None of us likes to admit to something we don’t comprehend,
especially when it is an everyday phenomenon that we think everyone
around us understands.
None of us likes to admit to something we don’t comprehend, especially when it is an everyday phenomenon that we think everyone around us understands. But, as is normally the case in these situations, it is a safe bet that if we don’t understand it, no one else does either.
How much time has the average middle-aged man spent in front of the TV watching football? Enough that he should be able to write a thorough and scholarly volume on the nuances of the game. But, no. Throw, catch, run, block and tackle; that’s about all we know. If you ask the average football fan which player in the nickel defense is supposed to cover the tight end when the offense lines up with three wide receivers, they won’t know.
The same is true of the stock market. Analysts “explain” that movements in the market are a result of the trade deficit, or the weak dollar, or concerns about terrorism. We can take comfort in knowing that, while we have no idea what drives the stock market, the analysts don’t either. If you don’t believe me, check your 401(k).
And then there is the weather. The weatherman shows us his satellite pictures on which he draws a loopy line showing the path of the jet stream zigzagging across the continent. Here’s a “ridge of high pressure”, there’s a “warm front” followed by a “cold front” which will result in an “off-shore flow.” We don’t know what the weatherman is talking about until he says, “Tomorrow’s weather will be …”
Occasionally, my ignorance becomes more than I can bear, and I attempt to reduce it. What do the things we observe in the sky tell us about what is coming and why? Animals and native peoples who live closer to the land seem to know what is coming without Pete Gidding’s help. So can we.
I found a simple … SIMPLE book about weather and started asking easy questions. Last week, a storm system passed through Central California. Why did the wind, which comes out of the north during fair weather, become a southerly wind when a storm approached? A longtime local farmer illustrated the point by telling me that if the pigeons on the telephone line are facing south, rain is coming. And why are the winds coming from the south when the storm is coming from the north?
Weather, all weather, is driven by the sun and the fact that it heats the earth unevenly. One area, the tropics for example, get very warm and the air rises. Other areas, like the polar regions, receive little solar energy, so the air cools and sinks. These variations create a hodge-podge of temperature and pressure differences that keep our atmosphere constantly moving.
Any one who has a teapot knows that air travels from an area of high pressure (inside the teapot) to an area of lower pressure (the kitchen). Storms approaching from the north are low-pressure areas. While it seems logical that winds should be coming from the turbulent center of the storm, instead the low-pressure area at the storm’s center north of us pulls air from the surrounding higher-pressure areas, thus the southerly (from the south) wind.
When the pigeons, which land into the wind (notice also the change in landing and taking-off direction at San Jose Airport and San Martin), start facing south, they are staring into a breeze that is moving from our higher pressure area to the low-pressure storm on its way here from the north.
Keep an eye out. When flags and pigeon tails are pointing north, look for high wispy, feathery cirrus clouds. If you see these things, even if it is a beautiful day, I wouldn’t rush out and wash the car.
