CHAPTER VI

THE SEASONS

Too great emphasis cannot be laid upon the futility, at present, of trying

to forecast the weather for more than a very few days in advance. Long

range efforts are not made by the Bureau because with its present limited

knowledge of the factors that control seasons and with the present limited

facilities for collecting data the process of looking into next month has

not been perfected, and the attempt to investigate next winter's weather

proves scientifically impossible.

As usual, fakers step in where science fears to tread. With goose-bones

(not their own) and hickory nuts they prophesy with all their might. And

if their prophecies come true, as sometimes they must, there is wide

rejoicing in the newspapers and the cause of science is set back by just

so much. But science cannot be thwarted in the end and every year new

discoveries are made, new speculations proved true or forever false, and

some time, doubtless, the weather will be predicted from year to year

with the same 85% accuracy with which the 36 hour forecast is now made.

Experimenting is worth the little that it costs, too, for to know when the

summer is to be dry or wet, hot or cold will be a boon to everybody and to

the farmer most of all.

One conclusion has already been reached by officials in the Weather Bureau

and scientists generally. It has been decided by long search through

creditable records, painstaking comparisons of averages coupled with the

most accurate investigations for half a century, that, on the basis of ten

years, our seasons do not change. That is, counting the decade as a unit,

our weather keeps to the same level of efficiency through the centuries.

This statement comes always as a blow. It always provokes argument and

citations of grandmother's blizzards. There is a great and universal

hesitation in believing that our weather is as good to-day as it used to

be. The good old times when there was a general debauch of snow and you

could skate all winter on anything but the Atlantic Ocean certainly appear

no more. As a matter of fact there has been a change, but it has been in

our memories. In grandmother's youth the trains,--if they had trains

then,--doubtless were stalled by a big snow for then they did not have

rotary plows. In father's day they may have had an unbroken winter of

sleighing. We couldn't now; sleighs are extinct. But in our time, in fact

every year, some record is being broken and the records go back a

respectable length of time.

For example in Philadelphia the most accurate records made by standard

instruments have been kept for 43 years. During this time the highest wind

velocity was recorded in 1878 (75 miles an hour). The greatest rainfall in

24 hours occurred in 1898 (5.89 inches). The lowest temperature was

registered in 1899 (6 degrees below zero); the highest in 1901 (103

degrees). The greatest number of thunderstorms for any one year took place

in 1905 when we had 51. As late as 1909 the heaviest snowfall ever

recorded at this station, amounting to 21 inches, occurred. And just a few

weeks ago (April 3rd, 1915) it snowed 19 inches in half as many hours. All

these items do not indicate a climate decreasing in virility very swiftly.

But there is more evidence yet that Philadelphia is experiencing the same

varieties of weather in about the same proportions. Diaries of observant

men running back to 1700 show that almost any kind of memory could be

founded on fact, that the same violent changes in temperature, the same

deep snows and unseasonable seasons that we endure to-day were noticed

then. To quote:

"The whole winter of 1780 was intensely cold. The Delaware was closed from

the 1st of December to the 14th of March. The ice was from two to three

feet thick." We despaired of ever living up to this until three years ago

when the same thing happened and sleighs crossed the river a little above

the city. And despite the new ice-boats!

"The winter of 1779 was very mild, particularly the month of February when

trees were in blossom."

"On the 31st of December, 1764, the Delaware was frozen completely over in

one night, and the weather continued cold until the 28th of March with

snow about two and a half feet deep."

"The winter of 1756 was very mild. The first snow was as late as the 18th

of March."

And so it goes. 1750 was mild; 1742 "one of the coldest since the

settlement of the country"; 1741 was intensely cold, 1725 mild, 1714 very

mild after the 15th of January, 1697 long, stormy and severely cold. The

upshot of it all is that February violets and April snows were just as

well known to General Washington as they are to us.

[Illustration: NIMBUS

_Courtesy of Richard F. Warren_

Nimbus is any cloud from which rain is falling, and the important thing to

know is how to judge from the formless thing how much longer it is to

rain. The wind is the surest guide. In this picture the nimbus cloud is

only that at the end of the cape. All the rest is torn stratus and

cumulus, which needs to condense a little further before it becomes

nimbus. This will likely happen because the cloud at the left is very

dark. The broken appearance denotes some wind. Rain does not fall from a

mottled sky nor yet a streaky one; the nimbus is uniform in appearance. In

summer a break in the nimbus will show a veil of cirro-stratus above. Just

nimbus by itself will not support much of a storm. In winter if the nimbus

is particularly seamless snow is about to fall.]

But though all facts point to the fact that the climate does not change in

a decade or a generation or a dozen generations, there is some comfort for

those who are not satisfied in knowing that it doesn't stay the same

forever. During the carboniferous times the poles were as warm as the

tropics and when the Ice Age came on it was very chilly everywhere. If one

might only live an eon or two he might then well complain of the changing

climate.

Climate, however, is one thing, weather another. The climate is the sum

total of the weather. Climate is as enduring as our Constitution, the

weather is as changeable as our city governments. No matter how proud a

scientist may be of the lasting qualities of the climate, he has to admit

that our weather, taken day by day or even year by year, is versatile in

the extreme. And the question he has set himself to solve is how to

explain the variations of the seasonable weather. He wants to find out why

all winters are not alike, and why no two successive springs are the same.

Then he will be on firm ground at last and able to make scientific

forecasts for the ensuing year.

The obvious thing was to find out as accurately as possible what had

happened and science's keenest eye was focused on records in the hope of

discovering fixed periods of warmth or wetness, cycles of cold and

drought. So far no cycles have been discovered that are beyond dispute.

Nothing has been found that cannot be contradicted successfully. This is

discouraging.

One of the most frequent starting places for investigators is the spots on

the sun. They found that periods of three, eight, eleven, and thirty-five

years should bear some resemblance; 1901 was eagerly looked forward to.

They wanted it to correspond with the remarkably cool summer of 1867. When

it started off in July with a temperature of 103 degrees, the highest ever

recorded in Philadelphia, they concluded that the sunspots were fooling

them. A connection between sunspots and weather has not been established,

therefore, although they are now known to affect the electrical condition

of the earth's atmosphere. Longer periods of observation will permit

comparisons that may yet define concurrent cycles of sunspots and weather.

A definite weather cycle has not yet been discovered, but one step in the

way has been cleared up. We now are pretty sure of one cause for unusual

single seasons of heat and cold.

There exist in winter great bodies of cold, dry air heaped up over Canada

and Siberia, which are formed by the greater rapidity of radiation over

land surfaces than over water. These mounds of cold air build up during

December, January, and February and form great so-called permanent areas

of high barometer. It is on the skirts of the Canadian high that the

smaller highs form which sweep over our country, giving us our cold waves.

Also in winter permanent lows form over the North Pacific and North

Atlantic where warm currents afford continuous supplies of warm moist air.

From the great Aleutian (Pacific) low spring most of the cyclones which

swing down below the border of the Canadian high, make their turn

somewhere in the Mississippi Valley, and then head for the Icelandic low.

It can be seen that if the Canadian high is a little stronger than usual

and spreads a little farther south, then the northern half of our country

will come more directly under its influence and we will experience an

unusually severe winter. As the storms are pushed south and as the cold

air pours into the northern quadrants the snow line is pushed south too.

Hence all abnormally snowy winters are caused by a strengthening of the

permanent Canadian high which may be central anywhere north of our Dakota

or Montana borders.

Conversely, if this high is weaker than usual the cyclones can cross the

country on a line farther north, there will be less snow, and the cold

waves that follow will be less severe or even non-existent.

In summer the reverse occurs. Great oceanic highs are built up over the

South Atlantic and South Pacific and a permanent low occupies the center

of our continent. The character of the season is determined by the

strength and position of these areas. The eastern states are affected

especially by the slow movements of the South Atlantic low. The puzzle is

why should these areas change their power and position, and if they must

change why don't they do it regularly? The puzzle will undoubtedly be

solved. These great centers of action will be plotted against and observed

from every vantage point by a thousand observers. A fascinating field for

scientific speculation opens.

At present our Government exchanges daily observations with stations in

Siberia, Canada, and the West Indies. The great storm-breeder, the

Aleutian Low, is watched from Alaskan shores. In the Atlantic the Bureau

needs stationary ships to record the growth and decline of the High over

the Azores. Knowledge of the wind circulation from this would inform us

whether our storms were to be shunted farther north and pushed somewhat

inland. A storm which is pushed to the left of its normal track increases

tremendously in intensity. Whereas a cyclone that limps slackly to the

right of its normal line loses intensity at once. It misses coil. In this

respect storms seem to resemble rattlesnakes.

The energy of the Azores High influences the number and destructiveness of

the West Indian hurricanes: the larger the area is the closer do the

hurricanes hug our shores and the more destruction do they accomplish.

The very sureness that the general average of the seasons is to be the

same enables us to guess pretty accurately for individual purposes as to

the kind of season coming next. A guess, let me add, is not a forecast. It

is a gamble and disapproved of by the Bureau, but until they supply us

with a basis for judgment we will have to go on guessing, for human

curiosity is as near to perpetual motion as the weather is to the lacking

fourth dimension.

One of these guesses is that if the winter has been a warm one the summer

will be cool, for the very good reason that the yearly average does depart

so slightly from the fixture. Unfortunately one hot summer does not mean

that the following summer will be cool. Certain sequences of the seasons

have been observed often enough to have been gathered into proverbs.

Everybody agrees that "A late spring never deceives." "A year of snow,

Fruit will grow." "A green winter makes a full churchyard."

Of the many hundreds of proverbs relating to the seasons a few are sage,

some outworn, and many sheer nonsense. Nearly all refer to the obvious

fact that one kind of season is followed by another rather unlike it, not

much telling what. And there, unsatisfactorily enough, they leave one. But

much is to be hoped for from the scientific explorations now in progress.

And until they are heard from few of us will realize how many seasonable

seasons we really enjoy.

Reading the Weather · 第 6 / 8 章