With Arizona autumn in the air, I drove my 25? Obsession to an isolated meadow 4.5 miles south of the Grand Canyon edge, east of Tusayan, and at 6400? elevation. Friday night was dead calm with a maximum DSQ meter reading of 21.6. Amidst the incessant bellows, shrieks, snorts, and bizarre sounds from elks in the surrounding pines, I resumed my never to be completed observing list until the winter sky was up in full view. Frost covered the top of my eyepiece box as the light of dawn slowly segregated from the intermingled Zodiacal Light and Gemini Milky Way. I woke up in early afternoon to note clouds moving in from the south. By dark, they were horizon to horizon. Not being one inclined to shuttle between hazy sucker holes, I packed up and got home at 2 am this Sunday morning. Several Friday night sights still churn around in my brain this afternoon. First there is the peculiar case of 12th mag galaxy NGC 955. This is a very small edge on, but it packs a wallop. If you imagine shrinking famous NGC 891 down to this size, you would probably just barely see a visible streak. Not so this little sucker. It blazes away, especially its brilliant core. The Sloan photo (http://astronomerica.awardspace.com/SDSS-15/NGC955.php) gives an idea. The dust lane is apparently tilted just enough to allow what must be an incredibly luminous core to peek out. Maybe one of the MOST luminous? This is one of the most interesting 12th magnitude objects I have seen. Give it a try. It?s very small, so wait for good seeing. I suppose there are those who view all the major deep sky objects and then move on to other things. While always looking at newer and fainter deep sky objects, I myself can never get enough of looking again and again at the showpieces. Something to live for. They need to be pursued on the meridian relentlessly with better and bigger optics and better and better sky conditions. They always look different and can always look better; such is the human experience. For example, looking at old friend M 76 in the 25? gave me start. I knew pretty much what to expect, but Friday night it was like being eye-witness to a cataclysm. In this amazing view, you could feel the violence of the event that ejected these lobes. Well, unless of course, you have no soul. The lobes become increasingly bright toward the outer edges, giving them a real bulbous or spherical appearance. It is simply mesmerizing and cannot be experienced often enough. This one view was worth the whole logistic effort this weekend. Then, as always, there is the Veil. When it is near the meridian on a great night, I never miss a chance to slap an O-III filter onto a Nagler 20 and drive around in it. The whole thing is simply mystical and unique. Your brain sees all those strands and intertwined filaments seemingly shimmering amidst a background of innumerable stars. It has infinite detail and far more beauty than any photo has ever captured. Hurled out in a catastrophic explosion, these electric scraps floating around the cosmos now seem so serene and deactivated. Something to adore rather than observe. While that bright filament to the west entrances, it is the eastern part that gives me the most chills. More than any other deep sky object, I think views of the Veil increase in proportion to the darkness of the site. There seems to be a quantum leap when you go from a dark sky site to a REALLY dark sky site. I intend to keep trying. Videmus Stellae!! Paul Knauth -- See message header for info on list archives or unsubscribing, and please send personal replies to the author, not the list.