy & Celestial Mechanics
the sky, computed
Concept

Obliquity — where it appears

The angle between a body's rotation axis and the normal to its orbital plane, which is what produces its seasons. The Earth's varies between about 22.1 and 24.5 degrees over 41,000 years, which is one of the three Milankovitch cycles.

Named by 28 essays across 3 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.

What an eccentricity does to the shape, and what it does to the offset. The fractional flattening 1 − b/a and the fractional focal offset c/a, against eccentricity. The offset is first order in e and the flattening is second, so at Earth's e = 0.0167 the outline is 0.014% from a circle while the Sun sits 1.67% of the semi-major axis off the centre — a factor of 120.

An orbit can look exactly like a circle and still not be one

Earth's orbit departs from a circle by fourteen parts in a hundred thousand. The Sun's offset from its centre is a hundred and twenty times larger, and everything interesting is in the offset.

orbits · The ellipse Four averages of one distance, and the two of them that are the semi-major axis. The average distance of a body from its primary, against eccentricity and in units of the semi-major axis, computed four ways: averaged over time, over true anomaly, over eccentric anomaly, and as the harmonic mean in time. Every curve is a quadrature over the orbit — 2,048 panels uniform in eccentric anomaly, with Kepler's equation supplying the time weight — and not a closed form. Two of the four are exactly a at every eccentricity, which is why they are drawn as one line: the eccentric-anomaly average, because the mean of cos E over a turn is zero, and the harmonic mean in time, because the time weight cancels 1/r at every node before the sum begins. The other two are not: the time average is a(1 + e²/2), which rises to 1.4050 a at e = 0.9, and the true-anomaly average is a√(1−e²) — the semi-minor axis — which falls to 0.4359 a there. So a is the average distance in two senses out of four, and the ordering b ≤ a ≤ ⟨r⟩ₜ holds at every eccentricity with equality only on the circle. At Earth's e = 0.0167 the four agree to 0.014%, and at Mercury's e = 0.2056 the spread is 2.14%. The distinction is invisible for the planets and unavoidable for a comet, and it is the reason a quoted "mean distance" has to say which mean.

The average depends on what is being averaged

Four ways of averaging one orbit's distance from its primary give four different numbers, and only two of them are the semi-major axis. Which two is not a matter of convention, and the same arithmetic decides how much sunlight a planet receives in a year.

orbits · Orbital averages Every model curve has slope −1, and four measurements agree on κ to 1.5×. Semi-major-axis drift against body diameter, for a thermal recoil in which a fraction κ = 0.085 of the absorbed sunlight comes back out along-track. The three curves are the same expression at 1, 1.6, 2.5 astronomical units, and each has a slope of exactly −1: the acceleration is the absorbed power divided by the mass, which is a cross-section over a volume, so it falls as one over the size and nothing else on this axis changes it. A kilometre-wide body drifts a few metres a year; a ten-metre one drifts hundreds. The four filled marks are the bodies whose drift has actually been measured as a fitted parameter in an orbit solution, and they do not lie on any single curve because each carries its own density, distance and obliquity. What they agree about is the number beside each: solve every measured drift for the efficiency that would produce it and the four answers are 0.084, 0.085, 0.089, 0.129 — a factor of 1.5 apart, for a quantity that could in principle have been anything from zero to a fifth. That agreement is the evidence that the mechanism is understood, and it is the only evidence there is, because the thermal conductivity that sets κ has never been measured for any of them.

An orbit moved by heat

A rotating body re-radiates absorbed sunlight from the hemisphere that has had time to warm, so the recoil is not aimed at the Sun. The resulting force is a few parts in ten billion of gravity, it is the only orbital force whose sign depends on which way the body spins, and it has been measured to four figures.

orbits · Non-gravitational forces A 128.8-million-year-old collision, dated from the shape of a scatter plot. The Erigone family: 165 members drawn at their diameters and their proper semi-major axes, with inverse diameter up the page. The cloud is a V, and the V is a clock. Each member has been drifting in semi-major axis ever since the collision at a rate that goes as one over its diameter, with a sign set by which way it spins — prograde outward, retrograde inward — so after 130 million years the small members have moved far and the large ones have barely moved at all. Plotted against 1/D that envelope is a straight line through the family's centre, and its slope is the drift rate for a one-kilometre body multiplied by the elapsed time. Fitting the two edges of the points actually drawn here returns 128.85 million years against the 130 the members were generated from. The rounding at the bottom is not an artefact: it is the ejection velocity, some 15 metres per second, which every member got at the moment of the collision and which is the same for all sizes. The picture cannot show the interlopers — background asteroids that happen to lie inside the V and have nothing to do with the family — and it cannot show the members that have drifted into a resonance and left the belt entirely, which is the reason the oldest families have the softest edges.

A collision dated by a scatter plot

Nothing in the solar system carries a date. A collisional family does — because a force that depends on a body's size has been pushing its fragments apart ever since, so the cloud is a V whose slope is an elapsed time, and one of those dates is confirmed by fossil meteorites in Swedish limestone.

orbits · Asteroid families The Sun's altitude through the day at latitude 52°. Solar altitude against the hour of the day, at one latitude, for the solstices and the equinox. Where a curve crosses zero is sunrise or sunset, and the width between the crossings is the length of the day.

The Sun's path, and the tilt that makes the seasons

Summer is not when the Earth is closest to the Sun — that happens in January. It is when the Sun climbs higher and stays up longer, and both come from a 23.4° tilt.

sky · Seasons The path of the celestial pole over 25,772 years. The circle the Earth's rotation axis traces among the stars, at a radius equal to the obliquity, with the bright stars that fall near it and the years at which each is closest. Polaris is the pole star for a few centuries either side of now, and nothing else on the circle is nearly as close.

The pole star has a shelf life, and the sky has a slow hand

The Earth's axis traces a circle among the stars once every 25,772 years. Polaris is at the pole now, was not four thousand years ago, and will not be in two thousand more.

sky · Precession The equation of time, and its two causes. The difference between a sundial and a clock over the year, in minutes, computed from Kepler's equation and the tilt. The eccentricity term has one cycle a year and the obliquity term has two; their sum runs from −14.2 to 16.4 minutes.

The Sun is a bad clock, by up to sixteen minutes

Solar noon and twelve o'clock are not the same instant, and the discrepancy runs through a fixed annual cycle. It has two causes, one from the shape of the orbit and one from the tilt of the axis.

sky · Equation of time Twilight at latitude 52°. Solar altitude through the second half of the day at 52°, on June solstice, equinox, December solstice, with the four thresholds that define twilight marked. Sunset is at −0.833° rather than at 0° because the Sun's own semi-diameter and the atmosphere's refraction together lift it by that much when it is geometrically already down. Civil twilight ends at −6°, when the brightest stars appear and outdoor work stops; nautical at −12°, when the horizon can no longer be seen against the sky and a sextant becomes useless; astronomical at −18°, when the sky stops contributing to a photometric measurement. Their durations at equinox here are 34 min, 40 min, 42 min — twilight is not a fixed length, it is the reciprocal of how steeply the Sun descends, and the Sun descends at an angle of about 90° − φ to the horizon. At this latitude the curve for June solstice never reaches −18° at all: astronomical twilight does not end, and there is no astronomically dark night from about 48.6° upward.

Three definitions of night

Twilight ends at three different depression angles, and each threshold is a statement about what can no longer be done. Its length is not a duration but a rate — how fast the Sun goes down — and above one latitude the deepest of the three never arrives at all.

sky · Twilight The wobble inside the wobble. Left: the two components of nutation over 40 years, from the four largest terms of the standard series. The long wave is the regression of the Moon's node in 18.613 years, which is where nearly all of it comes from; the ripple on it is the semi-annual solar term at 1.3″ and the semi-monthly lunar one at 0.2″. Right: the loop the pole actually traces over one node cycle, in arcseconds on the sky, with the mean pole at the centre. The loop is 14.89″ by 19.90″ — taller than it is wide, because the longitude term is foreshortened by sin ε while the obliquity term is not, which is the one thing a schematic of this is always drawn getting wrong. Over the same 18.6 years precession itself carries the pole 936″ along its circle, 47 times the loop's own height, so nutation is a wobble on a path and not a path. It is nonetheless 99,480 times the 0.2 mas astrometry of a modern catalogue, which is why a position has to say whether it is referred to the mean pole or the true one.

The wobble inside the wobble

Precession and nutation are the same torque. The difference is that the Moon's orbital plane turns once in 18.6 years, so part of the pull oscillates instead of accumulating — and a catalogue position is not a direction until it says which pole it is measured from.

sky · Precession A 27.5 m/s velocity the star does not have. Left: a rotating stellar disc, approaching on one side and receding on the other, with the chord a planet of 0.1 stellar radii takes across it at impact parameter 0.5 and a sky-projected obliquity of 0°. Right: the apparent radial velocity that results, computed by covering the disc cell by cell — the flux hidden at each phase and its mean line-of-sight velocity — rather than from a fitted formula. The star's centre of mass does not move at any point in this: the anomaly is entirely a statement about which parts of the line profile are missing. Its amplitude is 27.5 m/s at v sin i = 4.5 km/s, and the two numbers are related by the depth of the transit, since blocking a fraction f of light of mean velocity v shifts a flux-weighted centroid by f·v. The curve is antisymmetric about mid-transit to 0.00% of its own amplitude, which is what an aligned transit gives: equal time on the blue half and the red. Limb darkening is included at u = 0.6, and it matters: it weights the hidden light towards the centre of the disc, where the rotation velocity is smallest.

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.

exoplanets · Spin–orbit alignment Drift against thermal inertia: a peak at Γ = 93, in the same place for every size. How fast an asteroid's orbit drifts under its own re-radiated heat, against the thermal inertia of its surface, at a rotation period of 4.3 hours and 1.13 astronomical units. Both axes are logarithmic, and the curves are four diameters. The non-monotonic shape is the content. A surface that conducts nothing re-radiates its heat the instant it receives it: the emission is then symmetric about the sub-solar point and the transverse push cancels exactly. A surface that conducts perfectly is isothermal, has no temperature contrast at all, and again pushes nowhere. The force lives between those two nothings, and peaks where the surface's thermal time constant is comparable to the rotation period — here at Γ = 93 in SI units, and at the same place on every curve, because the size scales the drift without moving the optimum. That separation is what makes the effect a measurement. A drift rate on its own is a single number with several unknowns in it; a drift rate together with a size from radar, a spin from a light curve and a density from a flyby leaves the thermal inertia as the only thing not measured, and solving for it says what the surface is made of. Fine dust sits near 50, bare rock in the thousands, and the values measured for the bodies spacecraft have visited — Bennu at 310, Ryugu at 225, Itokawa at 700 — straddle the peak, with the two rubble piles a factor of two or three above it and the Moon's dust well below. Being past the optimum is not a small effect but it is a gentle one: the curve falls as one over the thermal inertia on that side, so a surface three times more conductive than optimal still drifts at a third of the best rate, while one three times more insulating drifts at a third as well. The shape is symmetric in the logarithm, which is why the measurement is a good one for telling dust from pebbles and a poor one for telling pebbles from boulders. The curve is one-dimensional linear theory for a rotating half-space: it has the right limits and the right peak, and it omits the body's shape, which for an irregular asteroid changes the answer by tens of per cent.

A drift rate that says what the surface is made of

The thermal recoil that moves an asteroid's orbit depends on how long its surface holds heat, and the dependence is not monotonic — a perfect insulator and a perfect conductor both push nothing. The peak in between means a measured drift is a measurement of thermal inertia, which is a measurement of grain size.

orbits · Non-gravitational forces Mercury's forced libration: 38.5″ against the 16.2″ a solid body would give. The measurement that finds a liquid core from a distance. A body on an eccentric orbit does not feel a steady torque: the pull on its equatorial bulge swings back and forth through the orbit, and the body rocks about its mean rotation by a small angle. How small depends on how much moment of inertia has to be rocked, and on nothing else — every other factor in the problem belongs to the orbit or to the body's own measured gravity field. The horizontal axis is therefore the fraction of the total polar moment that participates, one if the whole body turns rigidly together, and the vertical axis is the resulting amplitude. The curve is a rectangular hyperbola, because the same torque applied to less moment produces proportionally more angle. A Mercury turning in one piece would librate by 16.2 arcseconds. Radar measurements of the actual rocking give 38.5 ± 1.6, which is 2.38 times larger and many standard deviations away, so only 42 per cent of the moment is being rocked at all. The other 58 per cent is not following the mantle on an eighty-eight-day timescale, and the only way for an interior not to follow its own mantle is for the two to be separated by a liquid. That is how a planet nobody has landed on was shown to have a molten core — by watching, from Earth, the tiny irregularity of its turning. The figure treats the librating shell as rigid, which is right for a rocky mantle and wrong for an ice shell floating on an ocean, where the shell's own elasticity enters at the same level as the effect.

Four numbers that weigh a planet's core

Mercury rocks about its mean rotation by thirty-eight arcseconds, which is more than twice what a planet turning in one piece could manage. The excess says that most of the planet's moment of inertia is not following the mantle on an eighty-eight-day timescale, and the only thing that does not follow a mantle is a liquid.

sky · Libration Two equilibria become four, and three worlds sit near the join. The Cassini equilibria of a spin axis, drawn against the ratio of its own precession rate to the rate at which its orbit plane turns, for an orbit inclination of 1.5 degrees. Each column of dots is the full set of obliquities at which the two precessions keep step at that ratio, found by root-finding rather than by tracing a remembered curve. Below α cos ε/|g| = 1.135 there are two such obliquities and above it there are four, and the figure checks both counts on either side of the join. The three marked bodies are placed by their own measured precession constants: the Earth with the Moon at 2.67, safely on the four-state side; the Earth without it at 0.86; and Mars at 1.06. Two of the three sit within a few tenths of the bifurcation, which is the whole reason their obliquities are not constants: near the join the equilibria are close together, the libration around them is wide, and a body pushed between neighbouring resonances wanders. The Moon's contribution to the Earth's precession constant is what moves the first mark away from that region, and the second mark is the same planet with that contribution removed. This is a two-frequency model of a many-frequency system, and the real chaos comes from the overlap of resonances it does not contain.

A tilt that is not a constant

The Earth's axis leans by 23.4 degrees, and that lean is what makes the seasons. It is also a dynamical variable with its own equilibria, its own resonances and its own chaos — and on Mars the same variable has swung between nearly zero and sixty degrees without anything having to happen.

sky · Obliquity June sunlight at 65°N, against where perihelion sits. Daily-mean insolation at latitude 65 degrees north on the June solstice, at an obliquity of 23.44 degrees, against the longitude of perihelion measured from the March equinox — the angle that precesses right round in about twenty-one thousand years. Three eccentricities are drawn. The swing is ±10.0 per cent at e = 0.05 and ±1.0 per cent at e = 0.005, in proportion to the eccentricity, because the Sun–Earth distance on a fixed date carries e cos of the precession angle and that is first order. Over the same range of eccentricity the annual mean at this latitude moves by 0.12 per cent, because the annual mean carries 1/√(1−e²) and that is second order. The two together are the whole of the precession term in Milankovitch's theory: the eccentricity does almost nothing to how much sunlight the Earth receives and a great deal to when it arrives, and the ice sheets of the northern hemisphere respond to the summer they might melt in rather than to the year's total. It also explains why the precession signal disappears when the orbit is nearly circular: multiply a large angular swing by a vanishing eccentricity and there is nothing left, which is what the innermost curve here is.

An average that precession cannot move

Sunlight arrives as the inverse square of the distance and time passes as its square, so the two cancel exactly in a year's integral. The longitude of perihelion therefore changes the annual mean insolation at every latitude by precisely nothing — and changes June at 65°N by ten per cent.

orbits · Orbital averages Why the Moon holds the tilt still. Spin-axis precession rate against obliquity, with the solar system's own secular frequencies drawn across it. The rising-and-falling curves are α cos ε for three precession constants: the Earth as it is, with the Moon supplying about two thirds of the torque; and a Moonless Earth at two plausible rotation rates. The horizontal lines are the nodal eigenfrequencies of the planetary secular system — s₆, s₃, s₄, s₂, s₁, s₇, s₈ — which are the rates at which the Earth's own orbit plane wobbles. A crossing is a resonance: the axis is precessing about a plane that is itself turning at the same rate, the resonant angle stops circulating, and the obliquity librates instead of holding still. The present Earth precesses at 50.3 arcseconds a year, faster than every secular frequency in the list, and its nearest crossing is at 61.3°, which is 37.8 degrees from the obliquity drawn. Take the Moon away and α falls by a factor of three; the crossings come down with it, 3 of them land below 85°, and where several overlap the obliquity has no stable value at all. The Moon does not hold the axis by pulling on it. It holds it by making the precession too fast to resonate with anything.

A tilt held still by being too fast to resonate

The Moon does not hold the Earth's axis by pulling on it. It triples the rate at which the axis precesses, which lifts that rate clear of every frequency at which the Earth's own orbit plane wobbles — and a precession with nothing to resonate with cannot wander.

sky · Obliquity The equation of time, and its two causes. The difference between a sundial and a clock over the year, in minutes, computed from Kepler's equation and the tilt. The eccentricity term has one cycle a year and the obliquity term has two; their sum runs from −14.2 to 16.4 minutes.

Two fictitious suns in sequence

The equation of time is usually described as one quantity with two causes. It is better read as two separate reductions, each with its own imaginary body — one that moves uniformly along the ecliptic and one that moves uniformly along the equator — and the second is not the first.

sky · Equation of time The extreme sunset and sunrise, neither of them on the December solstice. Sunset and sunrise in local mean solar time through the ninety days around the December solstice, at latitude 52°, computed from Kepler's equation and the tilt. Each is the solar noon — which is 12:00 minus the equation of time — plus or minus half the day arc, and the two ingredients have different stationary points. The day length is stationary at the solstice, exactly, because the declination is. The equation of time is not: it is changing at about 0.50 minutes a day there, moving solar noon steadily. So the sum is still changing after the day length has stopped, and the earliest sunset comes on 14 Dec — 9 days before the solstice on 23 Dec — while the latest sunrise comes on 31 Dec, 9 days after it. The shortest day is the solstice, and neither of its ends is extreme there. Nothing in this is an approximation or a correction: it is a sum of two functions with different stationary points, and the stationary point of a sum is not the stationary point of either.

The earliest sunset is not the shortest day

A sunset time is solar noon plus half the day length, and the two have different stationary points. The day length stops shortening at the solstice; the equation of time does not stop moving, so the sum keeps falling — and the earliest sunset comes days before the shortest day.

sky · Equation of time Mars: a sundial 40 minutes ahead and 51 behind. The equation of time on Mars over one of its years, 668.6 sols long, against sols since the northern spring equinox, computed from Kepler's equation for an orbit of eccentricity 0.0934 and an axis tilted 25.19°, with perihelion at solar longitude 250.87°. The solid curve is the difference between true and mean solar time: it runs from −51.1 local minutes, 611 sols after the equinox, to +39.9, 385 sols after it — −52.5 to +41.0 in Earth minutes, since a local minute is a 1,440th of a sol. The dashed curves are its two parts. The eccentricity term, one cycle a year, swings by ±42.9 minutes; the obliquity term, two cycles, by ±11.4; the first is 3.74 times the second. Perihelion falls 485 sols after the equinox, marked, and the vertical lines are the equinoxes and solstices.

On Mars the orbit outweighs the tilt

The equation of time is the sum of two terms, one from the shape of the orbit and one from the tilt of the axis, and on the Earth they are nearly the same size. On Mars the orbit's term is almost four times the tilt's, a sundial runs from fifty-one minutes behind the clock to forty ahead, and the figure-of-eight the Sun traces in the Earth's sky becomes a teardrop. Nothing about the two terms is different; only their ratio is.

sky · Equation of time Five zones, one angle. The Sun's highest and lowest noon altitude against latitude, for an obliquity of 23.4393°. The upper curve is noon on the summer solstice and the lower is noon on the winter one; they are the same function of latitude displaced by 23.4393° in each direction, which is why one angle fixes both boundaries. Where the upper curve reaches 90° is the tropic, at 23.44° — the Sun is overhead at noon there on exactly one day, and somewhere inside it on every other day of the year. Where the lower curve reaches 0° is the polar circle, at 66.56° — the Sun fails to clear the horizon on the winter solstice, and on more days the further poleward one goes. They are the same inequality: |φ| ≤ ε for the first and |φ| ≥ 90° − ε for the second, and an obliquity of zero would collapse the tropics to the equator and push the polar circles to the poles, leaving one zone. The areas are the part that is not intuitive. The fraction of a sphere between two latitudes is the difference of their sines, so the tropics — a band a quarter of the way to the pole — hold 39.8 per cent of the Earth's surface, the temperate zones 52.0 per cent, and the polar caps only 8.3. The zone where the Sun can be overhead is 4.8 times the area of the zone where it can fail to rise, and both boundaries are the same 23.44°.

Five zones, and one angle

The tropics are where the Sun can stand overhead; the polar circles are where it can fail to rise. Both boundaries are 23.44° measured from opposite ends, and the zone the Sun can reach is nearly five times the area of the zone it can miss.

sky · Seasons The sunniest place on Earth is the summer pole. Daily-mean insolation against latitude, on the June solstice, an equinox, the December solstice, computed from Q = (S₀/π)(ā/r)²[H₀ sin φ sin δ + cos φ cos δ sin H₀] with the half-day angle clipped to a whole day inside the polar circle. On the June solstice the north pole receives 524 W/m² and the equator receives 385 — a third more, at a place where the Sun never climbs above 23.4°. Both halves of the product move: the Sun is low, so each square metre catches little; and it never sets, so the catching goes on for twenty-four hours. The second wins. That is why the daily total and the noon altitude disagree about where summer is strongest, and the daily total is the one an ice sheet answers to. The two hemispheres are not equal either. The Earth is nearest the Sun in early January, so the December solstice delivers 559 W/m² to the south pole against the north pole's 524 in June — 6.7 per cent more. What this cannot show is any temperature. Antarctica is the coldest place on Earth and receives the most sunlight of anywhere on any day; between the insolation and the temperature sit an albedo, an altitude and an ocean.

The sunniest place is the summer pole

On the June solstice the north pole receives 524 watts per square metre averaged over the day, and the equator 385. The Sun there never climbs above 23.4° and never sets, and the second wins.

sky · Seasons A hotter summer that is also a shorter one. Daily-mean sunlight at 65°N through one year beginning at the March equinox, for an orbit of eccentricity 0.0167 and obliquity 23.44°, drawn twice: with perihelion at the June solstice, when the northern summer is closest to the Sun, and with perihelion at the December solstice, half a precession cycle later. The first summer peaks 6.9% higher, and it is also shorter, because the Earth moves fastest near perihelion: days above 275 W m⁻² number 139 against 144. The energy delivered on those days — the shaded area above the line — is 5.055 against 4.989 GJ m⁻², a difference of 1.3%. The second law makes the intensity and the duration trade against each other almost exactly, so a summer measured by how much energy it delivers barely feels precession at all.

A hotter summer that is also a shorter one

When the Earth passes closest to the Sun in northern summer, the northern summer is brighter — and, by Kepler's second law, shorter by exactly the right amount to deliver almost the same energy. Measured by the energy it delivers above a melting threshold rather than by its brightest day, a summer barely feels the precession cycle at all and feels the tilt of the axis several times more strongly.

orbits · Orbital averages Mars's tilt over fifty million years, and a steadier twin. The obliquity of a Mars-like planet against time over 50 million years, integrated from 25 degrees with its orbital plane wobbling in five secular modes. With Mars's precession constant, 8.26 arcseconds a year, the axis wanders between 1 and 70 degrees, lingering near some values and lurching between them. The same planet precessing 6 times faster — about the Earth's rate, which the Moon's pull makes possible — stays between 23.2 and 30.8 degrees, because its precession is too fast to resonate with any of the orbital-plane frequencies. The orbital perturbations are illustrative, of the size Mars's own are; the chaos is computed from them.

A past that can only be given as odds

Mars's axis is tilted by twenty-five degrees today, and nothing holds it there. Its slow precession falls among the frequencies at which its orbital plane wobbles, the resonances overlap, and the tilt wanders chaotically between nearly zero and sixty degrees. Two calculations that start a hair apart part company within a few tens of millions of years — so Mars's obliquity a billion years ago is not a number anybody will compute. What can be computed is how much of its history the planet spent at each tilt, and that distribution is a prediction the ice at its poles can test.

sky · Obliquity The same tilt, and ice ages of two different lengths. Top: the obliquity anomaly in degrees from the five largest terms of the standard series, over 2 million years of model time; it is dominated by the 41,000-year cycle and has no power at all near 100,000 years. Bottom: ice volume in a threshold model driven by it — the ice grows steadily, and it collapses whenever volume plus a multiple of the obliquity anomaly crosses a threshold, marked by dots. For the first 1 million years the threshold is low and the ice collapses at nearly every obliquity maximum, on average every 43 thousand years. At the vertical line the threshold is raised, and nothing else changes: the ice now survives one or two obliquity maxima and collapses at the second or third, every 108 thousand years on average. The forcing is identical on both sides; the ice sheet counts it differently.

An ice sheet that skips a beat of the tilt

The last eight hundred thousand years of ice ages come roughly every hundred thousand years, and the Earth's orbit has no forcing of any strength at that period. A model in which an ice sheet collapses only when it is both large and warmed by a high-obliquity summer reproduces the rhythm with nothing but the forty-one-thousand-year tilt — the ice sheet grows through one or two maxima and falls on the next — and a slow rise in how large the ice must grow turns the older forty-one-thousand-year world into the newer one without any change in the orbit.

orbits · Orbital averages The plane a moon's orbit turns about, between equator and ecliptic. The inclination of the Laplace plane — the plane about which a satellite's orbit precesses — to the Earth's equator, against distance from the Earth in Earth radii, for an obliquity of 23.44°. Close in, the Earth's equatorial bulge dominates and the plane is the equator; far out, the Sun dominates and it is the ecliptic, 23.44° away. The dashed curve uses today's bulge, which makes the transition at 8.4 Earth radii. The solid curve lets the bulge grow with the faster spin the Earth had when the Moon was closer — a 5.3-hour day at 5 Earth radii, from the system's angular momentum alone — which moves the transition out to about 14. The Moon today, at 60.3 Earth radii, has a Laplace plane within 0.0022° of the ecliptic, so its 5.15° inclination is entirely free: nothing forces it.

A tilt the Moon should not have

A moon's orbit precesses about a plane that sits on its planet's equator close in and on the planet's own orbit far out. A Moon born in the Earth's equator and carried outward by the tides should have followed that plane all the way to the ecliptic, because the angle it keeps to it is an adiabatic invariant. It is inclined by five degrees instead, and slow recession cannot have put them there.

orbits · Angular momentum The summer sunshine at Mars's north pole over the last million years. The sunshine reaching Mars's north pole at the summer solstice, relative to its average, over the last 1,000 thousand years (blue), from a forcing built from the main periods of Mars's recent orbit: the tilt varying by about 3.5 degrees in 120,000 years and 1 degree in 99,000, the eccentricity by 0.03 in 95,000 years and 0.02 in 2.4 million, and the perihelion going round the seasons once in 51,000 years. The part due to the tilt alone is dashed. The sunshine swings by a factor of 2.06 between its extremes: the tilt sets a slow swell with a period of 120,000 years, and the precession, whose strength the eccentricity sets, cuts a faster ripple of 51,000 years into it, strongest when the orbit is most eccentric. These two periods, and their ratio of 2.35, are what a record of the sunshine should carry.

Layers that keep the rhythm and lose the dates

Mars's polar caps are stacks of ice and dust laid down while the planet's tilt and orbit changed the summer sunshine, and the question is whether they can be read as a record of that sunshine. They can — for the rhythm. Even when the ice accumulates faster under weak sunshine than under strong, the cycles of the tilt and the precession survive in the depth of the stack in their correct proportion. What does not survive is the date of any one layer.

sky · Obliquity The Moon's Cassini states as it recedes. The angle between the Moon's spin axis and its orbit normal in each Cassini state, signed so that the present state is positive, against the Earth–Moon distance in Earth radii, for the Moon's present shape (β = (C − A)/B fixed) and orbital inclination. Today the Moon sits in Cassini state 2 at 6.68°. Closer in, two more states exist, a low-obliquity state 1 and an unstable state 4; they meet and vanish at 33.8 Earth radii, where the spin-axis precession, which weakens as the cube of the distance, falls to the critical fraction of the orbit's regression. A Moon that formed close to the Earth sat in state 1 at small obliquity, growing to 21° as it receded; at 33.8 Earth radii that state disappeared from under it, and it had to move to state 2 — which at that distance is at 46°. Since then, the obliquity has relaxed along state 2 to its present value.

A state the Moon had to jump to

The Moon's spin axis sits a degree and a half from the ecliptic pole, locked in a geometry Cassini described in 1693. The lock is an equilibrium between the Earth's torque on the Moon's bulge and the slow regression of its orbit, and both depend on the Moon's distance. When the Moon was closer than about 34 Earth radii there were two more equilibria — and the one it almost certainly occupied vanished as it receded, leaving it to jump to the present one at an obliquity near 45°.

sky · Libration The rhythms in the rock, set by the Moon's distance. The periods of the climatic precession cycles — the precession constant plus the perihelion frequency of each of the planets that dominate the Earth's eccentricity — and of the obliquity cycle, the precession constant plus the node frequency s₃, against the Earth–Moon distance. Today they are 23.8, 22.4, 19.0 thousand years for precession and 41 for obliquity. At 341,000 km they were 14.7, 14.2, 12.8 and 20.0. The planetary frequencies are held at today's values, which the chaos of the inner solar system makes uncertain beyond a few tens of millions of years; the precession constant is the term that moves.

A rhythm in the rock that measures the Moon

The Earth's axis precesses because the Sun and Moon pull on its equatorial bulge, and two-thirds of the pull is the Moon's. When the Moon was nearer and the day shorter, the axis turned faster, and the climate cycles that precession drives were shorter. Sediments laid down 1.4 billion years ago record those cycles — and with nothing in the rock but layer thicknesses, the ratio of two rhythms gives the Moon's distance at the time.

sky · Precession The Moon is late by anything from a quarter of an hour to well over an hour. Minutes between one moonrise and the next at latitude 52° N, against the Moon's longitude along its orbit, with the node at 0°. The daily delay is 10 minutes at longitude 354° and 84 at 222°. The mean of 50 minutes everyone quotes is true only as an average. A full Moon stands opposite the Sun, so it passes the shallow point near the September equinox, and the crescent passes it in spring.

A full Moon that stops rising later

The Moon rises about fifty minutes later each day. That number is an average that hardly any night obeys. At fifty-two degrees north, in late September, the full Moon rises only ten or twenty minutes later for several nights running, so that a bright Moon stands in the evening sky for most of a week, just when harvest once needed it. Nothing about the Moon changes. It is the angle at which its path meets the horizon, and that angle goes through its lowest value at one point of the ecliptic, which the autumn's full Moon happens to occupy.

sky · Seasons

Named alongside it

The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.

EccentricityInsolationEquinoxSolar declinationSolsticeAnalemmaMilankovitch cyclesEquation of timeAngular momentumCassini stateDeclinationKepler's second law

All concepts