The precession-track generator
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.
11 essays call
precession-track. The drawing above is what it returns with no arguments at all; every
call below passes it something, because a placement that passes nothing draws whichever member
of the family the generator happens to default to rather than the one its essay argues about.
Where it is called
Every figure listed here is the same construction drawn at different numbers, so a correction to one is a correction to all of them.
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.
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.
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.
A wobble that should have stopped
The Earth's rotation pole wanders across its own crust in a circle a few metres wide. A rigid Earth would do it in 305 days; it takes 433, and the difference is a measurement of the planet's elasticity. At the observed damping it should have died out within a human lifetime, and it has not.
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.
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.
A core that wobbles at its own period
The Earth's liquid core can turn about an axis slightly tilted from the mantle's, and the flattened boundary between them pushes it back. That gives the planet a second free mode of rotation: in space a slow retrograde nutation of about 430 days, on the ground a wobble just faster than once a day. Its period is a measurement of the shape of a surface under 2,900 kilometres of rock, and it is read twice — in the nodding of the Earth's axis against the quasars, and in the rise and fall of the solid ground under the daily tides.
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.
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.
A Moon measured in banded iron
Layers of iron-rich sediment laid down 2.46 billion years ago in what is now Western Australia keep time with the Earth's precession, and the precession's period says how far away the Moon was: about 321,800 kilometres, with a day of seventeen hours. Together with an older-is-closer point from 1.4 billion years ago, it measures how hard the tides worked between them — about a fifth as hard as today. Held further back, that efficiency brings the Moon out from the Earth a few hundred million years too early, which says the young tides worked harder than the middle-aged ones.
A Moon that rises further north than the Sun
The Sun's rising point swings north and south with the seasons between limits that do not change from one year to the next. The Moon's swings with the month, and its limits themselves open and close over 18.6 years as the plane of its orbit turns. At the widest, in 2024 and 2025, the Moon rose five degrees of declination further north than the midsummer Sun and skimmed the southern horizon of northern Scotland; at the narrowest, nine years later, it stays well inside the Sun's range.