Sky & Telescope’s Sky Tour Podcast — August 2026

This episode is sponsored by Celestron, manufacturer of high-quality telescopes and an industry leader in developing exciting optical products with revolutionary technologies. I'm Kelly Beatty of Sky and Telescope magazine and tonight we're going on the tour of the stars and planets that you'll see overhead during August. This month we've got three big celestial events to cover. Eclipses of the sun and moon and especially good prospects for the Perseid meteor shower. Plus we'll track down a few planets and gaze at the center of our galaxy. So load up on the bug juice and come along on this month's sky tour. Let's start with the moon's whereabouts this month because knowing when its phases happen will be key to watching those eclipses. The month opens with the moon three days past full and not rising until late evening. Last quarter comes on the night of August 5th followed by the new moon on the 12th. First quarter is a week later on the 19th followed by full moon on the 27th. Native Americans knew this as the full sturgeon moon named after a freshwater fish that's found in lakes and rivers in North America. But it's also known as the barley moon, grain moon or fruit moon. Hey have you ever wondered why full moons have names but new moons don't? We say the moon is new when it passes between earth and the sun. Around those times it gets thinner and harder to spot in the twilight glare before dawn and then just disappears from view for a couple of days before emerging in the evening sky. So since we can't see the moon when it's new I guess there's no point in giving it distinctive nicknames each month. Or we could start a new trend for those unseen phases the not there moon or black as coal moon and so forth. Have some fun with that and please let's avoid the clickbait that alerts you to super moons, which I'm no fan of anyway, that happen at new moon when of course it's hopelessly invisible. Let's go back to that new moon on August 12th. This one is special because it occurs just when moon is at the intersection point between its orbit and the earth's, what's called a nodal crossing. That's fancy talk meaning an eclipse of the sun will occur that day. And this will be a total solar eclipse, the first one in nearly two and a half years. The shadow of the moon will race across our planet along a path that starts in the arctic and stretches down into the Atlantic Ocean, clipping Greenland and Iceland before passing right across Spain. Only along this path, no wider than about 180 miles, can someone witness the complete disappearance of the sun behind the lunar disk. So not surprisingly, eclipse junkies from around the world are traveling to see this celestial spectacle, especially to Spain. That's where I'll be along with 80 excited eclipse watchers on a sky and telescope tour. Totality won't last very long, no more than 2 minutes 18 seconds at most, but what it lacks in duration, it'll more than make up for with an exciting geometry. As seen from Spain, the totally eclipsed sun will be a hovering just a few degrees above the horizon, with the moon's shadow very obviously surrounding it like an ominous dark cloud to the left and right. Now if you're not heading to Spain that day, don't fret, because you'll be able to watch the event virtually thanks to several live webcasts of the event. On eclipse day, you'll be able to find a full list at skyandtelescope.org. Besides, a wide swath of our planet will experience a partial solar eclipse that day, observable across Western Europe, all of Canada and the Northeast United States. From Boston, for example, the moon will cover about a sixth of the sun's disk at mid-eclipse. That's not particularly deep, but it serves as the warm-up act for another amazing celestial event just two weeks later. Solar eclipses always occur at new moons, and it's not uncommon to get a lunar eclipse during the full moon that occurs two weeks before or after that. And so their roles will be reversed on the night of August 27th and 28th, when the moon slides deeply into Earth's shadow. This isn't a total lunar eclipse, but it will be pretty close, with 96% of the lunar disk plunged into darkness. What little remains in sunlight will be draped across the top of the moon like a skinny white cap, while the rest of it will take on dark coppery hues caused by a bit of sunlight sneaking around Earth through its atmosphere and onto the moon. And here's the good news. Everyone in the Americas, North and South, get to see this cover-up, weather permitting, of course. The partial eclipse takes about three and a half hours from beginning to end, starting on the evening of the 27th. By the time the moon is covered the most, it'll be 9.13 p.m. on the West Coast and 12.13 a.m. just past midnight on the 28th on the East Coast. Enjoy this one if you can, because the next completely total lunar eclipse won't occur until New Year's Eve in 2028. The third boffo night sky event involves the Perseid Meteor Shower, which this year will be pretty much as good as it gets. The Perseids have a fairly sharp peak, which is forecast for the night of August 12th and the pre-dawn hours of the 13th. Start looking fairly soon after sunset, as early as 9 p.m., once the constellation of Perseus rises over the northeastern horizon. That's where this shower gets its name. These meteors seem to radiate from a point in the sky in this constellation. But here's a tip. The later you stay up, the more meteors you'll see as Earth rotates and Perseus climbs higher into the sky. Now, you clever sky tour regulars have surely noticed that the Perseids will peak the same day as the solar eclipse, which of course must occur at New Moon. So that guarantees that you won't be bothered by moonlight as you watch for these meteoric bits of rock flashing across the sky. Under clear, dark conditions, you might see up to 100 Perseids per hour. But since most of us live with some degree of light pollution, 50 per hour is a more realistic expectation. Still, that's one meteor every minute or so. Your odds will improve if you can get away from any lights in your immediate vicinity, so that your eyes can adjust to darkness more fully. Leaving the porch light on does not help. And the best direction to look isn't toward Perseus, but instead toward whatever part of the sky overhead looks darkest. For a long time, nobody knew what the Perseids were. Some Catholics believed that these meteors were the burning tears of St. Lawrence, who was martyred on August 10th in the year 258. Fast forward to 1837, when a Connecticut bookstore clerk named Edward Herrick saw lots of meteors on the night of August 9th, and he later concluded that they occur every year on the same date. Meanwhile, in Cincinnati, it turns out that John Locke, the headmaster of a girls' school, had reached the same conclusion three years earlier. In any case, we know that the Perseid meteors are bits of debris shed by a comet called Swift-Tuttle. Earth passes very near the comet's orbit every August, and that's when tiny particles of comet dust, most the size of sand grains, slam into our atmosphere at 37 miles per second. All of this happens quite high above us, about 60 miles up. Each incoming particle compresses the air in front of it, like the water just ahead of a speedboat, creating a white-hot shockwave along its path. The flash of light our eyes see is that brief but brilliant shockwave, not the particle itself burning up. I haven't mentioned any planets yet, have I? Well, after darkness falls, you can't miss brilliant Venus low in the West. Now, Venus circles the Sun in just 225 days, in an orbit quite a bit closer to the Sun than Earth's. So, from here, we see Venus slowly sliding from one side of the Sun to the other, alternately showing up in the evening sky after sunset, and then the morning sky before sunrise. During August, Venus dips a little closer to the western horizon week by week. See if you notice any change throughout the month. One other planet is about to make its entrance into the evening sky, and that's Saturn, but you'll have to be patient to see it. This beautiful ringed planet doesn't clear the eastern horizon until about 11 p.m. in early August, but it'll pop into view by 9 p.m. at Monsanto. To help you spot it, the Moon is not far from Meanwhile, you can catch glimpses of Mercury, Mars, and Jupiter too, but you'll have to get up before dawn to see them. Jupiter and Mercury, our solar system's biggest and smallest planets, will appear just a half a degree apart on the morning of August 15th. Look for them about 30 minutes before sunrise, very low in the East. Mars is much higher in the pre-dawn sky, to their upper right. Okay, let's do some stargazing. Turn toward south soon after nightfall and look for a fairly bright star not far above the southern horizon. That's Antares. It represents the heart of Scorpius, a nasty critter whose head is marked by a vertical arc of three medium bright stars a little to the right. In the northern hemisphere, the closer you live to the equator, the higher up you'll see the Those of you in southern states like Texas and Florida have much better views than I do way up here in Massachusetts. And from countries like Chile and Australia in the southern hemisphere, Scorpius appears directly overhead this time of year. Now shift your gaze to the left of Antares by about three times the width of your clenched fist held at arm's length. You're looking for a of eight medium bright stars in the shape of a teapot. The handle is on the left and the spout, tipped down a bit, is on the right. Got it? The whole thing is about the size of your clenched fist. From northern US states and Europe, the teapot is only one or two fists above the horizon, so it helps if you look from a spot with a clear, unobstructed view toward south. Now when astronomers carved up the sky, they didn't call this the teapot constellation. Instead, you've found the main stars of the constellation Sagittarius, a mythological archer who is half man and half horse. And you're also looking toward the center of our home galaxy, a mere 26,000 light years away. If you're lucky enough to live where the sky is really dark, or if you happen to be on vacation in a rural setting, you'll see what look like puffs of steam rising from the spout. Those puffs are the countless stars of the Milky Way, which continue upward until they arch overhead and clear across the summer sky. And if you're unlucky enough to live where light pollution is rampant, which is most of us, you can't see the Milky Way at all. In fact, ask yourself, have you ever seen the Milky Way in all its glory? If not, you really owe it to yourself to get out under a clear, deep black sky this time of year to see all those stars arcing across the sky like a great river of light. It's a sight you won't soon forget. Raise your gaze upward from Antares to overhead and check out the three stars of the summer triangle. Altair is farthest south, Deneb farthest north, and Vega, the brightest of the three, in between and somewhat west of the other two. Now slide your gaze farther past overhead so that you're facing roughly north. As evening twilight fades, you'll see the Big Dipper hanging from its handle about halfway up the sky. At the end of the handle are four stars forming its bowl. Your outstretched fist will just about cover the bowl. Draw an imaginary line through the bottom pair of stars and follow it up and to the right by about three fists until you reach a single medium bright star. That's the north star, called Polaris, and you're now looking due north. Now go back to the Dipper and this time follow the arc of its handle to the left until, three fists away, you come to a bright star perched high over the western horizon, well above Venus. That's Arcturus, the fourth brightest star in the nighttime sky. As stars go, this one is a fair amount bigger and brighter than our own sun and it's relatively close by, just 37 light years away. Arcturus is a Greek name meaning the constellation Ursa Major, which includes the Big Dipper. It's also the alpha star in the constellation Boötes, the Plowman. Let's say that one together, Boötes. Got it? It's from the Greek words for plow and ox. The main stars of Boötes form a skinny kite-shaped pattern, about two fists tall, that stretches to the upper right from Arcturus, which sits at the kite's bottom. Now look just to the kite's upper left, two fists directly above Arcturus. You're looking for a semicircle of stars, kind of shaped like a cup with no handle. This is a small compact constellation called Corona Borealis, the Northern Crown. You'll need a pretty dark sky to see the entire arc, though there is a medium bright star near its midpoint. That star is named Alfeca, which is And you might wonder whether there's a southern counterpart called Corona Australis. Why yes, there is, directly below the teapot of Sagittarius. But all of its stars are pretty faint, so don't be disappointed if you can't see it. That's about it for this month. If you want more tips for viewing the night sky, check out Sky at a Glance on our website skyandtelescope.org, which offers great star and planet gazing activities on a day-by-day basis. If you haven't already subscribed, you can find this Sky Tour on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever you listen. And if you've enjoyed this episode, leave a rating or a review. It'll help others to find us. And if you want to explore the solar system and universe more deeply, please do check out the full line of binoculars and telescopes available at celestron.com. Sky Tour is a production of Sky & Telescope, a division of the American Astronomical Society, and it's produced by me, Kelly Beattie. Join me next month when we'll go exploring in and around the Summer Triangle. Until then, I wish you clear skies.