Light and Heat: A Love Story — Peter Goble (@ColoradoClimate)

Click the link to read the article on the Colorado Climate Center website (Peter Goble):

February 14, 2025

Happy Valentine’s Day! Every mid-February we take a day to let our romantic partners know how much they mean to us, or perhaps more cynically, to give money to Hallmark. Growing up, this was never one of my favorite holidays. For one, I was a nerd, and usually single. For two, I suffer from a tinge of seasonal affective disorder. Once the glow of Christmas, New Year’s, and a holiday break wears off, we are left to suffer through the remainder of the cold season with relatively few festivities. Growing up in northern Colorado my rule of thumb was always “things get better after Valentine’s Day.”

If you are somebody who is impacted by the short daylight hours and low sun angles, chances are you have already noticed things getting better. Here in Fort Collins, the sun rose at 7:21 AM and set at 4:37 PM on the winter solstice in late December. Today the sun rose at 6:54 AM and will set at 5:34 local time. That is over an hour and a half of improvement! Having said that, if you are somebody who is impacted more by cold temperatures than short days, yesterday morning’s low of -5 ˚F probably did you no favors. Of course, not every mid-February day is so cold, but even the average daily minimum temperature on Valentine’s Day is only 20 ˚F, just three degrees warmer than the average low in late December. Similarly, the mean daily temperature (daily max + daily min)/2 on Valentine’s Day is 33 ˚F, only 3 ˚F warmer than late December.

We know that the sun is our primary source of energy here on Earth, and we know that winter is cold because the northern hemisphere, in which we live, is tilted away from the sun. Conversely, summer is warmer because the northern hemisphere is tilted towards the sun, leading to longer days and more direct sunlight. The days are already getting much longer. Why are we not heating up more quickly?

As it turns out, at a large scale, the atmosphere takes about one month to adjust to an increase or decrease in solar forcing. This creates a cycle wherein changes in average temperatures lag changes in daylight by about a month. This plays out almost like a dance between light and heat where light leads and heat follows. To illustrate this point, I grabbed the Fort Collins 1991-2020 daily temperature normals data from SCACIS, and sunrise/sunset times for 2025 from timeanddate.com. A 15-day smoothing filter was applied to the temperature data for the sake of improved visualization (this means each day’s temperature normal is an average of the current day, and the seven calendar days before and after). The plot of our daylight hours throughout the year is nearly a perfect sine wave peaking at the summer solstice in June and hitting a minimum at the winter solstice in December (it is not a perfect sine wave because the earth’s orbit is not perfectly symmetrical). The plot of average temperatures similarly looks like a sine wave, but is phase shifted by about one month.

Light and heat’s annual dance is not perfectly choreographed here in Fort Collins, nor in most any other location. If you’re looking closely at these graphics you probably also noticed some asymmetries and additional wiggles in our average temperature curve. I want to talk about two of the main ones, which I will define with the following terms: the summer:winter asymmetry and the spring shimmy. The summer:winter asymmetry refers to the fact that average temperatures are at their lowest right around the winter solstice, but at their highest a full month after the summer solstice (July 20-24). Were this a dance, you could imagine light spinning heat out in the summer and corralling heat back in for the winter.

Our summertime average temperatures peaking in late July fits perfectly with the explanation above of temperatures trailing solar forcing. Temperatures reaching a minimum just about in lockstep the winter solstice does not fit with our above explanation.  According to climatologist Brian Brettschneider, who wrote a tremendous blog post on seasons back in 2017, there is actually a dearth of scientific literature over why seasonal fluctuations vary from place-to-place the way they do. My hypothesis is that average precipitation is a bit higher on the northern Front Range in November and December than January and February, so there may be a slightly higher probability of cloudy conditions during this time, keeping averages lower in December than January.

The spring shimmy refers to the wiggle in average temperature’s increase in April. In our dance analogy, heat is accelerating pace to catch light, but does a toe drag. This behavior is much easier to explain. Fort Collins sees its highest average precipitation in late April through early June. We definitely see cloudier conditions around this time, and more of the sun’s energy goes into evaporation and transpiration during this time because of the wetter surface conditions. Both of these factors slow our warming pattern in spring.

The spring shimmy shows up even more prominently if we find a way to display both daylight and temperatures using one line on the same graph. In the image below I computed what we’ll call a “heat fraction” for each day of the year. This is computed as follows: [Current day average temperature – Lowest day average temperature]/[Highest day average temperature – lowest day average temperature]. The highest average daily temperature is 74F (in July) and the lowest is 30 F (in December). The formula above gives a unitless quantity with a max value of 1 (in July) and a minimum value of 0 (in December). As an example, the average temperature on October 1st is 56 F, so the heat fraction would be [56-30]/[74-30] =  26/44 = 0.59. I did the same for “light fraction” which uses the same formula above, but for daylight hours. Below I plotted the difference between the two: heat fraction – light fraction. It reaches a maximum value of +0.21 on September 8th and a minimum value of -0.3 on April 30th, right during our wettest time of year.

The temperature dataset actually includes some additional even smaller wiggles. My supposition is that these wiggles are mostly due to the fact that we are only using 30 years of data: 1991-2020. Our climate normals are just an average of wildly varying day-to-day weather conditions. Even though we used 30 years of data and applied a smoothing filter to the temperature dataset, there are still likely to be some small peaks and dips due to highly anomalous individual weather events. Take for instance December 2022 (see graph below): temperatures were mostly warmer than normal until right before Christmas when we quickly plummeted to a low of -17 ˚F. It takes a lot of years of data to fully smooth out events like this.

Other locations: Not all locations in the northern hemisphere experience their average peak summer heat or frigid winter weather at the same time. Using data from the National Centers for Environmental Information we can see that much of the country does experience the coldest weather in January rather than December. The image below from Brian Brettschneider’s blog shows that the start and end of the average coldest 90-day stretch of the year varies significantly across North America. The Arctic Circle does not see any sunlight all winter, so it is not surprising that the average coldest 90-day period is later: lasting from late December all the way until late March. Most of the country sees the coldest weather of the year between late November and late February, but the northeastern United States sees a bit longer lag with the coolest 90 days lasting from early December to early March. Conversely, most of North America experiences its warmest weather between early June and early September. Coastal areas tend to see their warmest weather a little later in the season because ocean waters heat up and cool down more slowly in response to solar forcing than land and air.

After all this information, I want to bring the focus back to my opening statement about seasonal affective disorder that “Things get better after Valentine’s Day.” We see in the data that our days are already getting longer, and at an accelerating pace. Furthermore, while average temperatures have not warmed much yet, they are certainly about to. The average temperature on Valentine’s Day is 33 ˚F, but one month later it’s 41 ˚F. Three months from now it’s 57 ˚F. Even so, winter is not over yet. This is neither medical nor even climatological advice, but my advice for staying happy during cold weather is to embrace it. February and early March is a perfect time of year for all sorts of winter fun like downhill and cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, and ice skating. You don’t even have to do anything fancy. When I go outside to walk in cold weather I rarely regret it unless conditions are also windy. In contrast, if I use cold weather as an excuse to hibernate, eat unhealthy food, and overconsume insipid short-form content on my phone, I regret that every time.

Mrs. Gulch’s landscape February 14, 2025

Mrs. Gulch’s landscape February 14, 2025.

#Snowpack news February 17, 2025: Storm good news for #snowpack, but several more like it are needed — The #Durango Herald

Westwide SNOTEL basin-filled map February 16, 2025 via the NRCS.

Click the link to read the article on The Durango Herald website (Shane Benjamin, Reuben M. Schafir, and Jessica Bowman). Here’s an excerpt:

February 14, 2025

The storm is good news for the region’s water supply, which has languished in recent weeks. The SNOTEL site at Cascade Creek, just north of Purgatory Resort, reported 18 inches of snow accumulation since Thursday afternoon, which translated to 1.2 inches of snow-water equivalent. The side near the top of Coal Bank Pass reported 20 inches of snow accumulation and 1.8 inches snow-water equivalent. Lemon Reservoir had received 16 inches of snow with 1½ inches of snow-water equivalent as of 6 p.m. Friday….

Peter Goble, an assistant state climatologist at the Colorado Climate Center, said the snowpack is lower than it has been since 2018 – and one storm won’t turn that around.

“Every storm like this is a storm we’ll take, at this point,” he said, but he noted that the region needs several more storms to catch up to normal snowpack levels.

Soil moisture in the region is not as dry as recent years, he said. And that’s good news because arid soils suck up snowmelt, reducing runoff.

Colorado snowpack basin-filled map February 16, 2025 via the NRCS

Messing with Maps: Pipeline edition — Jonathan P. Thompson (LandDesk.org)

Click the link to read the article on the Land Desk website (Jonathan P. Thompson):

February 11, 2025

🗺️ Messing with Maps 🧭

Detail of a 1931 New Mexico oil and gas map showing part of the San Juan Basin, where commercial drilling began in earnest in the early 1920s. Note that there were already pipelines running from Bloomfield to Albuquerque, from the Ute Dome to Durango and from the Rattlesnake Dome to Gallup.

On the afternoon of December 5, 2024 at least seven homes were evacuated in rural La Plata County, Colorado, after a major pipeline ruptured and spilled some 23,000 gallons of gasoline 1Two months later, lingering fumes and contamination kept at least one of the evacuated households from returning home, according to the Durango Herald.

The spill tainted nine domestic wells with benzene concentrations of up to 300 parts per billion; the carcinogen’s maximum allowable level is 5 parts per billion. And the nearby Rainbow Springs trout farm suffered an 80,000 fingerling die-off in the days following the spill, according to the Herald, though a conclusive link between the two has yet to be made.

Graphic credit: The Land Desk

That a bunch of hydrocarbons broke free from their confines in that part of the country didn’t shock me: La Plata County is in the San Juan Basin, where oodles of natural gas has been pumped from the ground over the last century or so, and leaks, breaches, and spills have been frequent — sometimes with deleterious results. But I was a bit taken aback to read that the material that spilled was gasoline that came from a major, interstate pipeline.

In fact, several Facebook commenters expressed their doubts, saying it must have been drip condensates or liquid natural gas, instead, coming from one of the lines associated with the gas fields or the processing plant nearby. But the Herald reporter got his info directly from the pipeline operator (and they should know). And I double-checked the Pipeline and Hazardous Materials Safety Administration incident report, which said Enerprise Products’ Four Corners Lateral Loop pipeline, which was installed in 1980, had spilled 544 barrels (or 22,848 gallons) of non-ethanol gasoline.

Curiously, both Energy Information Administration and PHMSA records show that only natural gas-carrying lines pass through the county. But apparently the line now carries auto fuel from Texas to New Mexico, Colorado, and Wyoming, where it helps keep pump prices affordable, or so the pipeline operator told the Herald.

It’s one of seven natural gas, carbon dioxide, or hazardous liquids pipelines — totaling 225 miles — that cross La Plata County. The Western states contain about 93,024 miles of these long-distance methane and petroleum carrying lines (this does not include local gathering systems that web their way through the oil and gas fields or natural gas distribution lines that run through towns and cities).

The top 15 counties in the Western U.S. in terms of gas transmission and hazardous liquid pipeline mileage. Source: PHMSA.

That’s one of those things about pipelines. You might be subtly aware they exist, thanks to the strips of land that have been cleared of vegetation and the signs warning you not to dig there. But the fact that there are large quantities of flammable, sometimes explosive, climate-altering substances rushing beneath your feet on their way to distant destinations is not something that is often at the top of one’s mind. At least not until they leak, rupture, or explode.

Graphic credit: The Land Desk

And they do, more often than most of us would hope. Usually the cause is corrosion, a failed weld, or some other type of equipment or material failure, though excavation-caused ruptures are also up there. Cars and trucks run into pipelines and break them, floods or seismic activity can tear them apart, and sometimes lightning strikes them.

Natural gas is composed mostly of methane, a potent greenhouse gas with about 86 times the atmospheric warming potential than carbon dioxide. So every release is contributing to climate change. A major breach or a slow leak that goes undetected can emit massive amounts of methane; in April, a construction worker breached a pipeline that released 118,000 MCF (thousand cubic feet) of natural gas before it was shut off 2. Plus, when the stuff builds up it can explode, which makes gas line leaks especially dangerous. Crude oil and gasoline spills, meanwhile, can harm wildlife, waterways, and people, and even carbon dioxide pipeline ruptures can be fatal.

So it’s good to have strong regulations around pipelines, as well as a well-staffed agency to enforce those regulations. It’s also nice to know where the major pipelines are around you. And for now, at least, you can find out by consulting the PHMSA’s National Pipeline Mapping System. Just enter your state and county and you get a map of the big hazardous liquid and natural gas transmission lines. You can also do an accident query and see where there have been accidents near you. One drawback is that the system limits how far you can zoom in on the map, apparently because they’re worried about saboteurs using it to locate targets. Here’s what the zoomed in map looks like. This is about the same view as the opening image from 1931.

Graphic credit: The Land Desk

Here are some zoomed out maps to give you a sense of where the pipelines are concentrated, with the highest densities in the Permian Basin and Louisiana.

Graphic credit: The Land Desk
Graphic credit: The Land Desk
Graphic credit: The Land Desk
Graphic credit: The Land Desk

DATA DUMP:

  • 122 Number of U.S. interstate natural gas transmission system incidents, accidents, and spills in 2024, resulting in 7 injuries.
  • 1.82 million MCF Volume of natural gas released during those incidents.
  • Corrosion The leading cause of natural gas transmission pipeline incidents.
  • 13, 28 Number of fatalities and injuries, respectively, resulting from natural gas distribution system incidents nationwide in 2024.
  • 309,560 MCF Volume of natural gas released during distribution system incidents.
  • $549,000 Total damages, as of early February, resulting from the Enterprise pipeline spill in La Plata County in December.
  • 192 Number of incidents reported on Enterprise Products Operating pipelines between 2017 and 2025.
  • 294 Number of incidents in interstate hazardous liquid pipelines nationwide in 2024.
  • 80 Number of hazardous liquids incidents in 2024 that occurred in pipelines that were installed prior to 1985. Ten of the damaged lines were installed prior to 1940.
  • 16,708 Barrels of crude oil spilled in 2024 pipeline incidents.
  • 3,333 Barrels of refined petroleum products spilled or lost in 2024 pipeline incidents.
  • $70 million Total damages resulting from hazardous liquid (crude oil, gasoline, and other products) pipeline incidents in 2024.

Parting Poem

Now for something completely different, I’d like to leave you with this lovely poem by Richard Shelton. It’s from his Selected Poems, 1969-1981, which is easily my most read book, as I come back to it time after time. No one captures the essence of the desert like Shelton.

1 Which is about enough gasoline to fuel the ol’ Silver Bullet (the Land Desk’s official mascot) for another 800,000 miles or so.

2 The average U.S. residence uses about 65 MCF of natural gas per year.