By now you’ve probably seen the time-lapse of the funnel cloud raging through Moore, Okla., donated to the Red Cross, and thought to yourself, “Ohmygod, I am so glad I don’t live someplace where there are tornadoes.” Or maybe you do live someplace where there are tornadoes, and you’re wondering why God and/or the climate decided that your community should be blessed with this particular terror. Well, we wondered too.

Natural disasters are both devastating and frustrating, but particularly so when no one else in the world seems to get them. Seventy-five percent of all tornadoes on Earth occur in the United States [PDF]. To which we say, “Dammit America, why do you do this to us?”

Cue insightful map from the Weather Underground:

It’s possible the number of non-U.S. tornadoes could be much higher. Every continent except for Antarctica has reported tornadoes, but the numbers are sketchy. Some places, like Australia, are suspected of having lots of tornadoes, but many occur in less populated areas, so they are left to spin out uncounted and unnoticed. Other places, like the U.K., have lots of tornadoes (the most tornadoes per area, actually), but British tornadoes don’t have nearly the same magnitude.

From the good folks at PBS:

All told, about 1,200 tornadoes occur annually in the United States. The entire rest of the world collectively reports just 200 to 300 every year. Yet only in this country is the number of reported tornadoes roughly equal to the number of actual tornadoes in any given year. The U.S. began officially collecting tornado reports back in 1953 and rating tornadoes using the Fujita Scale 20 years later. No other nation has such a robust or long-standing system.

Nonetheless, it is widely accepted that tornadoes occur with the greatest frequency and strength in the U.S. — and most U.S. tornadoes occur in Tornado Alley. Check out this crazy video that tracks all the tornadoes in the U.S. from 1950-2011:

So why so many U.S. tornadoes? The traditional response is that warm, moist Gulf air gets together with dry air from the Rockies and cold air from Canada to birth tornado babies over the broad, flat Midwestern plains.

But the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Agency says that’s a “gross oversimplification”:

Many thunderstorms form under those conditions (near warm fronts, cold fronts and drylines respectively), which never even come close to producing tornadoes. Even when the large-scale environment is extremely favorable for tornadic thunderstorms, not every thunderstorm spawns a tornado. The truth is that we don’t fully understand.

These air collisions often produce supercells — the kind of rotating thunderstorms that are wont to produce tornadoes. The rotation is caused by cold air hitting warm air and spinning — kind of like a yo-yo. However, the final steps of tipping a horizontal supercell on its vertical tornado side are where things get a little fuzzy. Here’s a super-informative video with NASA’s Tim Samaras that makes essentially the same point, but with a bit more exactness and eloquence:

Or if you got really into science textbook illustrations …

So how about the connection between tornadoes and climate change? There, too, the science doesn’t help us much. Earlier this week, Susie Cagle asked whether or not tornadoes are affected by climate change. Results: We don’t have much of a clue.

As John Upton noted, although tornado patterns have been more erratic lately than in the past, there haven’t necessarily been more of them. We are seeing a steady rising trend of smaller tornadoes being reported, but NOAA mostly attributes this to things like better communication and more amateur storm-chasing in the family Canyonero. The number of tornadoes rated EF1 or greater remains pretty steady over time. (The EF Scale, or Enhanced Fujita Scale, lets you know whether your tornado’s removing shingles or flattening towns. EF0=shingle removal, EF5=flattened town.)

Jeff Masters, director of meteorology for the Weather Underground added in this HuffPo piece that “our database for evaluating long-term changes in tornadoes is pretty awful, so we really don’t know how tornadoes might be changing.” Maybe he hasn’t seen that crazy/helpful tornado history video, but the more likely case is that he’s right. Tornadoes are complex, and in order to more deeply understand the tornado-climate relationship, we’ll need better trend data and more powerful climate models.

What we do know is that big, destructive tornadoes are uniquely American, like apple pie, baseball, and low congressional approval ratings.

So for the time being, let’s be careful about blaming tornadoes on climate change — and grateful that this one didn’t level our town. Here’s that link again for donating to the Red Cross.

If I were to tell you this is a story about a tornado in Kansas, it would probably bring to mind a certain doe-eyed girl and her little dog. Well, sometimes tornadoes transport girls and their adorable pets to magical lands. Other times they level entire towns.

That is what happened the night of May 4, 2007, when an EF-5 tornado (for non-Kansans, that’s a really freaking big — the biggest, in fact) nearly two miles wide hit the town of Greensburg, a farming community in south-central Kansas. Almost all of the 1,383 residents lost their homes, nine died, and the town was left looking like this:

The destruction was sudden and the rebuilding process was daunting. However, as thoughts on how to rebuild swirled, a number of people thought, “Hey, what if we rebuilt Greensburg with ‘green’ principles? Ha, guys, see what I did there? Do you get it? … Guys?”

To which many of their neighbors responded with a “yes, we do get it” and a “yeah, we thought of that idea, too.” Even before the tornado hit, the community was shrinking and its population getting older. Greensburg residents knew they needed a new strategy. The tornado, awful as it was, provided a clean slate.

The greening of Greensburg was a way to rebrand the community, says the town’s current mayor, Bob Dixson, but more importantly, it was about “building a community back as our ancestors built for us — a community to last.”

In the years that followed, Greensburg would rise from the rubble, replete with LEED-certified municipal buildings; a “net metering policy” that makes solar and wind power more affordable for residents; and a new town master plan [ginormous PDF!] that includes things like green corridors and a walkable downtown. The efforts attracted gobs of state and federal money, stories in the national press, and a reality TV show produced by Leo DiCaprio.

Six years after disaster struck Greensburg, the media circus has largely left town. But as a part of our Get Small project at Grist, I thought I’d check in and see if a community that was nearly wiped off the map might have lessons for other small towns that are looking to spruce up their images and slim down their carbon footprint.

My first question was how a small town on the Plains managed to embrace sustainability in the first place. Turns out that from the beginning of the rebuilding effort, some community members saw sustainability as a natural extension of rural and conservative sensibilities. “A strong value of rural folks is self-sufficiency,” says Daniel Wallach, who moved to the Greensburg area a few years before the tornado, and started the nonprofit Greensburg Greentown to help the community with its endeavor into sustainability. “You hear it all the time in conservative circles when you’re talking about government finance: People are really clear on not wanting to leave financial burden on kids. But what about the other kinds of burdens we leave on kids?”

But as anyone who has ever lived in a small town will understand, Greensburg residents weren’t about to let themselves be called names like “treehugger” or “turbineboy.” This new emphasis on sustainability had to be authentic.

Dixson credits community meetings in the first days following the tornado for putting people on the same page. “It was critical right off the bat that we start meeting in a big tent outside of town,” he says. “We did everything out there.” Each entity in town, from hospital higher-ups to city officials and nonprofit leaders, would share their thoughts inside that tent in a space where everyone could hear. “That helped tie everything together, so we were working together,” Dixson says.

The early rebuilding efforts generated a tremendous amount of energy, and some remarkable examples of eco-friendly ingenuity. Local resident Brad Estes says greening Greensburg “was a 24/7 job.” Early on, many were unsure if they wanted to spend, in some cases, over twice as much in building costs to do it the green way. However, Estes notes that those that made a commitment to a sustainable rebuild “feel like it’s paying back in lower energy prices and better conservation of resources.”

Estes is now the director of wind operations for BTI Wind Energy, a local wind turbine company that was born from the aftermath of the tornado. The business sells small-scale turbines for residential and commercial use. Over the past few years, it’s expanded from being just a local supplier to installing and servicing turbines in other states and Canada — the perfect inverse of the Keystone XL tar-sands pipeline.

On a larger scale, the city of Greensburg teamed up with John Deere Renewable Energy and the Kansas Power Pool to build a production-scale wind farm five miles outside of town. Estes describes the wind farm the same way some dude at the bar might describe his ’67 Pontiac GTO: “Yeah, there are 10 units of 1.25 megawatt Suzlon turbines, generating 12.5 megawatts in total.” The juice flows into the Kansas Power Pool, which feeds a number of local municipalities, but Greensburg receives renewable energy credits and the bragging rights to getting 100 percent of its power from the wind.

That 100 percent wind power only refers to what is imported from elsewhere, however. Estes estimates that around 8 percent of Greensburg’s energy is generated from assorted wind turbines and solar panels scattered around the town itself. That’s thanks to Greenburg’s net-metering policy, which which allows resident to install rooftop solar panels or backyard wind turbines, feed any leftover power right into the grid, and then get paid for it — the full retail price. This allows residents to pay off the up-front cost of panels and turbines more quickly, bringing the cost of renewables within reach of more of the populace.

And thanks to all the new high-efficiency buildings, including the hospital, the local John Deere dealership, and the arts center, Greensburg is saving $200,000 annually in energy costs on 13 of its largest buildings, according to a recent study by the the National Renewable Energy Laboratory. Private residences got into the act — examples here, here, or here — and there’s this cool map showing all of Greensburg’s sustainable building projects.

Greensburg is understanding sustainability in its own terms. “Being green” in Greensburg is not a primary motivator, but a product of respecting resources for future generations, working toward self-sufficiency, and adapting to the economic and physical climate.

The true test of the new approach, however, will come with time. Will the new green infrastructure attract businesses and jobs, or will Greensburg become what Mayor Dixson calls a “green ghost town”? On that front, it may still be too soon to say, but there are positive signs. While the population was nearly halved after the tornado (from 1,398 to 775), those that stayed seem to be sticking around, and many of the businesses have returned: the hardware store, the coffee shop, banks, the pharmacy.

And there’s this: In a 2009 statement, Greensburg’s school superintendent, Darin Headrick, said that “Before the tornado, if you asked most of the high school kids about their plans for the future, they’d say the same thing: ‘I’m going to go away to college and never come back.’ Now, they say, ‘I’m going to go to college and then come back.’ They see things here that they can impact.”

Maybe there’s a future for these hardscrabble rural towns after all.

Seattle crunches quite a bit of granola, hugs more than its allotted trees, and has the second highest bike commute rate for U.S cities. But, as of yet, it has no bicycle sharing system — which is what all the cool, sustainable cities are doing. (I see you, Tulsa.)

Bikeshares make bicycles available to the public through a network of checkout stations, typically in densely populated areas. They can help cut down on traffic congestion, reduce pollution from cars, and act as the gateway bike for the beginners among us. Oh, and cycling makes us happy. Don’t you want to be happy, Seattle?

Yes, apparently.

In January, the nonprofit Puget Sound Bike Share announced its search for bike vendor proposals in King County, Wash., bringing Seattle one step closer to a bike sharing system. But here’s the problem: No bikeshare has ever been successful where there is a strict helmet law like Seattle’s, which requires cyclists to helmet up regardless of age. (Most municipalities only require children under a certain age to wear a helmet, or have no helmet law.)

If Seattle can pull this off, it will pave a path for cities aiming provide an easy, clean mode of transportation, even while insisting that riders protect their melons.

Helmet laws aren’t the first barricade bikeshare advocates have had to navigate. Early bike sharing programs were curbed because many of the bikes were damaged and stolen. In 2007, Tulsa solved the problem by installing a system that required users to swipe a credit card to use a bike, and tracked where the bikes were checked out and in.

Since then, sharing stations have spread across the U.S. with the ferocity of all those Walmart Supercenters we saw in the mid-’90s — except, you know, better. Already, nearly 30 U.S. cities have them and there are many more in the works. Some programs actually turn a profit.

Seattle’s calf-quaking hills and drizzly weather might make you wonder if a program like this can really take off here, but bikeshares are succeeding in similarly dreary, uneven conditions elsewhere. (See Dublin.) The helmet law, on the other hand, could create a real problem. The law by itself could whittle a whopping 30 percent off of bike share participation, according to the Puget Sound Bike Share Business Plan [PDF].

What’s the problem with helmets, you ask? One, helmets can make you look silly and make your hair look worse. Take this guy, for example.

But it’s not just fashion consciousness at work. Some experts say helmet rules make bikes seem more dangerous than they actually are. From the New York Times:

“Pushing helmets really kills cycling and bike-sharing in particular because it promotes a sense of danger that just isn’t justified — in fact, cycling has many health benefits,” says Piet de Jong, a professor in the department of applied finance and actuarial studies at Macquarie University in Sydney. He studied the issue with mathematical modeling, and concludes that the benefits may outweigh the risks by 20 to 1.

Fine odds, professor. Fine odds.

Finally, there’s the question of accessibility. We’ve pretty well figured out how to check out a bike and check it back in, but renting helmets is another can of worms.

Melbourne, Australia, notably tried the bikeshare/helmet law combo and all that resulted was mild interest and several bad cases of helmet hair. According to a 2012 study [PDF] by the Mineta Transportation Institute, the “program’s 600-bicycle fleet averages 70 trips per day, 10 percent the usage of comparable programs in London and Dublin, not accounting for differences in density and land use.”

But Seattle is not Melbourne, says Puget Sound Bike Share Executive Director Holly Houser. Melbourne was unsuccessful, Houser says, because it didn’t clearly communicate to riders that they needed to wear helmets, had a predatory ticketing policy, and didn’t offer helmets at every check-out station.

“We’re looking at having a fully integrated system where there’s a helmet at every kiosk,” Houser adds. If all goes as planned, Seattleites will be able to check out helmets the same way they rent bikes — with the swipe of a credit card. When they’re finished, they’ll turn in the helmet with the bike, so it can be cleaned and inspected. Vancouver, Canada, plans to experiment with a similar system this summer.

However, there is no proposed solution to helmet hair. Maybe they could add hair-gel vending machines too?

Houser says she’s happy to comply with the helmet law: “Everybody involved feels like it’s an important law that we don’t want to see go away.” An oft-cited 1989 study found that the likelihood of head injuries decreased by 85 percent when cyclists were wearing helmets. Houser also notes that Seattle’s topography can lead to faster speeds, and more dangerous, uncomfortable situations for first-time cyclists.

Still, Houser says the larger challenge is to protect cyclists from cars by building a better system of bike lanes, bike paths, and other infrastructure. “The point is to get more people safely on bikes,” she says.

And having more bikes on the street, studies have shown, increases safety by dint of the fact that they’re more visible, and drivers pay closer attention — even if they’re only pointing and laughing at the dudes in the funny plastic hats.

Then you realized you didn’t know much about cycling, lived in a city that has less-than-stellar bike infrastructure, and were intimidated by things like cars. Oh well.

But wait! Portland, Ore., bike blogger/evangelist Elly Blue has produced the 127-page solution to all of your pedaling problems – Everyday Bicycling: How to Ride a Bike for Transportation. This little green book is a handy toolkit for the bicycle curious, full of practical info for people of all shapes, lifestyles, and wheel preferences.

At times, Blue’s words of wisdom may seem obvious to a seasoned cyclist, but that’s her magic: She is like that friend who knows everything about a topic but can still explain it in a way that doesn’t make you feel like a complete idiot. Everyday Bicycling has all the pretense of a Jimmy Buffet concert — and thankfully, none of the Hawaiian print.

And Blue knows bikes. She has four of them, but prefers her Xtracycle cargo bike, which she’s been known to hook up to a bamboo trailer and pull around a ukulele player or two. She writes books like Bikenomics: How Bicycling Will Save the Economy if We Let It (which grew out of a series she wrote for Grist under the same name), runs a bike publishing company called Taking the Lane, and takes the bicycling message on tour in what she describes as a “very nerdy traveling [bike] circus.”

In Everyday Bicycling, she starts at the beginning — the first chapter is called “How to ride a bike ” — and proceeds to cycle through a variety of topics ranging from the merits of different commuter bikes to ways to get involved in a biking community. Here’s a sampling of the conundrums Blue solves between the book’s covers:

• Can’t I get that Huffy from Walmart? It’s a great price … (Elly Blue’s pro tip: Beware the big-box store bargain bike — if you use it with any regularity, you’ll have to replace it within six months.)

• How do I get grease off of my favorite pants? (Says Blue: Apply a citrus-based solvent, let it soak in for several hours, wash like normal, and bam! Clean pants.)

• How do I bike with my kids sans near-death experiences? (Blue lays out all the options — from trailers to longtails to trailer bikes — then provides the pros and cons for each.)

On top of the practical advice, Blue also delves into topics like bike advocacy and helmet politics — and she’s well-versed in the complexities. When discussing helmet laws, Blue writes that it’s a good idea to wear a helmet, but where helmet use is required, “fewer people tend to ride bikes — which has had the effect of making cycling more dangerous.” More bikes on the streets, she explains = more awareness = fewer crashes between bikes and cars.

Everyday Bicycling is a great book for the budding cyclist with know-it-all aspirations and little time to commit. And it’s something you can grow with as a cyclist, with helpful reminders that what’s right for one is not necessarily right for all. So whether you’re struggling with basic bike mechanics or are stumped by the term “Copenhagen left,”* Elly Blue’s new book is worth a look.

* A Copenhagen left is a maneuver by which a cyclist rides through an intersection on the right side of the street, then stops at the far corner and waits for the light to change before proceeding to the left. Still confused? Watch this video — or get yourself a copy of Elly Blue’s book!

Been jonesin’ for a Hollywood movie about a hot-button environmental issue? One without animation, penguins, or Al Gore?

You’re in luck: Promised Land could be just the ticket when it hits theaters on Dec. 28. Beyond being the first environmental-issue drama with Oscar chances since Erin Brockovich, this movie about fracking in small-town America comes from some big-name players. Matt Damon, Frances McDormand, and John Krasinski star. Gus Van Sant directs. Damon and Krasinski wrote the script based on a story by Dave Eggers. Look closely: There might even be some Grist readers lurking in the background.

Corporate salesman and all-American good guy Steve Butler (Matt Damon) tries to sell a teeny, depressed Pennsylvania town on the benefits (i.e. mad cash money) of fracking. Just as it looks like we’re headed for a happy ending, with a well on every plot and a fat wallet in every pocket, Butler is thwarted by a tenacious environmentalist (John Krasinki), some bad press, and a plaid-clad voice of wisdom (Hal Holbrook).

The practice of fracking has, er, exploded of late throughout the U.S., and Promised Land tells a familiar story of a struggling rural town sitting atop a gaseous gold mine. Barrels of money and the seemingly scant possibility of side effects make for an obvious choice, right? Yes, please! And a flaming-water cocktail to go, sir!

Here’s hoping the entire movie is as riveting as this 2.5-minute Damon-vs.-Krasinki throwdown. But ultimately my hope is that the film is able to effectively portray the uncomfortable power dynamics at work when big business comes into a small town, and the environmental tradeoffs we make for short-term economic gain. If it spurs curious minds to find out more about the impacts of fracking, all the better.