Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Conjoined Conspiracies: Saving Water; Blaming Carbon


It is hard not to notice a conspiracy when it has been staring you in the face for ten years.  I've been fighting two nonscience eco-fads for at least that long, and yet have only lately admitted that they are joined at the hip, one dependent on the other.  Saving water and trace gas warming, AKA global warming, AKA climate change, were both popularized in the '80s and both are pushed by the same people.  The former has provided supposed proof for the latter.
The goal of both eco-fads is a carbon tax. Saving water has dried out and heated up our world; this foreseeable result has been blamed on trace gases like carbon dioxide (CO2) and methane, measured in parts per million and billion, tiny fractions of the air, heating up and drying out our world.  Fights over water saving have been quietly suppressed; the fight over trace greenhouse gases and the push for a carbon tax has been noisy and very divisive.  The magician has been telling us to look at one hand, while the other was doing the trick.
We have already changed the climate twice, the first time by watering farms and cities with sprinklers between the '50s and the '80s.  The effect become noticeable in the '70s and '80s, but we didn't notice it then; we considered the resulting moisture, rain and coolness to be the norm.  Since the '80s, we have changed it back to dryer and hotter with water-saving water rates, rationing by price, in most of our cities, large and small.
Not that everyone promoting these fads was in on the conspiracy.  It makes great use of people who buy plausible-sounding theories that fall apart when one really thinks about them, and rate consultants and scientists who chase government and grant funding.  I bought into both fads in the '80s but was not alarmed; I didn't want to water and mow a lawn and welcomed global warming as stopping the next ice age.  Conservation is supposedly a good thing, and so we thought that conserving water was the thing to do, once it was brought up in a drought year.
Water-saving alarmists talked to city councils, cities talk to and copy each other; and states tend to follow their cities.  All over the industrialized world, cities started rationing water by price.  California cities led the way, raising water unit charges and lowering base rates to allow customers cheap access to water but making people pay through the nose to use it.  As those rates have been raised and keep rising, cities and their surrounding countryside have been drying out and burning in summer and even in winter in California, as weeds grow, seed out and dry out where green grass formerly dominated city landscapes.
I stopped believing in trace gas warming when I realized that the million in parts per million was being ignored and converted parts per million into percentages.  A large rise in a very small fraction is still a very small fraction.  The absolute amount of carbon dioxide may have increased 60% since the beginning of the industrial revolution.  But as a percentage of the atmosphere, it has increased only 0.012%, twelve thousandths of a percent, in that 250 years, which does not seem to be enough to appreciably warm the planet.  Nor have its proponents ever accounted for the fact that warming increases rotting, and carbon dioxide and methane are products of rot.  Are increased gases warming the air, or has warming increased these gases?
I've also noted the way that trace gas warming proponents dismiss, belittle, and vilify those who disagree with their theory.  They are not scientists; they are political activists, and even Science News writers, who would normally quote a scientist critic of a theory by name, do not in the case of trace gas warming, but they do push “climate change” wherever they can fit it into an article.  The more ignorant its proponents are of real science, the more they appeal to authority instead of answering objections.
And then there is Bill McKibben, one of its more famous proponents, being interviewed ten years ago on public radio, telling me, in answer to my pointing out the small fraction of CO2 and how little it has increased as a portion of the atmosphere, "Carbon dioxide is the difference between Venus in Mars!"  The host did not question that, and I was already cut off from answering.  But my daughter pointed out that the real difference is size and distance from the sun.  Both planets have a very similar proportion of CO2 in their atmospheres, 97% and 96%, very different from Earth at 0.04%.
It wasn't until after 2008 that I realized what a disaster water saving is, as properties in Grants Pass and other cities started going dry and creeks dried up in midsummer that used to run all year.  My water bill, already high, doubled when Grants Pass instituted tiered rates on single family homes in 2006, just before the recession started.  A couple of years later, city staff asked the Council to raise the base rate because water-saving tiered rates had worked too well and the city was having trouble paying the overhead.  Base and unit rates have continued to rise as use has decreased.
Rationing water by price has been disastrous for the poor, as most people prefer to live one or two to a house if they can afford it, while poorer people live many to a house to share expenses.  They not only cannot afford to garden their yards and grow food; they are socked in water and sewer bills for having more people in their house, while richer folks on small lots pay less per unit than poorer folks for their lesser use, thanks to low base and high unit prices.  Young families are hit especially hard, as children need more baths and laundry, dirty more dishes, and contribute no income.
Thousands of homes have burned in California in recent years as wildfires burn into cities that used to be safe.  Wildfire smoke has become the major pollutant in the west, with more fires smoking us every year and now burning through cities.  We have had wildfire disasters all over the Western world; Greece, Spain and Australia, where semi-desert "Mediterranean" climates have turned from garden spots to dry weedy messes, burning at a spark.
We have been told that only 2% of the water on Earth is fresh water, and that we must save it wherever we can, so it doesn't run out as our population grows.  They say that evaporation is waste and that sprinklers evaporate up to half of the water they throw, so we need to use drip and plant natives that need little water.  They said that lawns take more water and chemicals than other plants, which is not true, but lawns definitely need sprinklers. 

This is a war on sprinkler use, because sprinklers put a lot of water in the air, on plants and on the ground, and all of this evaporates and cools the area.  It has become a war on gardening and even farming, with people telling us how much water it takes to grow a single almond in California.  And yet the rich can use all they are willing to pay for, making inequality far more visible.

Image result for water cycle diagram
Fair Use, no copyright infringement intended.                    

But evaporation is not waste; it is the beginning of the water cycle.  It cools, humidifies and makes clouds and rain.  That 2% of Earth's water that runs off the land is constantly renewed by evaporation of salt water and fresh, condensing into clouds that shade us and precipitating fresh water as it rains.  The more we throw water in the air and all over plants and the ground, the more rain it can make.  Acting as though water is abundant makes it so, at least West of the Rockies.
Water is like money.  When people become afraid to use money, recessions and depressions happen and deepen.  When they become afraid to water, either because of price or supply, irrigation drought sets in, increasing the fear for the supply and making the drought worse.
Indeed, it is hard to waste water where we have water and sewer treatment plants and a good river.  Water that goes down the sewer is cleaned to drinking water standards and put back in the river.  Water that sinks into the ground renews the water table.  Water that is evaporated, transpired and breathed out makes clouds and rain.
It is even harder to waste irrigation water on the west side of the Rockies and other western mountain ranges on other continents.  The western edge of any continent tends to be dry because the eastern side of oceans are cold and create little evaporation, as water does not evaporate below 40 degrees F.  But we are blessed with clean, cold rivers that run into the prevailing western wind, which blows our evaporated irrigation water upstream and uphill, making rain to fill creeks and rivers, just like the drawings of the water cycle.  Water can make this circuit many times over a summer. Some of that water blows over the Rockies to the Great Plains and the Southwest, sharing water with other states.  Sprinkler-aided farming in the Great Plains moistens and cools summers in Chicago with clouds and rain.
Water is the most powerful force in our weather.  Water is the most abundant greenhouse gas, at 1%-4% of the air, and holds heat through the night and in winter by its sheer thermal mass and cloud blanketing.  You can feel the difference that water makes when it varies up to 400%.  A rainy or snowing winter day is warmer than a clear one, as heat escapes into space when it's clear, and heat is released as water vapor becomes liquid water, and more heat is released as water becomes ice.  It cools summer days by evaporation, cloud shading, fog, rain, and dew.  Water is the great moderator of our climate, and yet is involved in our biggest disasters, blizzards and hurricanes.
When "global warming" started, we were told that excess CO2 and methane would warm winters, higher latitudes and nights more than summers, the tropics, and days.  After 2000, "global warming" became "climate change," which had the twin vices of being both less specific and more frightening.  We were told that extreme weather was increasing, which it was.
Temperature extremes, heavy storms, flash floods and fires are symptoms of drought, of desert conditions prevailing as we returned our highly gardened cities in the dry West of every continent to semi-desert conditions, which are far more dangerous than real deserts, as semi-deserts grow a lot more weeds to dry out and burn.  Even hurricanes are strengthened, as less and warmer water flows from cities down the Mississippi into the Gulf of Mexico, warming it and revving up the storms that enter it, like Hurricane Michael.
Beavers made Western climes moister and rainier by building dams on creeks that make ponds that grow trees around them, slowing down creeks and allowing water to soak into the ground and grow the trees they eat.  They make ditches to transport wood from those trees to their ponds, which spreads the water further and grows more trees.  Trees transpire and make rain, which spreads the water further still.  When the trappers killed them for their fur, early in Western exploration, many of these places quickly became desert, and the ranchers and settlers that came after the trappers did not know what had been lost as tumbleweeds took over the West.
We, like beavers, make our own habitats and changed climates in our favor by building dams and using water for irrigation, and like the beaver, we didn't realize what we were doing when we were doing it.  But we can bring beavers back to the West, and we can talk to our city councils and bring back the kind of water rates that made gardening our cities possible, those that follow the normal business practice of charging less per unit the more units we buy.
Most of the cost of providing clean water is overhead, fixed costs: plant; people; maintenance, and debt service.  Very little of it is unit cost, which varies with the number of units cleaned and delivered: electricity for pumping; chemicals, and filters or filter cleaning.  This is what we were told by city staff when they asked the Council to raise the base rate to stabilize the plant finances after a few years of tiered rates cutting usage, which was supposed to pay the overhead.
When I first lived in Grants Pass for 2 years in the '80s, we paid $25 per month for water and sewer, combined.  The city was clean, green, and beautiful.  We had wet thunderstorms nearly every weekend over the summer of '85.  In '86, we had low snowpack in the mountains and drought was declared.  We were told not to water our lawns or wash cars.  We grew vegetables and fruit and suffered brown lawns equally.  We had 103 days of no rain that summer, and 98 the next, as the low snow drought continued and then passed.  And still, the ‘80s was a wet decade overall, because nearly everyone in dry climates was watering in summer when they could.
Remembering that decade, in 2013 I did a study of rainfall and temperatures in the Grants Pass zip code in summers that covered 1983-2012.  In the first decade, we had larger rain events in July and August than in June or September.  The following decade, that reversed as the base rate was lowered and unit prices introduced in the late ‘90s; the third decade, when tiered rates were introduced in 2006, reversed it further.  July and August rainfall dropped by 0.9 inches per decade as water unit rates rose and use dropped.  Both trends have continued, as prices rose and use dropped.
Monthly high temperatures rose with each decade along with water prices.  The base rate did not stay low but had to be raised repeatedly to continue to cover the overhead as we used less water.  Unit prices rose as well with the Consumer Price Index, as we all paid more individually to use less water collectively, from 82 cents top rate to $1.40, before the recent rate raises to start paying for a new water treatment plant. They are now $1.49 and set to rise 5% per year for 5 years.
We must demand that they put all the overhead back in the base rate and only unit cost in the unit price, both increased, not by the CPI, but by increased expenses.  This system creates the most stable plant finances and lowest rates and allows us to use the water we are paying for access to, for watering our cities and keeping them and the surrounding countryside safe from wildfire.
If talking to them fails, we can sue them.  Both Oregon and California law requires that any public entity, when setting rates for a service, must charge no more than the cost of providing that service to each customer, individually.  The customer is the household, not its residents. Paying for fixed costs with a fixed price and only marginal unit costs with a single unit rate pays exactly what it costs to provide each customer with all the water they want to use, at a rate that allows all of us to use as much as we want.

Email the Grants Pass City Council and Mayor: mayorcouncil@grantspassoregon.gov


Tuesday, October 23, 2018

Science News: Watering fields in California boosts rainfall in Southwest



"What we do with water management really has an impact on climate — locally, regionally and globally.”

Irrigation has downstream effects on climate and runoff to Colorado River
BY ERIN WAYMAN 10:06PM, JANUARY 22, 2013
Magazine issue: Vol. 183 #4, February 23, 2013, p. 16

Farmers in California help make it rain in the American Southwest, a new computer simulation suggests. Water that evaporates from irrigated fields in California’s Central Valley travels to the Four Corners region, where it boosts summer rain and increases runoff to the Colorado River, researchers report online January 12 in Geophysical Research Letters.

This climate link may be crucial to the 40 million people who depend on the Colorado River for drinking water. That number could nearly double in the next 50 years at the same time that droughts are projected to become more common in the Southwest. Since the Central Valley’s supply of irrigation water faces an uncertain future, it’s important to examine how shortfalls in California might affect climate change in the region, says study coauthor Jay Famiglietti, a hydrologist at the University of California, Irvine.

“We have to understand these connections better to deal with changes in water availability,” he says.

The Central Valley is one of the world’s most productive agricultural regions. More than 50,000 square kilometers of the valley are irrigated, equaling one-sixth of all irrigated land in the United States.

A study in 2011 showed that watering the area’s crops cools local temperatures and increases humidity. But the work didn’t find any larger climate ties outside the region, because it relied on a regional climate simulation, which has trouble estimating conditions along the boundaries of a study area, Famiglietti says.

To overcome this problem, Famiglietti and Min-Hui Lo, now at the National Taiwan University in Taipei, simulated global climate over a 90-year period. They added in 350 millimeters of water — coming from groundwater and surface reservoirs — to the Central Valley between May and October each year. The researchers say that’s a realistic amount of irrigation based on published agriculture and climate data.

The simulations revealed that evaporation doubles in the Central Valley when there’s irrigation. That water vapor circulates to the Southwest during the summer monsoon season, which naturally brings rain to the area. “The monsoon is like a big campfire burning away over the Southwest,” Famiglietti says. “The irrigation acts as fuel on the fire.” In addition to bringing more water to the atmosphere, the water vapor brings more energy. And it changes the regional circulation, drawing in even more water vapor from the Gulf of Mexico.

Together, these changes intensify the monsoon season, resulting in a 15 percent increase in rainfall in Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona and a 28 percent increase in runoff to the Colorado River compared with simulations lacking irrigation. Some of the water returns to California via the All-American Canal, which brings water from the Colorado River to Southern California, the simulation suggests.

“It’s a nice first step,” says hydrologist Michael Puma of Columbia University. “And it’s a link that we need to investigate quite a bit more.” Many other variables, such as sea surface temperatures, also influence climate in the Southwest. To better estimate the strength of irrigation’s effect in the real world, more complex simulations that take these other factors into account are needed, Puma says.

The study also highlights the importance of investigating irrigation’s role in climate in other parts of the world, as well as other ways in which people’s use of water might have unintended consequences, Famiglietti says.“What we do with water management really has an impact on climate — locally, regionally and globally.”


Citations:


M-H. Lo and J.S. Famiglietti. Irrigation in California’s Central Valley Strengthens the Southwestern U.S. Water Cycle. Geophysical Research Letters. Published online January 12, 2013. doi:10.1002/grl.50108. [Go to]

S. Sorooshian et al. How significant is the impact of irrigation on the local hydroclimate in California’s Central Valley? Comparison of model results with ground and remote-sensing data. Journal of Geophysical Research-Atmospheres. Vol. 116, March 16, 2011, D06102. doi: 10.1029/2010JD014775. [Go to]

Further Reading:

S. Perkins. Crop irrigation could be cooling Midwest. Science News. Vol. 177, February 13, 2010, p. 15 [Go to]

S. Perkins. Going down: climate change, water use threaten Lake Mead. Science News. Vol. 173, February 23, 2008, p. 115. [Go to]

S. Perkins. Hey, it’s cooler near the sprinklers. Science News. Vol. 171, March 17, 2007, p. 174. [Go to]

This article is reprinted as fair use in education, as one cannot directly access whole Science News articles unless one subscribes to Science News.

Science News: Crop irrigation could be cooling Midwest

“A variety of climate simulations don’t show such long-term changes in precipitation, probably because those simulations don’t take irrigation into account, Robock and his colleagues say. July, Robock noted, is when irrigation on the Great Plains is most profligate, with more than one-third of groundwater withdrawal occurring during that month.”

Drop in hot days blamed on moisture from Great Plains
BY SID PERKINS 2:02PM, JANUARY 22, 2010
Magazine issue: Vol. 177 #4, February 13, 2010, p. 15

ATLANTA — If summers seem cooler and wetter in parts of the Midwest in recent years, you can thank — or blame — farmers, two new studies contend.

While average global temperatures rose about 0.74 degrees Celsius during the past century, the U.S. Midwest has experienced a noticeable slump in summer temperatures in recent decades, reported David Changnon, a climatologist at Northern Illinois University in DeKalb, on January 19 at the annual meeting of the American Meteorological Society.

On average, daily high temperatures in Chicago rise above 90° Fahrenheit (32.2° Celsius) on 24 days each summer. But from 2000 through 2009, only two years tallied more than 24 days hotter than 90°— the lowest decadal total in 80 years, Changnon noted.

Rather than being just a statistical anomaly, the recent cool temperatures seem to be part of a steady long-term decline in summertime highs in Chicago, Changnon and his colleagues found. The last 10 years have seen a total of only 172 days above 90°; the 1930s saw more than twice as many. And Chicago wasn’t alone. The team noted a comparable decline in unusually hot days at 13 other sites in a swath stretching from western Iowa through Illinois to eastern Indiana.

From 1970 through 2009, average high temperatures at the sites in Iowa and Illinois during July and August were between 0.5 and 1.0 degrees F (0.28 and 0.56 degrees C) cooler than they were for the years 1930 through 1969, the researchers found. The amount of precipitation received in the region has changed substantially as well: Average rainfall for July and August from the 1970s through 2009 was about 0.33 inches (0.8 centimeters) higher each month than it was from the 1930s through the 1960s.

Changnon suggested that fewer hot days and more precipitation are linked, because humid air warms more slowly than dry air does. One likely source of the extra moisture is the region’s agriculture. Plants pump vast amounts of water from surface soil into the atmosphere as they grow, and thirsty row crops such as corn and soybeans are much more prevalent in the region these days — about 97 percent of farmland is planted in those crops now, versus about 57 percent in the 1930s, Changnon notes. Also, the plants are spaced more closely now (about 30 inches apart, versus the 40-inch spacing typical in the 1930s), a trend that has boosted the numbers of water-pumping plants per acre by about 60 percent.

Even if much of the extra summer rainfall in the Midwest derives from water in local soils, the original source of that moisture might be an irrigation spigot somewhere on the Great Plains. A rapid rise in irrigation in that region apparently has boosted precipitation downwind in the Midwest, Alan Robock, an atmospheric scientist at Rutgers University in New Brunswick, N.J., reported January 21 at the meeting. Rather than running off into rivers and streams or soaking back into the ground, Robock added, most of that liberated groundwater was used by plants, evaporated into the air and was carried downwind, where it condensed in clouds and then fell to the ground as rain.

In 1930, in a swath of plains that stretches from South Dakota down to Oklahoma and the Texas panhandle, farmers irrigated only about 7,500 square kilometers, an area about half the size of Connecticut. But by 1980, he notes, irrigated farmland in this same area covered about 60,000 square kilometers. During the 20th century, irrigation pulled more than 333 cubic kilometers of groundwater from aquifers beneath the Great Plains.

When Robock and his colleagues analyzed precipitation at more than 300 weather stations from central Wisconsin and Michigan down to northeastern Arkansas and northwestern Tennessee — a region that includes much of the same area studied by Changnon and his team — they too found that rainfall had increased. At sites in that swath, precipitation during a typical July late in the 20th century was between 25 and 50 percent higher that it was early in the century.

A variety of climate simulations don’t show such long-term changes in precipitation, probably because those simulations don’t take irrigation into account, Robock and his colleagues say. July, Robock noted, is when irrigation on the Great Plains is most profligate, with more than one-third of groundwater withdrawal occurring during that month.

Future analyses will compare the results of simulations that include irrigation with those that don’t, Robock said. Results of those studies might allow the team to more confidently pin the blame for the region’s increased July rainfall on Great Plains irrigation, he noted.


(Reader’s note: “Blame?”  Rain and milder summer weather than 90 degrees is a good thing!)

Citations:

Changnon, D., V. Gensini, and J. Prell. 2010. A common Midwestern question: Where have all our 90° F days gone? American Meteorological Society meeting. Jan. 17–21. Atlanta. Abstract available: [Go to]

DeAngelis, A. . . . A. Robock, et al. A. 2010. Great Plains irrigation produces enhanced summer precipitation in the Midwest. American Meteorological Society meeting. Jan. 17–21. Atlanta. Abstract available: [Go to]

Further Reading:

Perkins, S. 2007. Hey, it’s cooler near the sprinklers. Science News 171(March 17):174. Available to subscribers: [Go to]

This article is reprinted for fair use in education, as one cannot directly access whole Science News articles unless one subscribes to ScienceNews.