Something I've found in life is that everyone eventually settles on a passion.

Whether it's a professional hobby, lifelong or found, people seem to find something they click with.

I've had a childhood friend that adored trains grow up to become a conductor, and I've seen family friends in their 40s try and woodwork for the first time in their life in getting hooked. For me, I knew my passion since I was a teen. For the longest time, I've been

heavy into astronomy. No, not reading horoscopes. I love to observe the night sky.

I wouldn't say I'm as detail oriented as some of the more deeper enthusiasts or as planned out as the professionals.

I mostly pick and choose what I'd want to observe for a period and make handwritten notes on what I'd find.

I splashed out on one of the best home compound telescopes I could afford.

It cost a pretty penny, but going from a cheap refractoscope to this one was the difference between night and day.

No pun intended.

I have an entire book shelf full of old journals dating back the many years I've been doing this.

Some as far back as when I was a teen in the garden with my dad's binoculars.

Notes of the various constellations I've come to admire, my favorite being the Vasa constellation,

Junitive Ferinay. It's a beautiful set of stars with a number of smaller

constellations that made up the formation of a powerful light tower.

When I wasn't looking at the stars, I enjoyed appreciating the cycles of the moon, and this

is where the mess began. I was documenting the moon cycle, something I kept up with on nights

when the stars were less visible. The sky was circling with clouds, so I focused on the beaming full moon above.

It was beautiful.

I took note to the position, size, and other bits of data I felt important.

Yet something was annoyingly off.

On the left edge of the moon there was a slight blurred taper.

No amount of adjusting my settings seemed to fix it.

...