Dry June ends on wet note

It’s not often that March is rainier than June.


The official numbers aren’t in …

But as of Tuesday, with just two days to go, the head nod goes to March.


Yes March was rainy – tipping the water bucket with over 6 inches of rain and pushing the dry season above the 20 inch mark (the long-term winter total (Nov-Apr) is 13 inches) – but the bigger story has been a dry June.

(Of course to the west – looking out my window as I type – are the outer reaches of ominously dark clouds of Alex spinning clockwise around the gulf.)


June after all is south Florida’s rainiest month:

It averages just over 8 inches per year …


Not that July, August and September can’t make up for lost ground (or water as is the case here) …

Or even October for that matter:

The tropics are predicted to be busy through the summer and into the fall.


But my guess is this season's first Hurricane Alex did the trick and put June over the top (and from all the way across the pond no less, nearing Mexico's coast it's feeder bands pretty much filled up the entire gulf) ...

I'll find out for sure later today.


Click here to see a rain chart for your area.

"mortar-making" water wheel

100° F cool?

More proof that thermometers lie:


I was back in Maryland last week and offered to lend a friend of mine – a mason – a hand to do some “heavy lifting” (as I described it). Suffice it to say he didn’t let me do any “skilled” labor (i.e., laying brick), but knowing me to be pretty handy with the shovel he did allow me to “re-engineer” a window well (i.e., dig it out and put in a new one) and “re-contour” an area adjacent to the new pavers he was putting in according to survey specified design criteria (i.e., he told me to “fill in the low spots”).


Did I mention it was 100° F?

- It didn’t feel like it.


I barely broke a sweat up to noon (granted, by that point I was mostly just talking) and admittedly we were working in a well-shaded neighborhood, but even during my core shoveling hours I was pleasantly surprised by what I can only describe as a “refreshing” breeze and, by day’s end, being no worse for the wear …

Nor was I dehydrated or sore the next day.


Compare that to Florida where daytime highs rarely rise above 95° F.

Does that make Florida summer’s cool?


Hardly:

Florida’s combination of higher humidity, a much more intense southern sun, less shade, and a 100 percent guarantee that – day-in and day-out – temperature readings will rise in the 90s for 4-5 straight months (at least in my mind) makes Florida summer’s an “open oven” sauna in comparison.


“Of course you aren’t working outside every day either,” he commented, alluding to my air conditioned office.

But I didn’t hear him …

I was too busy shoveling.

giant waterlily

Aquatic short cut?

Not stepping stones ...


But rather:


At Naples Botanical Garden.


Well worth the visit ...

Just be sure to stay on the concrete paths!

tippy top of dam

Tipping point?

Did flood waters crest this dam?

- Hardly.


The summer recession is well underway.

Harford County Maryland’s Deer Creek crested at 400 cubic feet per second (cfs) as early as March, but has been steadily dropping down ever since. It’s currently at 70 cfs.

Blame that on a dry June.


Typically the creek reaches its low-water ebb by summer’s end (in August or September) at around 50 cfs.

When it does and even so:

Expect water to continue to overtop this concrete wedge and slide down.


That almost makes it more a waterfall than a dam.

7 miles down

35,000 feet

How high are the clouds?


As seen from the ground, the answer is usually left at "up in the sky" ... which in vague terms narrows it down to somewhere "taller than the trees" and "under the moon."

Up at 35,000 feet in a jet plane, it's all looking "down."


Even the giant most towering formation, the stratosphere-scraping cumulonimbus thunderhead, off in the distance (see photo), looked at best to be about "eye level" from where I was sitting somewhere in the whereabouts of say 7 miles high above coastal North Carolina, looking west.

I imagined that storm dropping prodigious amounts of rain off somewhere in the Appalachians (or even beyond) with equal doses lightening and strong winds -- blackening out the sky for the people on the ground taking cover in that distant town below (wherever it may be) above where it grew.

But there in my perch it appeared nothing but peaceful blue and cottony white.


That night I checked the radar to find out "how much" and "where" that rain fell:

To my surprise, I couldn't find it
(or at least nothing jumped off the map).


Clouds can be deceiving at any angle,
(and/or the radar wasn't right.)

patriotic sea breeze

Land and sea breeze

Land breeze fed cumulonimbus cloud over the coast
- Looking south from Tamiami Trail
- Morning (9 am)


Sea breeze fed cumulonimbus cloud over the Everglades
- Looking east from Oasis VC
- Afternoon (4 pm)

turtle nesting season

Clear and waveless

The gulf usually has waves (however small) …

But on this day just barely.



Even more startling:

Its water was clear from top to bottom a good 10 feet down …

And I mean “very clear.”


It was a welcome reprieve:

Forecasts of an active hurricane season to come (waves rising high) and dire predictions of gushing oil going untapped into August (making it murky) have weighed heavy on our minds in recent weeks …

But there I lay, buoyant on my back – 100 feet off shore – floating on a pristine patch of waveless gulf water in a dreamlike state.


Did I mention the beach was empty too?

All the snow birds have gone north.


Florida isn’t perfect, but who said paradise was?

prairie next to slough

Perennial mystery

Gum Slough is perennially one of our wettest spots.


Why is that so?

(1) I’ve run across a regional precipitation map which shows it lying in a band of slightly higher rainfall that reaches from Miami into the southern reaches of the Big Cypress Swamp. That could explain it.

(2) Or maybe its location at the southern end of the watershed is what gives it more water (from upstream sources).

(3) Also in play is the textbook case of the unconfined island aquifer: water tables tend to fluctuate the most in the center of the island where the water mound is perched highest. Closer to the coast (where Gum Slough lies) the amplitude of change diminishes.

(4) There’s also the fact that locally Gum Slough is just a deep marsh, if also relatively narrow. On either side of it are marl prairies that go dry every year.


The one thing I can say for certain is that it’s been our rainiest gage since the start of May – at 13 inches and counting.

But that only puts it at a normal June level, not high.


What’s the likely reason for that?

Surrounding rains haven’t been as abundant.

Rain at any one station will only get you so far.

safety message

Lyin' chart?

Florida’s summer isn’t hot as much as it’s "long" …

But don’t take me wrong:

It’s hot too (and humid).


Why is it then that April and May always seem so unbearably hot,

Then along comes June and everything cools off?


Among the reasons:

• Increased cloud cover,
• Cooling rains, and
• Refreshingly chilled down drafts.

I don’t care what the weather chart says:

For me, May is Florida’s hottest month.

old and obsolete

New and improved

Is there such a thing as the “perfect graph?”

Over the years I’ve certainly tried.

Above is my latest attempt:

It shows a “monthly rainfall” (top) and “swamp stage” (bottom) summary for Big Cypress Nat’l Preserve. The bottom graph is color coded with respect to the swamp’s major habitat types, as shown below.


You may have also noticed a few changes to the journal.

They include:

• A “splashy” new design
• Enlarged photographs
• Static tabs (up top) – Now you can click to your favorite graphs by major topic heading (Big Cypress Swamp, etc.) instead of scrolling through the chronological list.
• The Swamporeatron (also up top) – This is an interactive data-viewing portal which offers a quick way to glimpse back decades into the past to see how current water conditions compare to historic trends.

The journal is part “narrative voice” and part “Rosetta Stone.” It’s a place that combines photographs, hydrologic charts, diagrams, and video with the aim of making their sum greater than its parts. It is equally “hot off the press“and a continual “work in progress.” (Case in point is that recently, for unknown reasons, the video isn’t appearing on many government computers, despite working fine for the past 2 years.)


Will I ever find the perfect graph?

Regardless, it's fun trying!

prairie milkweed

Flower in a haystack?

Just a bunch of boring cypress (and all green)?

Upon closer inspection I found these:


Unfortunately I didn't know their name.

(Botany has never been my strong suit.)

dry season refugia

Mailbag: Water footprint?

Here’s a question from Beatrice in Duluth,Minnesota:

I’ve been hearing a lot about living closer to the land and conserving water. What’s the best way for me to calculate my “water footprint?”


That’s an excellent question, Beatrice – and perfect timing too!

Not too long ago I ventured off deep into the swamp with the very same question in mind when – low and behold – my boot got stuck in the muck of a dry season low-water hole, better known in these parts as “dry season refugia.”

Not to worry: There weren’t any gators in sight and just as quickly I was able to pull my boot free.


That’s when I noticed the deep print my foot left behind in the muck ever so slowly begin to fill with water.

By my calculations – 12 inches long by 5 inches wide by 5 inches deep – my footprint eventually filled up about 300 square inches of water, or in more common volumetric terms: About 5 quarts.


Incidentally, that equates to exactly how much water I drink per day in the hot Florida sun.

- Just not out of my swampy boot print!


Send your water questions to The South Florida Watershed Journal: “If it’s wet, flows downhill, or falls from the sky – we’re generally interested!”

wall of cypress

"Cypress sea" of change

Summer

Winter

Video of both

water-in-gutter season

You are here

Ever wonder how we got from there to here?

For that you'll need a timeline.


Ever wonder how we'll get from here to there?

On that one a road map might come in handy.


My only advice is not to worry about getting lost.