SOHO scientists think that coronal mass ejection that happens right after the comet hits the Sun was probably not caused by the collision. But it looks really cool.
SETI has been forced to put its Allen Telescope Array into hibernation due to lack of funding. Its a sad day for exploration of the cosmos. They’re asking for help from the public to keep going.
Shreerang Chhatre is working on a mesh that captures droplets of fog from the air to provide water in places where drinkable water is hard to get.
Chhatre is working on this at MIT which has some interesting programs for people interested in social action. He’s in the Chemical Engineering program but works with their Legatum Center for Development and Entrepreneurship.
The cold fronts of mid-latitude cyclones bring thunderstorms, rain and spawn tornadoes like the ones we’ve seen over the last few days. In the spring and fall, these cyclones just sweep across the southern U.S. again and again. The line of their passage sort-of marks the northward migration of the sub-polar low in picture of the global atmospheric circulation system.
Each individual front, with its storms, is a feature of the weather. Climate, on the other hand, is the result of the average position over time: the series of fronts which make the southern U.S. wet in the spring and fall.
The sub-polar low is not the only feature that brings lots of seasonal rain. The ITCZ does also, and the rains that the ITCZ’s movement north and south of the equator bring, are what we call the monsoons. The yellow star on the animation, just to the north of the equator, sees monsoonal rains in the summer. Since the ITCZ follows the sun with the seasons, the monsoons always come in the summer; even in the southern hemisphere.
Just in time for us to learn about global change, this interesting study on the expanding range of brown recluse spiders came out. Once restricted to the southern U.S. and the midwest, future climate change will allow them to expand north to Minnesota and east into Pennsylvania.
The researchers, Saupe et al. (2011), used ecological niche modeling. This method takes known information about where the spiders live, such as climate (e.g. summer temperatures) or topography (e.g. mountains versus plains), to figure out the current extent of their ecological niche. Then they use climate models to figure out where those same conditions will apply in the future. Thus the spiders march north.
The Glue Society has a most interesting set of satellite images modified to look like major biblical scenes. CreativeReview has more pictures and details, including of the crucifixion and Noah’s Ark.
“We like to disorientate audiences a little with all our work. And with this piece we felt technology now allows events which may or may not have happened to be visualized and made to appear dramatically real,” say The Glue Society’s James Dive. “As a method of representation satellite photography is so trusted, it has been interesting to mess with that trust.”
— CreativeReview (2007): The Bible According To Google Earth
I think this topic came up when we were talking about atmospheric circulation. The question was about if the winds generated descending, diverging air could have parted the Red Sea. The answer was no, because the general atmospheric circulation system is a thing of climate — averages of the weather — while any winds strong enough to part the red sea would be actual weather, like the storms we seem to have been seeing every day for the last few weeks.
Oddly enough, just last year researchers from the University Corporation for Atmospheric Research (UCAR) did a computer model that showed that hurricane force winds from the northwest could have uncovered an underwater reef to allow Moses his passage (the article is Drews and Han, 2010).
However, the scientists found:
[The] reef would have had to be entirely flat for the water to drain off in 12 hours. A more realistic reef with lower and deeper sections would have retained channels that would have been difficult to wade through. In addition, Drews and Han were skeptical that refugees could have crossed during nearly hurricane-force winds.
— NCAR & UCAR News Center (2010): Parting the waters: Computer modeling applies physics to Red Sea escape route.
IN addition to the global graphs, there are a lot of really neat graphs showing:
separate graphs from the tropics versus the northern hemisphere versus the southern hemisphere (the different latitude bands);
the difference between the northern and southern hemispheres;
the U.S. only;
seasonal changes.
The graphs typically show the temperature anomaly, which is the difference in temperature from the normal. The “normal” is taken to be the average temperature between 1951 and 1980.
The first thing you notice is a small, rickety bridge whose main job is to keep your feet dry as you cross a very small stream. The stream is on its delta, so the ground is very soggy, and the channel is just about start its many bifurcations into distributaries that fan out and create the characteristic deltaic shape.
There’s a bright orange flocculate on the quieter parts of the stream bed. It’s the color of fresh rust, which leads me to suspect it’s some sort of iron precipitate.
Iron minerals in the sediments and bedrock of the watershed are dissolved by groundwater, but when that water discharges into the stream it becomes oxygenated as air mixes in. The dissolved iron reacts with the oxygen to create the fine orange precipitate. Sometimes, the chemical reaction is abiotic, other times it’s aided by bacteria (Kadlec and Wallace, 2009).
Past the small delta, the trail follows the lake as it curves around into another, much bigger estuary (see map above). We found much evidence of flora and fauna, including signs of beavers.
We even took the time to toss some sticks into the water to watch the waves. With a single stick, you can see the wave dissipate as it expands, much like I tried to model for the height of a tsunami. We also threw in multiple sticks to create interference patterns.
The Oak Ridge Trail, which we followed, diverges from the somewhat longer Pin Oak Trail at the large estuary (which is marked on the map). The Pin Oak Trail takes you through some beautiful stands of conifers, offering the chance to talk about different ecological communities, but we did not have the time to see both trails.
Instead, we followed the Oak Ridge Trail up the ridge (through one small stand of pines) until it met the road. The road is on the other side of the watershed divide. I emphasized the concept by having my students stand in a line across the divide and point in the direction of that a drop of water, rolling across the ground, would flow.
Then I told them that we’d get back by following our fictitious water droplet off the ridge into the valley. And we did, traipsing through the leaf-carpeted woods.
Of course there were no water droplets flowing across the surface. Unless its actively raining, water tends to sink down into the soil and flow through the ground until it gets to the bottom of the valley, where it emerges as springs. Even before you see the first spring, though, you can see the gullies carved by overland flow during storms.
Following the small stream was quite enjoyable. It was small enough to jump across, and there were some places where the stream had bored short sections of tunnels beneath its bed.
I took the time to observe the beautiful moss that maintained the banks of the stream. Students took the time to observe the environment.
Downstream the valley got wider and wider, and the stream cut deeper and deeper into the valley floor, but even the small stream sought to meander back and forth, creating beautiful little point bars and cut-banks.
As the stream approached its estuary it would stagnate in places. There, buried leaves and organic matter would decay under the sediment and water in anoxic conditions, rendering their oils and producing natural gas. We’re going to be talking about global warming and the carbon cycle next week so I was quite enthused when students pointed out the sheen of oils glistening on isolated pools of stagnant water.
Finally, we returned to the estuary. It’s much larger than the first one we saw, and it’s flat, swampy with lots of distributaries, and chock full of the sediment and debris of the watershed above it.
This less than three kilometer hike took the best part of two hours. But that’s pretty fast if you value your dawdling.