East and West on this map are not backwards. This is not a misprint. I guarantee that when you hold this map over your head, east and west will be in their proper positions. Also use a small flashlight and attach a red piece of cloth or red construction paper over the lens of the flashlight. You won't lose your night vision when you look at this map in red light.

I have to be honest with you. I'm not a big fan of summer stargazing. For one thing, it's not really dark enough until well after 10 p.m. most of the summer, making it tough on early risers like myself. Another problem is that because of humidity, the skies naturally tend to be a bit on the hazy side and added moisture in the air also intensifies the effects of light pollution.

That's one of the reasons I love September stargazing. All those nighttime nuisances start going away for the most part. I would much rather wear a jacket instead of bug dope when I'm looking out into our universe. And I love what I'm seeing in the sky this time of year.

Start out your September stargazing with the very bright planet Venus, blazing away in the low western sky toward the end of twilight. The dimmer planet Mercury joins Venus during the middle of the month for your viewing pleasure.

The summer constellations still dominate much of sky with the "Summer Triangle" dazzling bright overhead as soon as evening twilight ends. Just find the three brightest stars you can see at the top of the celestial dome and that's it. It's one of the best tools for helping you navigate that part of the sky because the three stars you see, Vega, Altair and Deneb, are all the brightest stars in their respective constellations: Lyra the Harp, Aquila the Eagle and Cygnus the Swan, otherwise known as the Northern Cross.

From those three constellations, you can branch out with your eyes to find other surrounding fainter constellations like the delightful Delphinius the Dolphin.

In the low southern sky, the bright planet Jupiter still dominates, and just to the right of it in the low southwestern sky, are two of my favorite star pictures: Sagittarius the Archer and Scorpius the Scorpion. As featured in Starwatch a couple of weeks ago, Sagittarius also is known as the "Little Teapot" because that's what it actually looks like.

Sagittarius also lies in the general direction in space of the center of our Milky Way Galaxy. To the right of the Little Teapot is Scorpius, a constellation that actually looks like a scorpion, but by this late in the summer, much of the end of the tail is at or below the horizon.

In the northern heavens, the Big Dipper is hanging by its handle in the northwest sky. The Big Dipper isn't actually a constellation, but it outlines the derrière and tail of Ursa Major, the Great Bear of the night sky. Using the adjacent map and a little eyeball elbow grease you also can see the rest of the big bear's torso, head and at least two of his curved legs.

As you continue to face north, you'll see the fainter Little Dipper is standing on its handle, and at the end of the handle is the somewhat brighter star Polaris, also known as the North Star. The Little Dipper also is known as Ursa Minor the Little Bear. Polaris is at the end of the junior bear's tail. Every single celestial object visible in the sky appears to circle around Polaris since it's shining directly above the Earth's terrestrial North Pole.

Facing the east, look just below the bright W that outlines Cassiopeia the Queen and you'll see the first of the autumn constellations, Pegasus the Winged Horse. Just look for the "Great Square" or the diamond of four brighter stars rising in the east that outline the torso of the flying horse.

If you have a pair of binoculars or a small telescope, scan to the upper left of the great square of Pegasus and see if you can find what looks like an ovalish fuzz ball. That patch of fuzz is actually the giant Andromeda Galaxy, the next door neighbor of our own Milky Way Galaxy.

If you wanted to make a weekend trip to Andromeda, you'd have to make a trip of well over two million light-years. With just one light-year equaling almost 6 trillion miles and the price of gas over $3.00 a gallon, you might want to give that neighbor a distant wave!

Mike Lynch is an amateur astronomer and professional broadcast meteorologist for WCCO Radio in Minneapolis and is author of the book, "Pennsylvania Starwatch," available at bookstores and at his Web site www.lynchandthestars.com.