Full moon before CNY

I woke up at five. Needed the washroom, but what pulled me out of bed was the light. It was coming in at a different angle, not the usual street lamp glow. This light was cooler, cleaner. I looked out the window and there it was, a brilliant moon hanging low in the sky. The full moon. The last full moon before Chinese New Year.

I went downstairs with the camera, wanting to see it properly from outside the house. No clouds, no haze. Just a clean, round moon, and the moonlight making the night brighter than usual. According to the almanac, the exact moment of full moon, when it would be perfectly round and 100 percent illuminated, was at 6.09 am. I was already wide awake by then, so I waited it out.

This is the result at that exact moment. A photograph of the full moon on the 15th day of the Chinese 12th lunar month. In two days it will be Li Chun, or Jip Chun to us Penang Hokkien folk; and in 14 days time, it shall be Chinese New Year. 

Jupiter's moons

I’m still quite thrilled from the night-sky photography I managed tonight with my Olympus. I stepped outside just to have a look at the moon. With the full moon due next Tuesday, it was already about 93 percent illuminated, blazing away in the sky. Normally that kind of brightness, plus light pollution, would wipe out almost everything else, but there it was: a sharp point of light nearby that could only be Jupiter.

Getting a photo of it was another matter. I had to handhold the camera and drop the shutter speed to a risky one-fifth of a second. Most of the shots were a mess, either blurred or streaky beyond saving, and I was close to giving up. But one frame survived. When I pulled it up on the computer, I honestly couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was better than anything I’d managed in all my previous attempts over the years. Sharp and without any streaky lines. I could clearly make out the four Galilean moons. A quick check online confirmed their positions relative to Jupiter, and that was the moment it really sank in.

Speaking of Jupiter, it turns out my timing couldn’t have been better. About 20 days ago, on the 10th of January, the Earth passed directly between the sun and Jupiter. That put the planet at what astronomers call opposition, when it sits opposite the sun in our sky and is at its best for observation. In fact, Jupiter was actually closest to Earth a day earlier, on the ninth of January, at a distance of about 633 million kilometres. At opposition it was shining away at magnitude –2.7, the fourth brightest object in the sky after the sun, moon and Venus. But with Venus tucked behind the sun in mid-January, Jupiter has effectively been the brightest starlike object in the night sky for weeks now, visible for much of the night. Given that Jupiter takes almost 12 Earth years to complete one orbit of the sun, this kind of alignment only comes around roughly every 13 months. The next one won’t be until 10 February 2027, which makes nights like this feel a bit more special.

January's supermoon

A wonderful sight last night. Managed to capture the super full moon and the remarkably bright planet Jupiter within the same frame. At magnitude –2.7, Jupiter was so bright that it could be seen with the naked eye despite the moon’s overwhelming brilliance. I took the first image with my Olympus camera at 11.10pm, with the moon 99.8 percent illuminated. The second image focused solely on the full moon itself: perfectly round, steady and absolutely breath-taking!

This endless road

From schooldays, we were taught the familiar picture: the planets revolve around a stationary Sun, following orbits that are technically elliptical but, for most of them, close enough to circular. The moons, in turn, circle their parent planets. It was a simple, elegant model and for a long time, many of us assumed the entire solar system sat more or less fixed in the sky, unmoving except for the planets tracing their slow, predictable paths around the Sun.

Only much later, over the past three decades or so, did I begin to appreciate that this picture is incomplete. From the perspective of Earth, we look stationary except for our daily rotation that gives us day and night. The other planets spin too, each in their own way, and because everything seems regular and orderly, it’s easy to imagine the whole system as a stable “clockwork” floating in place.

But in reality, the solar system itself is on the move. The Sun and its planets are orbiting the centre of the Milky Way, completing one galactic circuit roughly every 230 million years. Once you take this into account, a very different image emerges: the planets are not moving in flat circles, but in long, elegant corkscrew paths as they follow the Sun on its galactic journey.

This can be a difficult concept to picture, so I was very happy to come across a computer-generated simulation by amateur astronomer Tony Dunn. His visualisation, covering a hypothetical 20-year period from a vantage point more than 50 astronomical units away, shows the sweeping arcs of Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto, while the inner planets appear as tight, rapid spirals so quick that labelling them clearly becomes impossible. Still, one can roughly identify them: grey for Mercury, light yellow for Venus, light blue for Earth and orange for Mars.

And all of this is happening at astonishing speeds. Our solar system races through the galaxy at about 230 kilometres per second or around 830,000 kilometres per hour. Meanwhile, the Milky Way itself is moving through the universe at an estimated 2.3 million kilometres per hour. As for the centre of the universe, no one knows where that might be, or whether such a centre even exists in any meaningful way.

What we do know is this: we are not standing still in space. Far from it. We are passengers on a vast journey, carried through the galaxy without ever sensing the motion. And this, in its own quiet way, echoes the Buddha’s reminder that nothing in existence is ever fixed. All things arise, change and pass away. Our lives unfold in the same manner: we board the bus of life, ride for a time and eventually step off, while new passengers climb aboard. The bus keeps moving, just as the universe keeps turning, indifferent to who comes and goes.

To reflect on this is to see the nature of samsara laid bare. A constant movement, a constant becoming. It is humbling, but also gently liberating. In a cosmos that never stops, the only true stillness is the one we cultivate within, moment by moment, as we travel together on this endless road.

Birthday moon

When I was out admiring the super full moon on the night of my birthday two days ago, I couldn’t help but wonder why the Americans and Europeans had special names for each full moon in their skies. For example, this November full moon is known to the Americans as the Beaver Moon. It’s also called the Frost Moon, while the Europeans sometimes refer to it as the Fog Moon.

Over Bukit Mertajam, though, the full moon on this fifth of November wasn’t exactly brilliant. The rainy weather dimmed its glow, leaving it soft-edged and slightly veiled. Still, it was bright enough for me to take a satisfactory snapshot, my quiet keepsake on my birthday night.

Super full moons usually come in a set of three. Three consecutive full moons that appear a little larger and brighter than usual because the moon is at its closest point to Earth. This November full moon happens to be the second in the trio. The first was last month’s Mid-Autumn Festival moon, and the third will rise on the fourth of December.

Exposure: ISO 1250, f7.1, 1/200s

Exposure: ISO 1250, f7.1, 1/800s

Super full moon 2025

There have been quite some excitement among my friends that there would be a super-full moon today. They got all flustered up, thinking this was some rare celestial event happening. Actually, this phenomenon isn’t some rare cosmic miracle, but it always feels that way when we see one. It happens when the moon is full and coincidentally also at its closest point to Earth in its monthly orbit. Because the moon doesn’t travel in a perfect circle but in a slightly squashed ellipse, there are times when it swings a bit nearer to us. When that happens during a full moon, it looks noticeably larger and brighter than usual. 

Image by Kenj Ooi
from Penang Walkabouts facebook 

It is most noticeable when it first rises above the horizon, glowing low and heavy, almost too big for the sky. That’s partly an optical trick of the mind, but also the real effect of it being closer. The difference is only a few tens of thousands of kilometres, but that’s enough to give the moon a fullness and brilliance that photographs never quite capture. A super full moon, in other words, is the same familiar moon which is just a little nearer to us.

Super full moons usually come in a trio, over three consecutive months. So if we miss the first one, there are still two more chances to catch the others. For 2025, the super full moons will occur today at 11.47am, then on the fifth of November at 9.19pm and again on the fifth of December at 7.14am. Of course, in daylight we won’t see the October and December ones at their peak, but it’s comforting to know they’re there all the same.

Last night, being the fifteenth day of the eighth Chinese lunar month, I tried looking for the moon around 8.30pm, but thick clouds had covered the sky. At best, I could make out a faint brightness behind the haze. Even at 11.30pm, the situation wasn't any better. Then, quite unexpectedly, I woke around four in the morning and, unable to fall back asleep, stepped outside with my camera. The sky was perfectly clear, no cloud in sight, and there it was in the western sky — a brilliant orb of light. The super full moon in all its glory, shining at 99.8 percent illumination. As close as I could get, this time, to capturing the beauty of the October supermoon.

Welcome sight

What a welcome sight! Last night's full moon at 10.03pm. I had thought that I would miss seeing the full moon again as I was at the Berjaya Penang Hotel where the window looked out in a different direction from the moon's current path in the sky. But now that I'm home, wow!

Awaiting discovery

Way back in the 1960s—most likely 1964—my father brought home two slim softcover books for me, part of the Life Nature Library series. One was The Sea and the other, The Universe. Looking back now, those two books probably did more to shape my interests than anything else I read in childhood. At first, it was the colour pages that drew me in; pages of colour and information. For a boy growing up at No. 10 Seang Tek Road, where everything felt familiar and enclosed, these pages opened windows to unimaginable worlds—deep beneath the oceans and high into the stars. I still remember leafing through The Universe, wide-eyed, barely able to pronounce "nebula" or "quasar", but completely captivated all the same.

Once I began reading them properly, page by page, I realised what a treasure they held. The Universe in particular fascinated me. It gave names to things I could only dream of: galaxies, moons, planets and stars—some so far away their light had travelled millions of years to reach us. I dreamt of one day owning a telescope, of pointing it to the skies and tracing Saturn’s rings with my own eyes. And though I never did get that telescope, my fascination with the night sky never left me. The photos I take of the moon these days say as much, even if I don't always put it into words.

That childhood interest has stayed with me. Over the years, I've kept up with the big stories in space exploration. I followed Hubble’s incredible images, celebrated the James Webb’s first light, marvelled at China’s moon landings, the Mars rovers, Cassini probes and the two Voyager spacecraft billions of miles from us, Most recently, found myself once again pulled into the mystery of our own solar system—specifically, the search for the elusive Planet Nine. Does such a planet even exist?

It all started with Pluto. Discovered in 1930 by Clyde Tombaugh, Pluto reigned for decades as the ninth planet until it was quietly demoted to a “dwarf planet” in 2006. It didn’t make sense to call it a planet anymore, not when so many other icy worlds had been found nearby in what we now call the Kuiper Belt.

But then astronomers noticed something odd. Certain distant objects in the Kuiper Belt weren’t behaving as expected. Their orbits were strangely aligned—as though something massive, something unseen, was tugging at them. In 2016, Caltech astronomers Mike Brown and Konstantin Batygin proposed a new theory: perhaps there was a giant planet hiding far beyond Neptune. A real ninth planet. Not a Pluto-sized rock, but something 10 times the mass of Earth, orbiting so far out that it would take up to 20,000 years to complete just one trip around the sun.

They called it Planet Nine. And now, for the first time, we may have actually seen it.

A team of astronomers led by Terry Long Phan at National Tsing Hua University in Taiwan went digging through old infrared survey data—specifically from IRAS in 1983 and AKARI in 2006. They found something. A faint object that appeared in both sets of data, separated by 23 years, and had moved just enough to suggest it was orbiting our sun from an estimated distance of 700 AU. For reference, Neptune sits at 30 AU. This thing—if it is what they think—is more than 65 billion miles from the sun.

Most previous Planet Nine candidates vanished just as quickly as they were spotted. This one stands out because it appears in two different surveys, taken more than two decades apart. That consistency matters in astronomy.

Some experts remain cautious. Even Mike Brown, the same Brown who helped demote Pluto and proposed Planet Nine, says the object’s path might not quite match his model. But the new team is urging follow-up observations with large-field telescopes like the Dark Energy Camera in Chile or the upcoming Vera C. Rubin Observatory. If confirmed, this planet would not only be real, but possibly more massive than Neptune.

And the big question remains: how did it get there? Was it a fifth gas giant thrown out by Jupiter billions of years ago? Or a rogue planet, captured from another star system in the sun’s youth? Either way, it could change our understanding of how the solar system formed—and how common such distant giants might be in the rest of the galaxy.

So here I am, 60 years after those first books sparked my curiosity, still looking at the sky, still following the stories. Still waiting for someone to find the ninth planet. It might be out there. And we might be just days—or decades—away from finally confirming it.

The crescent moon

Two mornings before the new moon. In practical terms, from my neighbourhood’s perspective, this is the last chance to spot the crescent moon before the morning light overwhelms it. At this stage, the 8.5 percent illuminated crescent is still at a decent height, but by tomorrow, it’ll be too low in the dawn sky to be noticed. So today, with fine morning weather, I woke up early, crept out of the house, and was rewarded with the sight of a thin crescent just above my rooftop.

By the way, the new moon falls on Saturday, and this one holds particular significance for Muslims. It’s an old ritual—specially appointed observers will be scanning the sunset sky with their telescopes and equipment, hoping to spot it. If successful, Hari Raya Aidilfitri will be on Sunday. If not, then Monday it will be. That said, traditional moon sightings have largely been supplanted by modern astronomical calculations. According to the public calendars, the Government has already determined that Hari Raya will fall on Monday.

I hear, too, that on Saturday, people in North America will witness a partial solar eclipse. Nothing for us to see in South-east Asia, though.

Brilliant full moon

It was supposed to be the night of a total lunar eclipse, but unfortunately, not in my part of the world. So there wasn’t much to get excited about last night, especially since it was also raining quite consistently. Still, when I woke up early this morning, intending to sweep the fallen Tacoma flowers from the front of the house, I opened the door to a breathtaking sight—a brilliantly lit full moon in my face, still hanging low in the sky. It seemed to beckon me to rush for my camera. At 6.20am, the moon was 99.9 percent illuminated, with the exact full moon still some 8½ hours away…

Now, really 100 percent!

I was at Nandaka Vihara tonight, celebrating chap goh meh over dinner with the committee members and other volunteers. As we left, instinctively, I turned my head to search for the full moon. And there it was—a 100 percent illuminated at 9:17pm, shining brightly and clearly. A few others joined me, pausing to marvel at its brilliance, gasping in sheer wonder.

Moon reaching 100%

The full moon at 9:17pm tonight—illuminated at 99.1%. Technically in exactly 24 hours, it’ll attain 100%, the true Chap Goh Meh moon in all its splendour. But for now, the view will have to wait—I’ve no idea what the weather will be like tonight.

Fisheye

The main advantage of owning a DSLR—or even a micro four-thirds camera—is the ability to use interchangeable lenses to suit different occasions. The main disadvantage, however, is not having enough of them! Heck, I don’t even own a prime lens. I mainly rely on the two zoom kit lenses that came with the camera, and I do struggle with them at times. I’d love to have more, but at my age, it’s madness to spend on nice-to-haves rather than must-haves. That said, I do own an 8mm fisheye lens—more of a novelty than a serious tool.

I mention this because last night, in sheer frustration, I found myself struggling with my 14-40mm zoom kit lens. It simply refused to focus when aimed at the dark sky—lacking contrast, it couldn’t lock onto anything. I wanted to capture the moon, Venus, and Jupiter, which spanned a wide section of the sky, requiring multiple shots to stitch together. Out of desperation, I swapped in the fisheye lens and hoped for the best. And what do you know? It worked! Despite the gross distortion, I managed to capture the sky from west to overhead, and there they were—Venus, the moon, and Jupiter, perfectly aligned!

Venus and the moon

This picture was taken with my mobile phone. I hadn’t planned on looking up at the sky from my son’s place in Tanjong Bungah yesterday at about 8.45pm, but when I inadvertently did, I was pleasantly surprised. 

The crescent moon seemed to be chasing the brilliant Venus across the western sky. It wasn’t my best shot, but it captured the moment well enough. 

Directly overhead, Jupiter stood steadfast, while a reddish Mars shone quietly down on me.

 

Rabbit or goddess?

Last night, I stepped outdoors to admire the moon and found myself imagining both the Moon Rabbit and the Moon Goddess gracing its surface. On full moon nights, if you look at the moon at different times—say, at 8pm and again at 4am—you’ll notice something fascinating. The moon seems to have turned on its head. Before midnight, you can discern the rabbit, while after midnight, the goddess reveals herself.

The Moon Rabbit and the Moon Goddess are two of the most beloved figures in Chinese mythology, their tales intricately intertwined. The Moon Goddess, Chang'e, is a figure of grace and longing, and it is no coincidence that China chose her name to represent their ambitious space programmes—a fitting homage to this celestial legend.

The story of Chang'e begins with her husband, Hou Yi, a legendary archer renowned for his unparalleled skill. Hou Yi became a hero when he shot down nine of the ten suns that scorched the earth, thus sparing the world from devastation. As a reward for his heroic deed, the Queen Mother of the West gifted him an elixir of immortality. But Hou Yi, not wanting to ascend to immortality alone, planned to share the elixir with Chang'e so they could live forever together.

Fate, however, had other plans. One day, while Hou Yi was away, a treacherous apprentice named Peng Meng tried to steal the elixir. To protect it from falling into the wrong hands, Chang'e drank the elixir herself. Upon consuming it, she was lifted into the sky and ascended to the moon, where she remains to this day, an immortal figure of grace and longing, gazing wistfully at the earth she left behind.

Chang'e is not entirely alone on the moon. She is accompanied by the Moon Rabbit, often called the Jade Rabbit, a loyal companion. The rabbit is frequently depicted pounding ingredients with a mortar and pestle, said to be preparing the elixir of immortality for Chang'e or perhaps medicine for mortals. Some even imagine it crafting mooncakes, the traditional delicacy of the Mid-Autumn Festival.

The origins of the Moon Rabbit are equally charming. One popular tale tells of a rabbit that offered itself as food to a beggar who was, in reality, the Jade Emperor in disguise. Touched by its selflessness, the Jade Emperor placed the rabbit on the moon as an eternal reward. Others suggest the rabbit’s myth stems from the dark markings on the moon, which resemble the silhouette of a rabbit, sparking imaginations and giving birth to the legend.

Together, Chang'e and the Moon Rabbit are central to the Mid-Autumn Festival, celebrated on the 15th day of the eighth Chinese lunar month. In the past, families gathered for prayers to the full moon, savour mooncakes and recount these timeless tales. Chang'e symbolises beauty, grace and the bittersweet nature of longing, while the Moon Rabbit represents purity, selflessness and healing. Their stories evoke a sense of wonder and connection to the moon, inspiring countless poems, artworks and traditions over the centuries.

Pre-CNY full moon

The first full moon of 2025, illuminated at 99.7 percent, as seen from my home in Bukit Mertajam. After days of cloudiness, the sky was kind enough to clear up last night. The full moon broke through the clouds and shone brightly. I first noticed it around 7.20pm while out walking through the neighbourhood, but unfortunately, I didn’t have my camera with me. It would have made for a beautiful shot, with the sky still light enough to serve as a backdrop. By the time I remembered my camera, it was 8.30pm, and the night had already set in.

Overhead, Jupiter was visible, but try as I might, I couldn’t capture the planet along with its four Galilean moons.

Interestingly, the full moon reached 100 percent illumination in the early hours of today, the 15th day of the Chinese lunar month. This timing, rather than it occurring tonight or even tomorrow, indicates that this year’s 12th Chinese lunar month will only have 29 days instead of 30. This means that Chinese New Year will fall on 29 January 2025, with the eve of the celebration—what we Hokkien people in Penang call jee-kow meh (29th night)—falling on that same date, rather than sah-chhap meh (30th night).

December full moon

At last, the full moon—99.8% illuminated—emerges above Bukit Mertajam, breaking free after weeks of hiding behind the rain clouds! The sky is so crystal-clear tonight that Venus shines brilliantly high in the western sky, while Jupiter quietly peeks above my rooftop in the east.

Almost round

According to the Chinese lunar calendar, today is the 14th day of the ninth lunar month. Tomorrow will be the 15th day. Two aspects to note about the moon tonight. Firstly, it is supposed to be one of the brightest full moons this year as its supermoon status means that it is closer to the earth than usual. Secondly, it is already almost fully round, but it is only 98.7 percent illuminated. With the weather being so unpredictable, I cannot take the chance that I can see the full moon clearly enough tomorrow. So there I was, standing outside the house with my camera at 10 o'clock to capture this picture. It's given the name of Hunter's Moon because it is the hunting season in the northern hemisphere. 

[Thursday's update] Just as I feared, the weather wasn't great on Thursday evening. Cloudy most of the night. I did happen to see the full moon at nine o'clock—100 percent illuminated—but the edges were rather hazy, lacking clear definition due to the cloud cover. (See the second picture below.) But it turned out worse about an hour later. The cloud cover thickened considerably and with that, the whole moon vanished from sight. 

Wednesday night's moon

 

Thursday night's moon

Jupiter's Galilean moons

I took this picture very early in the morning on the first of September, four days ago. I had stepped outside to catch a glimpse of the waning moon when I happened to look directly upwards at a bright spot of light. I thought it might be Jupiter, but I wasn't certain at the time. To confirm, I aimed my camera at it and took about 10 shots, all handheld, with nothing to brace against to steady my hands. To make matters trickier, I had to slow the shutter speed down to one-fifth of a second because of the darkness. Unsurprisingly, most of my attempts resulted in streaky lines going in every direction. Still, I managed to salvage one from the bunch. As they say, it was the best of a bad lot. There is still a bit of camera shake, but overall, Jupiter looks round enough to me. As for the Galilean moons, well, not so much. I suspect this was because the sun wasn't shining directly on Jupiter or its moons but rather at an angle, similar to how our own moon appears when it’s waxing or waning. That's just my theory, of course — I could be entirely wrong, and it might simply be down to… camera shake. From top left to bottom right, the Galilean moons are Callisto, Ganymede, Io, and Europa. That much, at least, I'm sure of.

Crescent moon

I inexplicably woke up at 6:20 am today and couldn’t get back to sleep. Suddenly realised that the new Chinese eighth lunar month is just two days away. So, I grabbed my camera and headed outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the waning moon in the dawn light. With the recent rainy weather and thick clouds hanging around, it seemed a long shot. But luck was on my side—I spotted the thin crescent moon, only a mere 4.3 percent illuminated, hanging low in the brightening sky and peeking through the clouds. Only this shot, one of four I took, turned out sharp enough, though it was not the sharpest I wanted. Anyhow, it could have been worst, considering it was handheld at a shutter speed of one-fifth of a second.