Generator

The refraction-profile generator

Refraction against apparent altitude
Refraction against apparent altitude. How far the air lifts an object, in arcminutes, against where the object appears to be. The lift is 34.5′ at the horizon — larger than the Sun's own diameter — and falls below one arcminute above 45°. At the horizon it is also the least reliable number in positional astronomy, because it depends on the temperature profile of the air the sight line crosses.

How far the air lifts an object, in arcminutes, against where the object appears to be. The lift is 34.5′ at the horizon — larger than the Sun's own diameter — and falls below one arcminute above 45°. At the horizon it is also the least reliable number in positional astronomy, because it depends on the temperature profile of the air the sight line crosses.

6 essays call refraction-profile. 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.

Refraction against apparent altitude. How far the air lifts an object, in arcminutes, against where the object appears to be. The lift is 34.5′ at the horizon — larger than the Sun's own diameter — and falls below one arcminute above 45°. At the horizon it is also the least reliable number in positional astronomy, because it depends on the temperature profile of the air the sight line crosses. The observed sky

The Sun sets before it sets

At the moment the Sun's lower edge appears to touch the horizon, the whole of it is already below. Refraction lifts it by more than its own diameter, squashes it while it is there, and makes every sunrise and sunset time in every almanac a statement about the air rather than about the sky.

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. The observed sky

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.

A star drawn out into 3.0 arcseconds of spectrum. Atmospheric refraction relative to its value at 550 nanometres, against wavelength, at four zenith angles. The air's refractive index rises towards the blue, so the blue image of a star sits above the red one and the object is smeared into a short vertical spectrum. At 60 degrees from the zenith the separation across an optical band is 2.96 arcseconds — several times the size of the image at a good site, and comparable to the width of a spectrograph slit. Every curve here is the same curve multiplied by the tangent of the zenith angle, which is why one corrector with an adjustable strength works at every airmass. The practical consequences are three: a slit aligned other than vertically loses blue light or red light depending on where it was centred, a photometric aperture contains a different fraction of the light in each band, and an astrometric position depends on the colour of the star it is measured from. The observed sky

The atmosphere is a prism as well as a lens

Refraction lifts a star towards the zenith, and everybody corrects for that. It lifts blue light further than red, and the difference is a short vertical spectrum a few arcseconds long — larger than the image, larger than a spectrograph's slit, and quietly present in every ground-based measurement not taken straight overhead.

A square field imaged as a squashed one. A square grid of stars 1° across, centred 70° from the zenith, and how refraction moves each one relative to the field's centre after the displacement common to the whole field has been removed. The arrows are magnified 200 times. Refraction lifts every star towards the zenith, but it lifts the lower ones more because refraction grows towards the horizon, so the field is compressed vertically by 2377 parts per million; and every star moves along its own vertical circle, which converge at the zenith, so the field is compressed horizontally by 286 parts per million. The corners move by up to 4.4 arcseconds against the centre — a hundred times the precision of a modern relative astrometric measurement, and a distortion that changes as the field crosses the sky. The observed sky

A square field imaged as a squashed one

Relative astrometry measures positions against neighbouring stars so that the atmosphere's refraction, common to them all, cancels. It does not cancel. Refraction changes across the field, so a square patch of sky seventy degrees from the zenith is imaged squashed by a few parts in a thousand — and stars of different colour are moved by different amounts, by more than the parallaxes being measured.

Rays that follow the curve of the Earth. Rays of light leaving an observer five metres above a cold surface at elevations between −0.2° and +0.45°, traced through an atmosphere whose lowest 150 metres warm upwards by 0.15 K per metre, drawn as height above the ground against distance along it — so the Earth's curvature has been removed and a ray that follows the curve runs flat. Rays that start downwards or only slightly upwards are bent back by the inversion before they can leave it, glance off the surface, and are guided along the layer in shallow hops: 5 of the 8 traced remain inside it for the whole 300 km. Only the steeper rays escape upwards. Traced backwards, the trapped rays are lines of sight: an observer inside the duct sees objects hundreds of kilometres away that lie far below the geometric horizon, lifted into view. The observed sky

An atmosphere that bends light round the Earth

A horizontal ray of light curves towards denser air, and in an ordinary atmosphere it curves at a fifth of the rate the ground falls away. Put eleven degrees of warmer air above every hundred metres of cold air over sea ice and the ray curves as fast as the Earth does. It follows the curve, and a Sun five degrees below the horizon rises two weeks early.

One setting Sun drawn through a layer of warm air. The apparent shape of the Sun at five moments of its setting, seen from 20 m above the sea through an atmosphere with an inversion — 0.15 K per metre over 40 m starting 30 m up — computed by tracing rays from the observer out through the layer and mapping each apparent elevation back to the point of the solar disc it came from. The true elevation of the Sun's centre is given under each panel; the dotted outline is the Sun as a standard atmosphere would show it at the same moment, where it is above the sea horizon at all. The layer does not merely flatten the disc: it cuts it into two separate strips at some moments, stacks an inverted image above the upright one, and draws a thin neck between them, because each strip of apparent elevation maps to a strip of the true disc through a curve that folds. The shapes have been recorded for centuries — the Etruscan vase, the omega, the flattened stack — and each is a picture of the transfer curve for the air that night. The observed sky

A sunset's shape is a sounding of the air

A layer of warm air over a cold sea bends the rays of the setting Sun into shapes — a flattened stack, an inverted copy balanced on the upright one, a vase with a thin neck — and every shape is a drawing of one curve: the map from where light appears to come from to where it really came from. Run backwards, the curve is a temperature profile. It can be read, but only for the lowest air, only from a known height, and only up to a trade between how strong the warm layer was and how thick.

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