Countdown to March

It’s the last day of January. Just one month to go till storm season begins! Yeah, baby!

I’m not the only one who thinks this way. A lot of you fellow storm chasers get happy at the thought of March arriving. It won’t be much longer–just four little weeks. Then spring begins.

That’s right, spring. While the vernal equinox will occur on March 20 at 2:35 a.m. EST this year, marking the arrival of astronomical spring, March 1 is the beginning of meteorological spring. Yes, boys and girls, there really is such a thing.

The Roman calendar began the year and the spring season on the first of March, with each season occupying three months. In 1780 the Societas Meteorologica Palatina, an early international organization for meteorology, defined seasons as groupings of three whole months. Ever since, professional meteorologists all over the world have used this definition.[5] So, in meteorology for the Northern hemisphere: spring begins on 1 March, summer on 1 June, autumn on 1 September, and winter on 1 December.

–From “Season,” Wikipedia

The long and short of it is, even as middle-tier states from the Texas panhandle eastward are dealing with the aftermath of an ugly winter storm, spring is just around the corner. On Tuesday, Groundhog Day, we’ll get the authoritative word from Punxatawney Phil on what the next six weeks holds in store weatherwise. But whatever his verdict may be, the fact is, we’re two-thirds of the way through meteorological winter. We’re almost there!

So dust off your laptop. Spring will be here before you know it.

The Cloudspotter’s Guide: From Nomenclature to Human Hailstones to Surfing the Morning Glory, Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about Clouds

I had crossed the world to meet this cloud, and, finally, here we were, face to face. I held my hand to shield my eyes from the brilliant rays, now that the sun was well off the northeastern horizon. And these cascaded down the cloud’s face, casting long, warm shadows along the ripples of its surface. The undulations gently rose up with the progress of the wave, before disappearing over the crest.

In so many words, Gavin Pretor-Pinney describes his first encounter with an unusual and wonderful cloud called the Morning Glory. The setting is Burketown, south of the Gulf of Carpenteria, halfway between nowhere and oblivion in the hinterlands of northern Queensland, Australia. To this tiny community, a growing number of glider pilots make annual pilgrimage, convening to take advantage of the ultimate gliding experience: surfing the Morning Glory. While this wave-like cloud formation–and it is a wave, the product of a rolling current of air advancing linearly across the sky–occurs elsewhere in the world, the Queensland Morning Glory is its finest example. And little, nowheresville Burketown is the Morning Glory Capital.

Surfing the Morning Glory is just one of the fascinating, warmly written, often humorous accounts you’ll find in The Cloudspotter’s Guide: The Science, History, and Culture of Clouds. Who better to write such a book than Gavin Pretor-Pinney, founder of The Cloud Appreciation Society. A lover and student of clouds since his childhood, the author takes you for a look at clouds from many angles. Working his way up from the atmosphere’s lower levels, he not only provides an excellent, well-organized introduction to cloud nomenclature, including the various species and varieties of each cloud genus, but he also shares personal and informative bits and pieces that render the richness of his subject in an imaginative, often funny, and sometimes off-the-wall manner. Through it all, Gavin’s passion for clouds shines like sun pillars in a sheen of stratocumulus.

In The Cloudspotter’s Guide you’ll revisit the terrifying experience of Lt. Col William Rankin, who in 1959, having jettisoned his crippled aircraft in the midst of a thunderstorm, became a human hailstone and lived to tell the tale.

You’ll also set foot inside the strangest “structure” ever designed–the Blur Building of the 2002 Swiss National Expo, made entirely out of cloud. And you’ll join Gavin in an amusing and educational fantasy trip backstage at a Frankie Lymon concert, as Gavin holds up the event in an effort to explain to the singer why the rain falls from up above.

There’s plenty more to this little book, named one of the Best Books of 2006 by The Economist. I spotted it a few weeks ago on the shelf at Schuler Books & Music while looking for some weather-related reading and decided to give it a try. Good choice. The Cloudspotter’s Guide is a whimsical, informative, and heartfelt read, written in a popular tone that will engage pretty much anyone who has ever looked up at the sky with a sense of childlike wonder and adult curiosity. Weather nerds, stick this one in your library. You’ll reach for it more than once, not just to refresh yourself on cloud nomenclature, but also to remind yourself why you’re doing so.

1965 Palm Sunday Tornadoes: Great Forecasting, Poor Warning Infrastructure

The death toll for the historic 1965 Palm Sunday Outbreak varies depending on your source, but the number 271 packs the authority of a U. S. Weather Bureau survey submitted by a five-man team to Dr. Robert White, the chief of the bureau, just three weeks after the disaster. Add to it one known casualty from Iowa who lingered until after the report was released before succumbing to his wounds, and 272 is a reasonable tally.

However many deaths were in fact attributable to the Palm Sunday Tornadoes, the bottom line is, a shocking number of people perished in the 20th century’s second-worst tornado outbreak.

Why? Certainly there was no fault with the forecasting, which was as spot-on as you could possibly hope for, even without the benefit of all the severe weather parameters that exist today.

The research team appointed by Chief White asked that same question: what was the breakdown? Three weeks after conducting extensive surveys through the tornado-stricken six-state region, they had answers, and recommendations to accompany them that have shaped the course of both tornado research and operational forecasting.

The Weather Bureau Survey Team Report of Palm Sunday Tornadoes of 1965 is fascinating in a number of respects, not the least being the fact that in it, one can see the shape of things to come. Striking as well, amid the overall commendable efforts on the part of the various weather bureaus to warn the public, were a few notable communication disconnects. The report shows that the first two tornadoes of the outbreak struck at about the same time, 12:45 CST, in eastern Iowa. The first warning wasn’t issued until 1:00, fifteen minutes later.

In West Michigan, the Alpine Avenue F4 tornado in northwest Grand Rapids, which leveled the Swan Inn and tracked as far as Rockford, struck at the same time that the first warning was issued. Ditto for the town of Burnips, located fifteen miles southwest of Grand Rapids. Residents in the beginning paths of these tornadoes had zero lead time. Two hours later to the east, in similar fashion, Radnor, Ohio, received its warning at the same time that a tornado was tearing its way through town. As for Marion, Indiana, seven minutes advance notice was probably very little better than nothing.

Remember, in those days, civil defense sirens weren’t sounded during tornado warnings in Great Lakes communities. The only means of alerting the public to imminent danger was radio and TV, and those depended, of course, on people being tuned in to them.

The long and short of it is, the warning system back then was nothing like what we have today. We’ve come a tremendously long way in 45 years. Many of the strides we’ve taken were first set in motion by the research and recommendations of the Palm Sunday Outbreak survey team. If anything good can be said about the mayhem of that dark April evening, it is that out of its tragic losses arose advances in the public warning system that continue to do a marvelously effective job of saving lives today.

Ongoing Severe Weather in Dixie Alley

Looks like that surface low I wrote about a few posts ago is delivering its payload to Dixie Alley. Yesterday tornadoes spun down in northeast Texas and Louisiana, and now today it appears that the action will continue farther east.

I can’t help feeling a bit smug about the forecast and target area I sent to my chase partner, Bill Oosterbaan, who I believe has been down in Kentucky on business. After doing a quick-‘n-dirty scan of various NAM parameters and model soundings, I emailed him that he might have a crack at some action along I-40 between Jackson and Nashville, Tennessee.

With the 1630 SWODY1 now in, I see that my target area is in the heart of the SPC’s 5 percent tornado outlook. Tennessee may be under the gun in a while. Sure hope Bill is in a position to take advantage of the new year’s first chase opportunity.

Dixie Alley: Are Storms on the Menu for Late Next Week?

Just as I was preparing maps for a blog post on the possibility for severe weather in Dixie Alley next weekend, I got a call from my brother Pat in Port Townsend, Washington. Was I aware of the deep low off the northwest coast, he wondered? A local meteorologist named Cliff Mass had been talking about it and posting about it in his blog. Today he opened with the following:

The new high resolution forecasts (4km grid spacing, initialed 4 AM) are in and the potential for a significant coastal wind event remains. Here are two plots of sea level pressure and surface wind speed for 4PM, 10 PM, and 4 AM, starting on Sunday afternoon. A deep low center moves up the coast and sustained winds on the coast are 45-50 kts. Gusts could easily be 15-20 kts higher.

The Sunday 00Z NAM shows a persistent surface low bottoming out at 974 millibars, with some mighty tight isobars there along the coast. All I can think is, dang! There’s a wind machine, if you please. But that’s just for starters. The GFS shows the low deepening to 958 mbs late Tuesday night. By Wednesday, lower pressure is invading much of the west, and the scenario for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday across Dixie Alley begins to shape up.

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That was really what I was going to write about. Please don’t preach to me about long-range models and wishcasting. Of course I know it’s nothing but wishcasting right now. In the middle of January, can you blame me? And anyway, there’s at least some consistency established in depicting a walloping low moving into the Central Plains and then on up toward the Great Lakes. That much looks good.

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But what about moisture and instability? Heck, I don’t know, and right now I don’t care. Give it five days and let’s see what happens. It’s enough at this point to have something to keep an eye on. Here are some 18Z maps to ponder. Click on them to enlarge them.

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Bob’s Bird Bar & Grill

Is El Nino finally kicking in for us northerners? It’s closing in on 11 a.m., and here in Caledonia, Michigan, the temperature is around 37 degrees. With mid- to upper-thirties temps forecast through at least next Wednesday, we’re talking something more than just the usual January thaw.

Yaaaay! I like warm winter weather! I’m a fan of air that isn’t so cold it freezes my boogers, and it looks like that is what will be on the menu for a while. As I write, a steady layer of of stratocumulus has been streaming in from the west, chuffing in moisture, and the sun has been peering through rifts in the clouds often enough to brighten the January landscape.

The bird feeding station out on my balcony has been getting an increasing amount of commerce. The goldfinches are nonstop consumers at the mesh bag full of thistle seed; I’ve had up to at least fifteen of them at a time, pushing and shoving  like little gang bangers. The chickadees, which were the first to discover the bird feeders and for a while had the seed all to themselves, now have to put up with the unruly finches. Sparrows of course put in their appearance, and so do a solitary junco, tufted titmouse, and at times, a cardinal. A few days ago, a rosy breasted nuthatch took an interest in the suet bag, and he’s proved a match for the finches. And now this morning, a downy woodpecker discovered the suet! I’ve been waiting for that to happen, and now that it has, I’m elated. I suspect he–or she, I haven’t gotten close enough to inspect–will become another regular visitor at Bob’s Bird Bar & Grill.

Anyway, today is a warm day that presages many more warm days. So maybe this El Nino has finally decided to weigh in over the incursions of cold Canadian air that defined our December. I’m not ready to put on shorts and a T-shirt, but I will be wearing a smile when I step outside today.

Mesoanalysis Maps Now Available

If you’ve used the F5 Data RUC maps on my Storm Chasing page, then you’ll be pleased to know that, after a couple of days being unavailable, the maps are once again up, with some significant changes that I think you’ll like.

My initial intention when I took the maps down was to install RUC loops in their place, but I hit a snag. It’s just a temporary one, but in the meantime, I’ve decided that instead of reinstalling the original RUC maps, I’d switch to the new mesoanalysis maps that F5 has recently added to its suite of forecasting tools. I like them well enough that I may not even bother with the RUC loops. You can find plenty of sources for RUC, but not for these, so the mesoanalysis maps should give you a different and useful resource. Besides being proprietary to F5 Data in themselves, they include a couple of trademark indices that Andy Revering has formulated for capping and sigtors.

Check them out and let me know what you think. I welcome your comments.

Blue Moon on New Year’s Eve

They call it a “blue moon”–a second full moon in the same month. It’s a rare occurrence in itself, but tonight’s blue moon will be all the more unusual because it’s occurring on New Year’s Eve. Now we’re talking about a REALLY rare event–once every 20 years, in fact.

But wait–it gets even better. This blue moon will also undergo a partial eclipse. Don’t get too hopped up about it, though. If you live in the northern hemisphere, you won’t be seeing it. Elsewhere in the world, though, in places far removed from my little old hometown of Caledonia, Michigan, sky watchers will get to witness the whole shebang: a blue moon eclipsing on New Year’s Eve.

Those of us who reside in Michigan, on the other hand, will be lucky if we get to see the moon at all. With snow in the forecast, it’s highly unlikely we’ll get so much as a fleeting glimpse.

Too bad. I was looking forward to seeing a New Year’s Eve blue moon. I hate to think I’ll have to wait another 20 years before I get my next crack at one.

Maybe there’ll be a rift in the clouds, just long enough to offer a quick glance.

My heart is hopeful and my fingers are crossed.

How Will El Nino Affect the Tornado Season in 2010?

Have you wondered what ramifications this present El Nino has for the 2010 tornado season? I have. At first I was excited to think of all that winter precip bringing relief to the parched South, removing drought from the equation and enhancing the moisture fetch in the spring. Now, however, I’m wondering whether that advantage won’t be offset by other concerns.

Not being a climatologist, or even modestly astute in matters of climatology, the best I can do is speculate, and my speculation is probably fraught with misinformation (aka bullcrap). Nevertheless, after looking at the Climate Prediction Center’s December 21 update of their ENSO report, I can’t help trying to make some sense of it as it pertains to storm chasing.

The report makes it clear that the present El Nino is intensifying, with sea surface temperatures (SSTs) now averaging 1.2 C above normal in the eastern Pacific.

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The six charts on page 28 of the report depicting projected sea surface temperatures caught my eye. I’ve included them here. Click on the image on the right to enlarge it.

As you read the charts, notice the following:
* Panels 3 and 4 (March-May and April-June) show above-average SSTs in the eastern Pacific, pooling significantly off of Baja.
* Slightly lower-than-average SSTs preside in most of the GOM.
* Panel 5 (May-July) shows warmer temperatures finally moving toward the coast of the GOM.
* With the June-August map, the GOM seems to be in good shape, and the SST anomaly off of Baja appears to be modifying.

What I make of this picture is that subtropical moisture from the southwest (i.e. the subtropical jet) may play a bigger-than-usual role in the springtime weather, while Gulf moisture return may be delayed. That’s not a very promising scenario for this coming storm season.

Again, I am NOT a climatologist, and all of the above is just my clumsy attempt to piece together stuff I’m aware of but don’t really understand. So chances are good that my reasoning is out in left field, and if that’s the case, then more knowledgeable heads than mine are free to correct me. I’m not attempting to make a long-term prognosis here so much as I’m simply processing information, trying to understand the big picture.

I’ve already posted on this topic in Stormtrack, in the hope of generating some discussion and gaining insight into the matter. If I glean some gems of wisdom, then a follow-up post here on Stormhorn.com  may be in order. For that matter, if you’ve got a better handle on the picture than I do, then please comment here and and set me straight. Believe me, I won’t mind being wrong.

The First Day of Winter

As far as East Coasters are concerned, with 26 inches of snow falling on Long Island in yesterday’s blizzard, winter has already arrived. For that matter, here in Michigan, you’d be hard put to convince anyone otherwise when it comes to the practical sense of the word winter. Look outside and what do you see? Snow, and lots of it. Sure looks like winter to me, and has looked that way for a good month.

But today at 12:57 a.m. EST–less than three hours from now as I write these words–winter will become official. That is the precise minute of the winter solstice, the time when the sun reaches its southernmost position over the Tropic of Capricorn and begins its journey back north. From then on, the slow but steady pilgrimage toward spring will be underway.

In my hometown of Caledonia, according to my sunrise/sunset calendar, the sun rose today at 8:09 a.m. and will set at 5:11 p.m. EST. That gives us nine hours and two minutes of daylight on the shortest day of the year. From this point, we’ll struggle a bit trying to add those extra, tiny increments of daylight. The sun will set a little later each day, but it will also continue to rise a little later for a while, nibbling away another four minutes of dawn until January 7. That’s the day when, after tipping above the horizon at 8:13 a.m. for seven days straight–the sun will finally rise at 8:12. We’ll have added a minute in the morning and, by then, 14 minutes in the evening–a total of 15 minutes. By the end of January, we’ll have gained 58 minutes of  daylight.

Gray and cold though today may be, with a light snow falling steadily outside my deck door, winter solstice is nevertheless a welcome landmark. Its frozen arrival portends the lengthening of light and the certainty of spring. And this one comes with a visit from my brother Patrick, whom I haven’t seen in several years. It’s wonderful to see him; a more welcome Christmas gift I couldn’t ask for.

Whatever the winter brings–and with a strong El Nino in force, it could be a doozy for many–today is the time when the forces that conspire to create snow, ice, and bitter cold begin to lose their logistics. Winter’s batteries may presently be charged to the max, but the countdown to storm season is about to begin.