Moon

Cosmic rays aren't rays in the usual sense: they're fast particles bombarding Earth from all directions. Mostly they're protons and atomic nuclei. Their energies vary widely, from modest to fantastically huge. When such a particle heads our way and the Moon or Sun gets in its path, it gets absorbed.

The birth of a moon is a cosmic car crash. Two young planets collide, and a cloud of scorching debris swirls around the surviving world. From this disk, like clay on a potter's wheel, a satellite gradually takes shape. That's probably how our Moon came to be.

Cosmic rays aren't rays in the usual sense: they're fast particles bombarding Earth from all directions. Mostly they're protons and atomic nuclei. Their energies vary widely, from modest to fantastically huge. When such a particle heads our way and the Moon or Sun gets in its path, it gets absorbed.

The Moon is an airless sphere of dense rocky grit called regolith. When fast particles from space slam into it, muons are born in the soil — unstable relatives of electrons, but two hundred times heavier. Most fly downward and fade away in the depths. But those that pop upward into the vacuum can travel tens of kilometers before decaying.

The gravitational dances of celestial bodies long remained silent to astronomers. We learned to catch the shadows of planets against stars with the transit method — a breakthrough that delivered thousands of worlds thanks to William Borucki and his Kepler telescope.

Dwarf galaxies orbiting the Milky Way look as if they’ve survived a gravitational storm. Their stellar bodies are stretched, scattered by tidal tails, and heated from within.

For almost a century, seismology has been the planet’s chief X-ray, probing the interior through elastic waves. But neutrinos, ghost particles predicted by Wolfgang Pauli, offer a different perspective.

The birth of planets resembles the workings of a cosmic forge. Rocky blocks collide and fuse together. A powerful impact strikes a spark — material heats to white-hot and glows like cooling metal. Computer simulations show: the flash is visible from days to years, peaking at a tenth of the sun's light.

The Moon is a natural archive that has been collecting cosmic dust for billions of years. Among the microscopic grains that arrived from distant stars, there could be techno-specks — particles created by alien civilizations.

In the deep oceans of icy moons, water is not still. Warm plumes rise from the rocky seafloor, but the planet's rotation twists them into long, slanted rolls stretched along the rotation axis. Previously, this process could not be included in global models: it was too complex.

Young Earth was a boiling sphere of liquid rock, while Theia, which crashed into it, had had time to cool and solidify. It’s like dropping a chunk of cold butter into a pot of soup: the soup splashes out, but the butter barely moves. Similarly, Earth’s interior spewed into space, forming a cloud of cosmic dust and debris.

In 5 billion years, the Sun, having exhausted its fuel, will start to swell, turning into a red giant. Like a balloon losing air, the star will weaken its gravitational grip, and Earth — a grain of sand on an invisible thread — will drift to a more distant orbit.

Eight hundred million years ago, in the main asteroid belt, a giant inkwell shattered. The parent body, over a hundred kilometers in diameter, made of primitive carbonaceous chondrites, suddenly broke apart near the J3:1 resonance with Jupiter.

Among the hundreds of moons in the Solar System, Nereid dances the most desperate dance: diving toward Neptune as close as 1.4 million kilometers, then soaring away to 9.7 million — all within less than an Earth year. An eccentricity of 0.75 — the brand of a captured wanderer.

Back in the 1960s, physicist Joseph Weber tried to catch gravitational waves using aluminum cylinders: they were supposed to tremble like tuning forks from the ripples of spacetime.

The Moon isn't just hanging in the sky: it leaves behind a long tail of disturbed solar wind. The stream of charged particles from the Sun flows around the rocky sphere, and behind it forms a zone where particles are almost absent. But this emptiness is not simple: electric fields arise in it that push apart the remaining electrons and ions.

A hot skillet on the stove glows in the dark, but if you cover it with a lid, the heat escapes more slowly and the surface doesn't look as bright. That's roughly the situation on planet HD 3167 b: it always shows the same face to its star, and the dayside is heated to temperatures that melt rock.

The light from a distant star is never steady. It shimmers like heat over hot asphalt. When astronomers pointed JWST at the star TOI 700, they saw this shimmer especially clearly: every 16 minutes, the brightness changed by a tiny fraction, just 46 parts per million.For comparison: if you placed a light bulb a kilometer away, this change would be…

Every 1151 years, seven planets of the Solar System, from Mercury to Neptune, find themselves at almost the same points in their orbits. Their positions scatter by less than a degree, as if the celestial mechanism is wound to the same tune. This rhythm was discovered by comparing planetary positions over 2600 years using precise tables of celestial motion.

Europa's surface is an icy armor continuously bombarded by charged particles from Jupiter's magnetosphere. Electrons slam into the ice's crystal lattice, lose energy, and kick off chemical reactions. Until now, there was no tool to show how deep such bombardment pierces the ice.

Around distant icy bodies the size of a city, circling beyond Neptune, rings of dust and ice have been found. Small moons often whirl nearby. Mathematical analysis shows that a moon's gravity rocks the ring like a swing, making it tilt.

Light reflected from a rock carries its composition. Just split that light into colors, like a rainbow, and look carefully for missing shades. That's how hyperspectral imaging works: the camera takes hundreds of pictures of the same spot, each in a very narrow wavelength range. Minerals absorb light differently, and these 'dips' in the spectrum reveal what we're looking at.

Until now, dark energy has been studied like a car engine — only by the acceleration the Universe's expansion gains.

The Sun is not a calm sphere but a boiling cauldron that follows its own rhythms. Roughly every 11 years, its activity peaks: more dark spots appear on its surface, and streams of charged particles fly into space. But hidden within this grand cycle is a shorter one — about 1.7 years.

Saturn's system 300 million years ago resembled a crowded dance floor. The most massive moon, Titan, began to migrate, and this movement threw its neighbors off balance. One moon crashed into Titan; the debris swirled into a vortex, gathering into Hyperion.

At the bottom of lunar craters, where sunlight never reaches, an eternal cold reigns — about minus 240 degrees Celsius. In these icy pockets, known as permanently shadowed regions, plans are underway to install a mirror resonator made of monolithic silicon.

Rogue planets, ejected from star systems, may harbor life on their moons. A moon of such a planet can preserve heat and liquid water for billions of years. The whole secret lies in a reliable "blanket" and an internal "stove." The stove is tidal forces: they squeeze and stretch the moon's interior, heating it up like kneading clay.

Gravitational waves are ripples in spacetime curvature that imperceptibly stretch and squeeze everything around. But the Moon, like a bell, catches these waves: as a gravitational wave passes through it, it makes our satellite vibrate.

Lunar dust looks like gray sand, but there's not a breath of air in it. Oxygen is there — tightly bound in the rocks, like sugar in caramel. To get it out, you need to break chemical bonds, and scientists are looking for the simplest way. In the lab, they took artificial lunar soil made from samples from the Apollo missions and China's Chang'e.

Titan, discovered by Christiaan Huygens in 1655, resembles a canvas that is constantly being repainted. Impacts from cosmic dust and asteroids leave crater marks on it. But an invisible artist, the moon's own forces, time and again covers everything with a fresh layer, erasing old strokes.

For a long time, the climate of ancient Mars remained a mystery: the beds of dried-up rivers spoke of water, but models couldn't explain how it got there — after all, 4 billion years ago the Sun shone 30% dimmer. New research shows that the planet swayed, as if on a swing, between long glaciations and short wet epochs.

An exoplanet — a planet outside our solar system — follows a slightly elongated orbit. With each revolution, it swings closer to its parent star and then farther away.

Sun-like stars rarely spin alone. Many of them dance with invisible partners — brown dwarfs: objects bigger than planets but too lightweight for steady stellar burning. In their cores, hydrogen fusion flickers, only to fade fast, never matching the stability of the Sun.

When countless asteroids pummeled the young Earth, they tore chunks from its mantle. These fragments spiraled in a cosmic disk around the planet and, like a snowball in a blizzard, fused into the Moon.

Lunar rocks brought a puzzle: their age is 4.35 billion years, but the Moon itself should have appeared 150 million years earlier. The missing time is hidden in tidal heating. When the Moon hung closer to Earth, Earth's gravity acted like tireless hands: it constantly kneaded and bent the satellite.

The Moon is not just a rocky sphere, but a giant bell. Passing through it, gravitational waves cause it to vibrate almost imperceptibly. This tremor was predicted by Einstein, and Weber was the first to try to hear it with Earth-based detectors.

The planet's gravity rhythmically squeezes and kneads the moon like dough: from this constant 'kneading', the interior heats up, and oceans of water can persist under the icy crust for ages. In the Galaxy, there are plenty of rogue planets, thrown out by supernova explosions.

After the Moon's birth, Earth resembled a sizzling lump of dough: a continuous liquid magma and a dense shroud of gases. The Moon acted like a giant spoon, constantly kneading this lump with its gravity. Friction generated heat, delaying cooling.

Only by passing in front of a star did Chiron reveal its secret. Three icy hoops encircle the 200-kilometer body — a hybrid of comet and asteroid. Previously, they were only hinted at by spectra of reflected light and brightness fluctuations.

The Moon can have its own tiny moon — like a nesting doll, but in space. The outer doll is a planet, the middle one is a moon, the inner one is a small moon-satellite, or submoon. Ньютон showed that all bodies attract each other, and gravity holds them together.