Squelch, squelch, squelch — that could be the sound of future America, if predictions about how climate change will ramp up "extreme rainfall" prove accurate.
Say the world's nations do little to reduce the amount of greenhouse gases pouring into the atmosphere. By the years 2041 to 2070, the warmer climate could bring torrential downpours to vast parts of the United States, as shown in this model from NOAA. Dark-blue splashes depict areas that might see as many as two or more days a year of extreme rain, defined as "rainfall totals in excess of the historic 98th percentile." (This is against a 1971 to 2000 baseline.) Cities that should maybe consider wooing the umbrella-manufacturing industry include Seattle, Wash.; Portland, Ore.; Boise, Idaho; Richmond, Va.; and much of the Northeast.
Much of America is about to be overrun by another miserable cold-dozer next week, but on the planetary scale, things have actually been warm. January's temperatures were the hottest for the month since 2007 and, with a combined global average of 54.8 degrees F, this was the fourth warmest January since records began in 1880.
That's the word from NOAA's National Climatic Data Center, which recently released an updated "State of the Climate" that includes the above map of temperature anomalies. Note cooler-than-normal patches in the eastern U.S., central Canada, Scandinavia, and a big hunk of Russia, which had country-scale temperatures 9 degrees F below average. But the big story was heat, heat, heat, as NCDC explains:
Being a baby penguin is no easy ride. To survive, the chicks must escape starvation, the jaws of predators, and being beaten or pecked to death by other penguins. Now, on top of these dangers, there comes evidence the baby birds are facing another challenge to their existence: climate change, which is making their habitats increasingly deadly. Scientists have known for a while that the warming atmosphere is changing the global food chain, and that these alterations can starve seabirds. But a team of researchers that has been monitoring penguins since the 1980s alleges that more extreme weather is directly …
Going outside in many parts of southeastern Australia right now is like sucking on a stogie filled with smoldering grass and bark. The countryside is alive with flame from nearly 100 rampaging blazes, which are drawing strength from feverish weather to slam a dirty-black lid of smoke over Sydney.
This breakout will go down as the worst regional fires in a decade. More than a third of the fires are out of control and behaving erratically thanks to screwy yet strong wind patterns. The Sydney Morning Herald has put together a timeline of events from Thursday, and it's laden with cruel portents:
Where on Earth are you most likely to die early from air pollution? NASA provides the answer with this mortally serious view of the planet, and it is: lots of places.
Like tar stains on a healthy lung, the sickly yellow and brown areas in this visualization represent regions with significant numbers of pollutant-influenced deaths. Heavily urbanized places in eastern China, India, Indonesia, and Europe are stippled by the darkest colors of snuff, meaning they experience rates of ruination as high as 1,000 deaths per square kilometer each year.
Right now, El Paso's drier than an cow bone baking in the Chihuahuan Desert, and an important source of water for drinking and farming has shrunk into the sandy puddle you see below.
The vast desolation of the Elephant Butte Reservoir -- named so not because of the presence of pachyderms, but due to a hump in the landscape vaguely shaped like a hulking animal -- is a weighty concern for residents of El Paso, who get about half their water from it. During flush times in the late 1980s and '90s, the 'phant contained nearly 2.2 million acre-feet of aguaand was the largest reservoir in New Mexico. Today, however, it holds only 3 percent of that amount (65,057 acre-feet) and is at its lowest level in four decades.
Take a gander at this map of the United States lit up like the burning face of the sun. It shows how hot America got from July 10-19, with maximum temperatures shown in appropriately incendiary shades:
Released on Friday by NOAA, the map shows the hellish days that preceded the nation's current meteorological bugbear: an "oppressively hot area of high pressure," to use the National Weather Service's language, that's now making eyeballs sweat on the East Coast. How nasty is it there? Here are a few indicators:
So many people were camped in front of their A/Cs on Friday that New York's power grid reached an all-time usage high. Reports Reuters: "The New York Independent System Operator (NYISO) forecast consumer demand use peaked at 33,955 megawatts on Friday, up from 33,450 MW on Thursday, breaking the state's all-time record of 33,939 MW set in 2006." To use the words of a woman in New York City, where the mercury hit 99, "It feels like I'm living inside of a dog's mouth."
A vast plain of poisonous green slime stretching to the horizon, bobbing gently on the waves -- that was the view of Lake Erie from Cleveland just a couple years ago. It could become a permanent feature if humans don't scramble to do something about it.
Take a closer look at the boxed-in area in the above image (larger version), captured by NASA's Aqua satellite in October 2011:
That's toxic cyanobacteria swirling in the lake waters north of Cleveland. At the time, this slippery stuff covered nearly one-fifth of Erie's surface, becoming the biggest bloom in the lake's recorded history. It looked and smelled awful, turned fishing into a hook-detangling nightmare, and killed untold numbers of marine creatures by hypoxia.
Observant people who've driven through Canada their entire lives may have noticed a shift in their natural surroundings. That is, they're greener: A huge portion of the country, roughly equal to the area of the entire United States, is sprouting thick, luscious new coats of trees and bushland.
Scientists monitoring the Northern American landmass from space have seen it happen over the past three decades, and now they've released data fingering climate change for the unusual boom in vegetation. Writing in Nature Climate Change, researchers with the NASA-funded study say that winters above the U.S.-Canada border are warming up quicker than the summers. That's causing the seasons to blend together, thawing out the ground for longer periods of time and supporting an eruption of "vigorously productive vegetation" covering about 3.5 million square miles.
This burgeoning green bandana wrapped around America's forehead is making the landscape surrounding Canadian cities look more like that of their American brethren. Here's how one of the researchers describes it:
The temperature and vegetation at northern latitudes increasingly resemble those found several degrees of latitude farther south as recently as 30 years ago. ...
"Arctic plant growth during the early 1980s reference period equaled that of lands north of 64 degrees north. Today, just 30 years later, it equals that of lands above 57 degrees north -- a reduction in vegetation seasonality of about seven degrees south in latitude," says co-author Prof. Terry Chapin, Professor Emeritus, University of Alaska, Fairbanks. The change equates to a distance of approximately 480 miles southward.
How's that? Over at NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center in Maryland, Compton Tucker, who participated in the study, says that it's "like Winnipeg, Manitoba, moving to Minneapolis-Saint Paul in only 30 years."
Southern California’s Mount Wilson is a lonesome, hostile peak -- prone to sudden rock falls, sometimes ringed by wildfire -- that nevertheless has attracted some of the greatest minds in modern science.
George Ellery Hale, one of the godfathers of astrophysics, founded the Mount Wilson Observatory in 1904 and divined that sunspots were magnetic. His acolyte Edwin Hubble used a huge telescope, dragged up by mule train, to prove the universe was expanding. Even Albert Einstein made a pilgrimage in the 1930s to hobnob with the astronomers (and suffered a terrible hair day, a photo shows).
Today, Mount Wilson is the site of a more terrestrial but no less ambitious endeavor. Scientists from NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, Calif., and elsewhere are turning the entire Los Angeles metro region into a state-of-the-art climate laboratory. From the ridgeline, they deploy a mechanical lung that senses airborne chemicals and a unique sunbeam analyzer that scans the skies over the Los Angeles Basin. At a sister site at the California Institute of Technology, researchers slice the clouds with a shimmering green laser, trap air samples in glass flasks, and stare at the sun with a massive mirrored contraption that looks like God’s own microscope.
These folks are the foot soldiers in an ambitious interagency initiative called the Megacities Carbon Project. They’ve been probing L.A.’s airspace for more than a year, with the help of big-name sponsors like the National Institute of Standards and Technology, the Keck Institute for Space Studies, and the California Air Resources Board. If all goes well, by 2015 the Megacities crew and colleagues working on smaller cities such as Indianapolis and Boston will have pinned down a slippery piece of climate science: an empirical measurement of a city’s carbon footprint.
If that doesn’t sound like something Einstein would scarf down energy bars and hoof up a mountain to check out, give it time. It promises to be a groundbreaking development in the worldwide fight against global warming.