Winter Weather Whiffs

It’s cold and gray outside, as is typical for the middle of January.  Like many people in Springfield last week, I tuned in to the weather forecast daily in advance of the latest storm system, expecting some ice and possibly a few inches of snow.  Instead, I got two days of cold, dreary rain.  This wasn’t the first winter storm forecast to miss the mark for my location this season; in Oklahoma City this December, we braced for several inches of snow then got nothing at all.  Taken together, these incidents beg the question: has our forecasting gotten worse of late?  The short answer is probably not, but it’s a substantial question that I’m sure meteorologists are striving to answer.

Snow accumulation totals are notoriously difficult to predict.  It’s easy enough to calculate the amount of precipitable water in the atmosphere from sounding measurements.  However, when this precipitation comes down as something other than rain, it’s much harder to gauge.  An inch of rain has approximately the same amount of water as 2 inches of sleet.  That might be 5 inches of wet snow, or over a foot of dry powder.  Winter weather associated with cold fronts often begins as rain then turns to an incalculable wintry mix before snow ever starts to fall, and in many cases the snow won’t initially stick to the ground.  Combined with the fact that snow accumulates unevenly, especially in windy conditions and rough terrain, it’s actually quite impressive when a snowfall prediction is spot on.  But this doesn’t absolve the recent snowy forecasts that yielded nothing but drizzle.

This is where predicting the freezing point location accurately over time is critical.  Existing meteorological models such as the GFS do an excellent job predicting the east-west position of a mid-level pressure low, nailing the time of a storm crossing a longitude to within a few hours nearly a week in advance.  But the north-south position has proven more difficult to master, as it depends on more complicated atmospheric forcings from both sides of the boundary.  Global climate change has been implicated in a gradual increase in the variability of the jet stream, perhaps causing greater uncertainty in the north-south position of storm systems.  And of course, predicting the location of the freezing point is a challenge in itself, as 1 or 2 degrees on either side of 32 °F can make a big difference in the severity of a winter storm.  In the most recent case, Springfield hovered around 33 °F while areas just 30 miles north and east weathered a significant ice and snow event.  Another 60 miles northeast and there were local snowfall accumulations of over a foot.  In essence, it’s a bit of a crapshoot and always has been.  While forecasts rightly expected central Missouri to experience the most snowfall, up to a foot, they largely missed the several inches that fell on much of Kansas.

As with practically everything else weather-related, I truly think the answer to improving our forecasts is an emphasis on ground-level features.  As of Saturday evening, Greene County was the only county in Missouri without ice or snow accumulation from this storm system.  Springfield’s urban heat island may have raised the temperature of the lower atmosphere just enough to prevent freezing rain from solidifying as ice, as counties to the south and west (away from the storm and on the ‘warm’ side of the system) had ice on bridges and elevated structures.  In the same way that ‘lake effect’ snowstorms pummel Cleveland and Buffalo up north, smaller features around here likely have their own constructive or destructive effects on winter precipitation, albeit in a subtler way.  To close, I’d like to share an interesting example of a snow band downwind of a power plant in Nebraska, captured by NWS Omaha in December.  Note that the distance between the source, just outside Norfolk, and Lincoln is about 100 miles…incredible!

Link to radar loop

Sightseeing in Sydney

En route to New Zealand a few months ago, I had a three-day stopover in Sydney, a city defined by its iconic harbor but harboring a vibrant blend of nature, architecture, and culture.  To get there, I only took the second-longest flight currently in operation, a 16-hour hop from Dallas to Sydney (which wasn’t nearly as bad as it sounds, having 2 adjacent seats to myself).  Surprisingly well rested upon arrival, I set straight off for sightseeing.  After the double-decker subway ride into the city, I popped up in the central green, right at the base of the landmark Westfield Sky Tower.  Immediately, I was struck by the abundance of life in the park: beautiful spotted ibis puttering around like pigeons, a few colorful parakeets fluttering in the trees, and bright white cockatoos screeching in a flock.  These loud birds would serve as a wake-up alarm the following mornings, a brutally Australian way to ward off jetlag.

I checked in at the East Sydney Hotel, a modest Victorian-era bar and inn in the quiet neighborhood of Woolloomooloo.  I could have chatted with the proprietor, Sam, for hours — the Aussie old guard are so friendly, spinning casual conversation into the inexplicable feeling that you’ve known them for a long time.  But I was mad hungry, so I walked down to the wharf and picked up a couple of meat pies.  This would become a daily routine for me in New Zealand: breakfast pies have a range of savory fillings — from traditional mincemeat or chicken soup to Indian-style curry chicken or decadent lamb and mint — that I had a tasty and filling breakfast every day on the cheap.  I sat on the wharf while I ate, just meters from a line of active duty battleships, as uniformed naval personnel passed in one direction while wealthy brunchgoers passed in the other.

It was a positively beautiful morning, and I enjoyed taking in postcard views of the downtown skyline and opera house while walking around historic Macquarie’s Point.  The Botanical Gardens are quite nice, though decidedly not peaceful on that Saturday with all the cockatoos, sprinklers, and other noise from the youth science festival that was happening on the lawn.  I finally made it around to the iconic Sydney Opera House by late morning.  It’s quite different than I expected: first off (and maybe this is the jetlag talking), its silver surface was blindingly bright in the sun, making it hard to take pictures or even look at.  Built in the late 60s/early 70s, the iconic shape is supported by thick concrete girders, so the view from below looks a bit like a highway underpass.  The ‘opera house’ is actually a complex of three separate buildings, two adjacent opera halls and a smaller bar/restaurant in front.  Something I did expect: the plaza was packed with tourists from all over the world.  Standing on the steps of this world famous landmark was a bit underwhelming, to be honest, in part because I didn’t take the tour of the inside.  But the views of the opera house from afar are just exquisite, and I spent the next three days taking pictures of all its best angles.

I was hungry again, so I set off for Chinatown.  Slowly, of course: one of my favorite parts of wandering through a city is “window shopping.”  But I’m not much of a shopper, I’m mostly looking for fun things to do or interesting things to eat.  Through the first door was a colorful escalator up to the National Opal Collection, a large jewelry store with a mini-museum of Australian opals of all colors and sizes.  Most intriguing were the opalized fossils: dinosaur bones, trilobites, and petrified wood encased by an opalescent silica sheen.  Moving further along, I peeked into the city hall and St. Andrew’s Cathedral, two Victorian brownstone landmarks with Gothic-style accents and prickish security guards.  Brief forays into a record shop and a dusty used bookstore, each lined floor to ceiling with a mostly familiar but distinctly Australian spread of media young and old, then I finally arrived at my destination.

Chinatown: it’s like another world within Sydney, overwhelming to all the senses but also a gastronomic paradise.  Over the course of 2 days, I had a total of 6 meals here, some adventurous and all exceptional.  Chinatown Noodle King served up an incredible lo mein with thick homemade noodles stir-fried with vegetables in a savory brown paste.  I followed it with a small plate of fried gyoza and a boba tea from one of the many indoor “street food” vendors.  A plate of Indonesian hot chicken that started a blaze which spread quickly from the mouth to bursting throughout my entire head.  A soothing bowl of pumpkin soup from a Peruvian breakfast cafe across the street.  Cambodian curried chicken fried rice.  Malaysian spicy peanut chicken skewers.  I did my best Anthony Bourdain and noshed away my jetlag, pensively observing the throngs of people, diverse in ethnicity and life experience, partaking wordlessly in a large-scale cultural exchange.  An unbelievably satisfying time, and perhaps the best string of meals I’ve had in any city I’ve visited!

Beyond a strong Asian influence, Sydney also celebrates a rich maritime tradition, best captured by its Maritime Museum on Darling Harbour.  I explored the history of Australian seafaring in chronological order, from a life-size replica of Captain Cook’s Endeavor to a World War II-era naval patrol boat to a modern submarine.  Sydney Harbour is dotted with a range of watercraft — sailboats, ferries, tugboats, tour boats, and more — and I imagine the summer months bring more water traffic to this boat-friendly city.  Sydney evokes many elements of San Francisco and Seattle, most notably in its warm winter climate and multi-generational wealthy class.  The old Aussie elite may prefer their lawn bowling clubs while the younger up-and-comers favor progressive fashion and an Instagram-able lifestyle, but Sydney’s visible high cultures give the city an unmistakable air of opulence.

After falling asleep early on Saturday evening, I awoke to the sound of helicopters circling my little neighborhood inn.  Turns out that just a few short blocks away was the starting line for the City2Surf half marathon, a huge city-wide event with over 10,000 participants running from downtown to Bondi Beach.  So rather than going to Bondi as planned, I set off opposite the flow of runners toward the central green, stepping into the brownstone St. James Cathedral just in time to catch the entire catholic mass.  Then a couple hours at the Australian Museum, featuring a two-story world anthropology exhibit from the 1800s and a very impressive collection of minerals and crystals.  I tried a ‘hopper’ for lunch, an elevated Sri Lankan entree of spicy curried meat served with a runny egg in a flaky bowl-shaped pancake.  While the Indonesian hot chicken was more of a ‘controlled burn’ lighting just my head on fire, the black curry lamb was a raging conflagration from entry to exit, hands down the spiciest meal I’ve eaten (and enjoyed, unexpectedly).

After that fire show, I ventured across the street to where Google Maps showed a curious landmark labeled “Australian Museum of Magical Arts.”  Intrigued, I looked around the perimeter of the unmarked building, where the dusty glass door displayed a few fliers for old magic shows and a sign with plain type reading “Tours daily at 1:30, by reservation.”  I reserved my spot, waited, then at about 1:40, a man materialized in the doorway, dressed in black and with jet black hair that hung like curtains around his face.  This was James Karp, the resident magician, and he led an exclusive behind-the-scenes tour of his magic show.  I took the Magician’s Oath, which means I can’t share his tricks, illusions, or diversions.  But I know them!  And I met his disappearing dove.  It was really interesting learning from this guy, who trained in Las Vegas 25 years ago and has been a full devotee to the magician’s craft ever since — but he may have ruined magic shows for me forever, a possible side effect of enlightenment.

Late in the afternoon, I decided to take the bus down to the famous Bondi Beach, hoping the crowds had since subsided.  Due to…the language barrier maybe, I mistakenly boarded the wrong bus for another part of the coast.  I passed the expansive Centennial Park with the national rugby stadium and finally got off at UNSW-Sydney.  Across the campus and over a large hill and I soon arrived at the coastal neighborhood of Coogee, with a beautiful seaside park full of Instagram dogs and their owners enjoying the last hour of a beautiful Sunday.  I bought a Thai tea on the main drag (even the suburban commercial streets in Australia and New Zealand feature small businesses run by immigrants from all over the world) then set off on the Coogee-to-Bondi walk, a beautiful 3.8-mile trek along a picturesque coastline of sandy coves and rocky peninsulas with high cliffs.  It was a long walk, though, especially with the delays.  First, I got chased off of a movie set not once but twice — without even catching a glimpse of the actors, I’m so disappointed in myself.  Second, the path was diverted into the historic Waverley Cemetery, a large hillside with an ocean view packed wall-to-wall with marble tombs and statues, made even more eerie by the orange glow of sunset. Third, I lost the last 20 or so minutes of daylight when an EMS helicopter landed right in front of me as I approached Bronte Beach — it was unclear whether there was an incident or rescue, but the Aussies and I sure tried to glean that information!  It was pitch dark when I finally arrived at Bondi, which was oddly deserted with several blocks of empty event tents.  I ate Colombian comfort food in one of the few open establishments I could find then boarded the correct bus back to my hotel.

For my last morning in Sydney, I woke up before dawn and ran to the Harbour Bridge in order to catch the sunrise over the Opera House, which was just spectacular as pictured above.  I continued my run along the north side of the harbor, passing by the sailboat marinas of old wealth neighborhoods as I stopped at practically every beach for a new vista of the downtown skyline and the iconic bridge.  Around Cremorne Point with its quiet park and adorable little lighthouse, over the steep hills of the San Francisco-esque neighborhood of Mosman, and past the Taronga Zoo, several miles later I ended up at a quiet sandbar in the Sydney Harbour National Park, where I took my shoes off and relaxed on the beach.  My feet hurt from all the ground I had covered, but I had a wonderful time in Sydney.  It’s a dynamic city with no shortage of fun activities to do and new things to try.  Feeling satisfied, I took the ferry back to downtown, refueled on a couple more Chinatown meals, and headed to the airport, certain I will return again to the city that has it all.

New Year’s Resolutions

A new year provides a fresh opportunity to be the person you want to be.  At least that’s how I look at it.  I’ve made a New Year’s resolution practically every year since I was maybe 12 years old, usually to no avail.  Write a page each day, finish a novel – nope.  Keep my bedroom clean, all the time – good principle, but no.  Quit doing the thing that teenage boys do behind closed doors, cold turkey – ha.  Finish homework well ahead of the deadline, before watching a single YouTube video – nice try.  Practice Spanish daily, become fluent – nada.  Days or weeks into the new year, I would succumb to a moment of weakness, which would inevitably kill my resolve for the rest of the year.  I felt like an abject failure, lacking the willpower to follow through with what I perceived as a simple assignment.  In many cases, I felt that I was worse off after the New Year’s resolution, with the same complacent habits and a bruised ego to boot.

About 5 years ago, I finally made a resolution that I could stick to: floss daily.  Sure, it’s not impressive and didn’t make me a better person.  But I actually managed to keep it, flossing every night until August, a streak of over 200 days.  Best of all, when I broke the resolution, I had already ingrained flossing into my bedtime routine and continued flossing maybe 4-5 times a week.  No gut punch of guilt, no kick to the man parts.  What I learned is that the healthiest resolutions involve modifying snap decision-making rather than forcing myself to persevere in the face of distraction or temptation.  Adversity makes everyone fall from time to time, and it’s not worth beating yourself up over failing to fulfill a resolution on any given day, regardless of how simple the resolution may appear.

I took rewiring my snap decision-making a step further with last year’s resolution, and I’m quite pleased by the results.  After leaving Houston in 2014 to focus on my career, I had developed a few blind spots for other people in worse situations, most glaringly the homeless among us.  At worst, I’d walk by without even registering the presence of a homeless person, averting my eyes out of guilt or personal discomfort.  So my resolution for 2018 was to give something to every visibly needy person that I encountered, a small act of blind charity, no judgments or qualifiers.  A few times it was food, but most of the time it was a dollar or few.  But it wasn’t about the money, turns out the eye contact was more meaningful than anything else.  Simply dignifying their humanity, actively recognizing their situations while respecting their autonomy, seemed to mean the world to most of the people I encountered.  In turn, the experience was quite rewarding for me, and it mattered less to me that some of my offerings were undoubtedly spent on cigarettes or booze than that these people felt noticed and respected in that moment.

So what am I resolving to change this year?  My overarching goal is to produce more for the world than I consume, but that’s too nebulous to be an effective resolution.  An immediate step I am taking is to reintegrate regular volunteering into my schedule: now that I am living in Springfield, I can commit to helping out consistently and stand to gain  in return a deeper connection with the city.  I’ve spent the last 2+ years focusing on producing a model for predicting tornadoes, sacrificing other altruistic endeavors for something that I’ve largely kept under wraps to this point.  I’d like to make a point to actively share this work, for instance by building a web server to enable third-party use of the risk mapping algorithms.  And of course, cutting consumption of unnecessary media (my main distraction) by small, reasonable amounts will also improve my life.  Rather than assessing these goals as pass/fail, I’ll be satisfied if I can be “incrementally better” as my ideal self, a member of society who is perceptive of those in need and generous in helping with his own means and talents.  To a fulfilling 2019!