Moon. Rise and set, the phase, and the percentage lit. The phase is named the way an almanac names it — new, waxing crescent, first quarter, waxing gibbous, full, waning gibbous, last quarter, waning crescent — and the percentage is how much of the disc is lit, which is a different number from where the moon is in its cycle. Waxing or waning is the useful half of it: it tells you whether tomorrow night will be brighter than tonight or darker, which is what decides whether to go now or wait a week.
Milky Way. Whether the galactic core is up tonight, how high it climbs, the window while the sky is properly dark, and the best nights over the coming weeks. The night is also scored out of two things that can ruin it — how much moon is up during that window, and the cloud cover forecast across it.
Aurora. The chance at your latitude, sourced from NOAA, along with the Kp index. Both feeds come from NOAA’s Space Weather Prediction Center: the chance is read out of the OVATION model, which publishes a whole-globe grid of aurora probability, and the Kp index comes from the planetary K-index feed beside it. Kp is a 0–9 scale of how disturbed the Earth’s magnetic field is, and it matters because it decides how far south the aurora reaches: 4 is unsettled and worth a look north from the northern states, 5 is the storm line, and 7 and above is the rare kind that is visible well south of it. Worth knowing what the model is answering: OVATION says where the aurora is, not whether you will see it. Cloud, the moon and whatever is standing on your northern horizon all still apply.
Eclipse. The next lunar eclipse, its contact times, and whether the moon clears your horizon for them. A lunar eclipse is one event the entire night side of the planet sees at the same moment, so it resolves to arithmetic. Where a solar eclipse falls is a fussier calculation, and Halfstop does not attempt it.
Fog. An hour-by-hour likelihood, with the kind named beside it. Ground fog forms in place: the ground radiates its heat away under a clear sky, cools the air touching it past its dewpoint, and a light stir spreads that cooling up through a layer deep enough to see. It needs night, a clear sky, and wind that is light but not absent — dead calm makes dew instead — and it is what fills a hollow or a river bottom by dawn and burns off an hour or two after the sun reaches it. Drifting fog is carried in: moist air moving over colder ground, cooling from below as it travels. It needs more wind than ground fog tolerates, ignores the sky and the hour, comes off water and off spring snowpack, and leaves when the wind changes rather than on any schedule. Either can be freezing fog when it happens at or below freezing, which is called out separately because it says nothing about how the fog formed and everything about what it will do to a road and a tripod.
Two kinds are missing on purpose. Upslope fog turns on the wind’s direction against the shape of the ground, and steam fog turns on the temperature of the water it comes off; neither of those is in the forecast feed, and guessing at them would be inventing a forecast rather than reading one. A lake shore or a steep hollow will fog when this says it will not.