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As the moon passes in front of the sun on August 12, 2026, viewers along the eclipse’s path of totality in Iceland, Greenland and Northern Spain will be treated to more than two minutes of daytime darkness.
For many, it will be their first experience in totality. For the eclipse itself, it’s just another slightly different chapter in a millennium-long rinse and repeat.
That’s because every eclipse belongs to what is called a saros series—a “family” of eclipses that follow a predictable schedule. A saros series begins and ends with partial eclipses near opposite poles of the Earth, and in between may feature annular, hybrid or total eclipses—like the kind occurring this August—across the world.
“Then the series will end,” said Frank Maloney, PhD, associate professor of Astrophysics and Planetary Science at Villanova University. “New saros series are always coming into being, and old ones fading from existence. While they are here, they usually have between 70-73 eclipses over a span of 1,200-1,300 years.”
Within the series is what is known as a saros cycle. It’s a period of roughly 18 years, 11 days and eight hours, when a natural synchronization of the moon’s three lunar phases arises. That synchronization can predict both lunar and solar eclipses, which follow very similar geometrics to the ones that precede and follow in their series.
But why, then, aren’t all eclipses in a series over the same viewing area? The answer lies more with the movement of the Earth than with the eclipse.
Within each series, the biggest cause of change from eclipse to eclipse comes from that last eight hours. It’s only the length of a workday, but each cycle, the Earth has rotated an additional 120 degrees from the previous. While the eclipse itself remains very similar to its predecessor and successor in the series, the viewing area does not.
“Every fourth eclipse, or roughly every 54 years, you are back to where you began,” said Dr. Maloney. “That fourth eclipse in a saros is referred to as an exeligmos. But even that eclipse won’t follow the exact same path for a few reasons, including slight variations in the moon’s orbital node and distance from Earth.”
Same region, but different track.
The August 2026 eclipse will pass over Greenland, Iceland and Northern Spain, but its exeligmos from July 10, 1972 passed over parts of Russia, Alaska and Northeast Canada. Ed Guinan, PhD, ’64 CLAS, professor of Astrophysics and Planetary Science, witnessed that one with a Villanova contingent on the Gulf of St. Lawrence in Nova Scotia. Fifty-four years from now, this eclipse will be only a partial one, as the saros series begins to wane.
The upcoming August event, in fact, is the penultimate of 10 total solar eclipses in Saros 126. The 10th will be in August 2044—the next one visible in the contiguous United States, seen in totality in parts of Montana, North Dakota and South Dakota.
Saros 126 began with a partial eclipse on March 10, 1179, and will end with another partial on May 3, 2459.
Humans understood these patterns long before this one began. In the first millennium BCE, the Chaldeans discovered the saros cycle by “carefully keeping record of observations” of eclipses over time, explained Dr. Maloney.
“Our lives are linked with the sun. To the ancients, having the sun disappear was believed to be a really bad thing, like a demon devouring it. That goes for lunar eclipses too, which caused the moon to turn red and really bother people. When they could begin to predict them, total eclipses ceased to be the powerfully bad omens that ancients believed they were. It was still a mystery as to why it happened, but at least it was predictable, which reduced people's anxieties.”
Now, the anxiety stemming from eclipse viewing is saved for the fierce competition for hotels along the path of totality and threats of cloudy weather.
“But don’t worry,” Dr. Maloney said. "If you miss one, you might be able to see it ‘nearby’ in another 54 years.”
Philadelphia’s Independence Hall has long occupied an outsized place in the American imagination. The space where the Continental Army was established, the Declaration of Independence adopted and the United States Constitution ratified, the site was once described by President Abraham Lincoln as the source “where were collected together the wisdom, the patriotism, the devotion to principle, from which sprang the institutions under which we live.”
In July, these hallowed grounds will yet again take center stage, as the country observes its semiquincentennial, or America250, celebration. In due course, House lawmakers will gather at the landmark for a special commemorative event, mayors from across the U.S. will march to the gates in a show of civic pride and solidarity, and thousands of visitors will flock to the site daily in appreciation for its significance to the cause of “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
However, while Independence Hall’s role in the national saga will go widely remarked and recognized, the building itself has a story that remains largely unknown. According to Whitney Martinko, PhD, associate professor of History and director of the Albert Lepage Center for History in the Public Interest at Villanova University, the “cradle of American democracy” almost never survived the country’s infancy.
“Early on, the challenge was about two things,” says Dr. Martinko, who specializes in public history, historic preservation and the early U.S. “One was about ownership of what was called the ‘Old State House,’ because it was the former statehouse in the colony of Pennsylvania. And the second was about the development of the city around it.”
As Dr. Martinko explains, in the early 19th century, Independence Hall—then the Old State House—was under the control of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, which had shifted its governmental seat from Philadelphia to Harrisburg by 1812. To fund the construction of a new capitol building in the wake of the move, Pennsylvania legislators seriously contemplated selling the site to private enterprise, with the surrounding area undergoing a development boom.
“Today’s Independence Mall was built up entirely,” says Dr. Martinko. “In the 18th century, it was full of buildings, shops and houses, and by the 19th century, it had become a huge furniture district and a heart of commerce in many ways.”
As plans were drawn up to deliver the hall to the highest bidder, local resistance quickly emerged. Opposed to the landmark’s loss, citizens of Philadelphia and municipal leaders rushed to the defense of the building and its lawn, arguing that their preservation entailed a necessary public good.
“Everyone looked to this site as the heart of the new nation. It’s a historic site. It’s an important building. People thought of it as one of the great pieces of Georgian architecture at the time,” says Dr. Martinko.
“It was also seen as a civic space, as people gathered there on Election Day. And its lawn was highly valued, with green, open space considered important even then, for air circulation. So, it was really seen as a political space, a civic space and a green space that was important for the well-being of Philadelphians and the health of Philadelphia.”
Deliberations over the fate of Independence Hall would continue for a period of five years, up until 1818. After a spirited public campaign, a settlement was finally reached when the City of Philadelphia purchased the plot from the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania for $70,000 (roughly $1.85 million in today’s currency).
In essence, the deal would forevermore secure Independence Hall’s place within the pantheon of great American shrines, parks and monuments. However, in a terrific irony, it would also eventually lead to the loss of a different piece of history: Between 1950 and 1967, the 19th-century development projects that once threatened Independence Hall became a casualty of the city’s efforts to make the “birthplace of America” an urban focal point, with the creation of Independence Mall.
“Those buildings were all torn down in the mid-20th century, when Ed Bacon and the City Planning Commission decided to make Independence Hall a major attraction,” says Dr. Martinko. “There were debates surrounding this issue as well. The Jayne Building was one of the 19th-century buildings that was demolished and that is most well-known. So, there’s this sense of preserving 18th-century history through the demolition of 19th-century architecture.”
As the nation approaches its 250th anniversary, the near loss of Independence Hall and the removal of its 19th-century neighbors stand as striking examples of the ways in which what we value, and how much we value it, evolves over time. What’s more, the historic threats to Philadelphia’s most famous site serve as a poignant reminder of the delicate nature of public memory and preservation—and the fact that the places we treasure today may not always be with us tomorrow.
“Even though it seems absurd to us now, we’re still seeing debates over the line between redevelopment and connection with the past,” concludes Dr. Martinko. “It’s not that no one saw the value of Independence Hall, or that they didn’t see it as historic. It was just this debate that a lot of very reasonable people continue to have today: Is this what really needs to be preserved? And how should it be preserved?”
In 1926, Robert H. Goddard launched the world’s first liquid-fueled rocket in Auburn, Mass. Goddard’s 10-foot-tall rocket was airborne for just 2.5 seconds, reaching speeds of 60 miles per hour before landing 184 feet away from the launch site.
A century later, the aerospace industry is booming, with new technology and missions making headlines every day—some with incredible success, and others encountering challenges that send scientists back to the drawing board.
In February 2026, NASA delayed the launch of Artemis II—its next mission to the moon—citing issues with helium flow in the rocket’s systems. By April, the mission was on track again, and Artemis II completed the first crewed flight to the moon in more than half a century. Crew members for the upcoming Artemis III mission were also recently announced, as well as a timeline and overview for Artemis IV, the first planned crewed mission to the lunar South Pole in 2028.
Amid these successes and setbacks, researchers continue to innovate the field and develop new technologies designed to help expand our knowledge of the vast universe. That innovation comes from diverse and unique places, including Villanova University.
Research in Flight Student interest in aerospace led to the creation of a Master of Science in Aerospace Engineering (MSAE) program at Villanova University, which began in the Fall 2025 semester. Sergey Nersesov, PhD, associate professor of Mechanical Engineering, was instrumental in the inception of the MSAE program and helped develop courses in space flight mechanics, applied aerodynamics, aerospace structures analysis and advanced flight dynamics and control, among others.
The idea for the graduate program was inspired by the growing popularity of the College of Engineering’s Minor in Aerospace Engineering. The minor attracts students from across the university, drawing from other majors and colleges at Villanova. For example, Dr. Nersesov recently collaborated on a research project focused on spacecraft and satellite control systems with Aedan Disanto ‘26 CLAS, an astrophysics and planetary sciences major and aerospace engineering minor.
“If you look up at the sky, sometimes you see satellites chasing each other,” said Dr. Nersesov. “Dynamics and control researchers develop algorithms to ensure proper spacing between the satellites so they can function correctly.”
The spacing between satellites is crucial to avoid collision, which is also a potential issue when a spacecraft approaches a space station to dock. In this situation the velocities, rotation and orientation of both vehicles are carefully controlled so that docking mechanisms align correctly, which requires up to 12 variables to be coordinated simultaneously.
Dr. Nersesov and Disanto analyzed the algorithms needed to guarantee perfect satellite function and built upon them, discovering more efficient ways to operate vehicles in space.
This summer, Dr. Nersesov and his students will also begin designing a prototype for a new kind of drone.
Typical drones use ample amounts of energy to become airborne and capture photos or video content because they rely entirely on thrust to hold themselves up. To improve effectiveness, Dr. Nersesov and his students aim to create a drone in the style of an airplane, with vertical takeoff and landing (VTOL) capability. The drone will take off vertically, like a helicopter, but then transition to flying horizontally like an airplane, allowing lift from the wings to reduce the energy needed to stay airborne. As a result, it could stay in the air up to ten times longer than a hovering drone.
While the project focuses on a single aircraft design, it represents the type of forward-thinking research driving the aerospace field today.
Aerospace Engineering with Biology Elsewhere, Qianhong Wu, PhD, chair of Mechanical Engineering in the College of Engineering, is exploring a concept called super-lubrication, inspired by the way red blood cells move through the human body. Blood cells travel through capillaries narrower than their own diameter without damaging themselves or the vessel walls. A soft, porous layer called the endothelial glycocalyx within the vessels allows cells to glide through, reducing friction.
In studying this biological process, an idea emerged that could potentially be translated to the aerospace field. Dr. Wu’s team is currently applying their deep understanding of biomechanical processes to applications that might reduce aerodynamic friction on aircraft surfaces by more than 90 percent. This lower friction may also improve fuel efficiency and extend flight endurance for drones or other aircraft.
“Our work is an example of how thinking outside your traditional field can lead to innovation,” said Dr. Wu. “Sometimes the solution comes from a completely different subject, like biology.”
A Century of Momentum One hundred years after Goddard’s brief but groundbreaking flight, aerospace innovation has expanded far beyond its earliest experiments. Today, progress in the field depends not only on major missions and milestones, but also on the steady work of researchers refining systems and exploring new ideas.
At Villanova, that work is taking shape across disciplines—from spacecraft control systems to biologically inspired materials. Together, these efforts reflect how the field continues to evolve through collaboration and creativity.
