(click to enlarge)
Today seemed a dull day, with chores, Childcare, a search for a new truck, hiring a thirteen-year-old to help weed in the garden, and some work on my blog consuming the hours in a way that make even the longest days of the year seem too short: I work like crazy, but in the end it is seemingly the same old same old, and nothing seems to change.
That may be why I like weather maps. The above map shows that a lot has changed. Even when the weather out the window seems fairly dull, the map shows a lot going on.
The media likes hurricanes and tornadoes, but the map shows Chantal has become a fairly featureless feature over Cuba. I’m keeping a keen eye on that featureless feature, in case it develops north of Cuba and attempts a sneak-attack up the coast.
I also note features the media could care less about. Up here we flirt with both Georgia steam-heat and Coast-of Maine-clammy-fog, and the boundary between the two is often defined by a back-door-front undulating north and south of us. Now, at the height of summer, the battle between the two powers becomes, at times, an almost permanent feature, however the above map shows that feature, which crept to our south a couple of days ago, did not creep back, but blew right by and now is a warm front way up by Newfoundland.
So we had a night like Georgia, with temperatures in the seventies and dew-points in the seventies. Complete misery, but I sort of like it. It is like I have traveled to some exotic, tropic land, without all the bother and expense of plane tickets, or getting frisked at airports.
Then, today, though it was over seventy at sunrise, temperatures couldn’t even rise ten degrees, as the battle between the two powers reasserted. This time it was a front-door cold front, pushed by a cool pool of Canadian air in the form of a high pressure to our west.
However, rather than charging by and bathing us in dry winds, the front is coming to a screaming halt. South of us the Bermuda High is challenging the Polar Power. Already the map shows that south of us the cold front has become a stationary front. It will become stationary just south of here as well, and we again will be bathed in an east wind, a glorified sea-breeze from the coast of Maine, and here in the mountains I’ll dream of the cry of gulls, and the clanking of steel halyards against steel masts on harbor-bound yachts, and the hoot of fog-horns out to sea.
And that front? It will sit there on maps, and then they will ignore it, and it will become a ghost front.
I wrote of the last ghost front a few days ago, and it only pushed by this morning, messing up the poor weathermen’s forecasts in the process. How? Simply guessing, I think they expected the thunder to concentrate along the nice, neat cold front they drew on the map, but it actually concentrated well ahead of that front, along the ghost front, far ahead of the “official” front. In other words, the real weather happened by what they stopped recognizing five days ago, and not by what they took the time to recognize here and now.
(Sometimes, when I look at these maps, I feel like an old lady looking at tea-leaves. I see a sort of analogy, as the powers meet and clash, and then what psychologists call “projection” gets involved, and, if I was a total fool, I might infer….but I will not go there.)
An interesting thing might happen, as the cold front becomes a stationary front and then a ghost front. The Canadian High, which seems so different from a Bermuda High, (so cool and dry as opposed to warm and steamy,) will no longer be separated by a front from the Bermuda High, and will actually merge with it. The attack of the Canadian High will, in the end, make the Bermuda High stronger, and we’ll get some real tropical steam up here next week.
So I’d best get work done during this second reprieve from the heat, because next week I’ll likely want to sit back and watch the corn grow.