The cleanup continues, nearly a week later. In this state, Friday night's lights destroyed 61 structures. The photo of the week might have been that cotton gin that was blown up, and all the cotton ruined by the storms. That doesn't include all the buildings that were damaged, and all the people left without power.
And all the deaths.
From Arkansas through Missouri through Kentucky and points east, the tornadoes that tore through the mid-South last week will be remembered for a long time. And--while we know the difference between weather and climate--the warm, soggy, windy weather in Arkansas as the year comes to a close has many of us wondering about long-term change. This stuff is usually reserved for April. And it comes in December. A white Christmas has given way to tornado sirens at night.
In all the coverage of the string of tornadoes (or was it one long one?) recently, The Washington Post published a most interesting piece about why the United States always seems to be targeted this way by Mother Nature.
The story, by reporter Jim Duncan, notes that other countries have tornadoes, too, but the United States is at the top of the list. Why, he asked experts, is that?
First you have to allow that the United States is a continental country, spanning sea to sea. And out to sea. (Hawaii, the Keys.) So there's more of an opportunity for bad weather. France doesn't have six time zones.
The Post's nut graph: "Tornadoes tend to form where cold, dry air clashes with warm, humid air. These contrasts are maximized over the mid-latitudes, where the majority of Earth's tornadoes occur. A good-size portion of the Lower 48 sits smack-dab in the center of that not-so-sweet ordinate zone.
"Add in the proximity to the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, mid-level dry air sloping down from the Rockies, plus unfettered access to cold air from northern environs (particularly notable due to the flat topography of the Great Plains), and you bring together a nearly perfect set of otherwise harmless ingredients that can suddenly become a volatile mix of atmospheric terror."
From El Paso to Fargo, what makes the United States such a fertile ground for farming--the breadbasket of the world--also makes for fertile storms.
NOAA hints at another reason, but because the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration is a government entity, it's diplomatic about it. On its FAQ page, it says tornadoes certainly hit other countries hard, but . . . "Tornado records even in those nations are not compiled the same way as those in the U. S., which makes comparison tricky."
In less transparent nations, even the weather is controlled by the government. Or at least weather statistics. And since we're not a government operation, we feel safe in saying that there are many governments who'd rather not allow the world to know about it when an F5 knocks out power to a whole region.
"Indeed, in most of the world, there is no systematic documentation of tornadoes, other than those that happen to cause great damage and death, or that are caught by chance on someone's camera," according to NOAA. "To judge where else tornadoes are most common, we have to use a mix of actual tornado reports with heavy statistical analysis of weather records that indicate conditions favorable for them. Such a blend of recorded and inferential study indicates that the U.S. remains tops in tornado production . . . ."
Tornado production. That's one way to put it.
Believe it or not, the NOAA sight is an interesting read, but most things about tornadoes are. (You can visit the site at spc.noaa.gov.)
The weather experts note that if you live in a town that is protected by a hill, a river or another natural obstacle ... you've been had. Such "protections" are old legends that don't hold up to science. NOAA's people note that these legends come about every so often, but only because a town has been spared a tornado, not that it makes scientific sense. The deadliest tornado in this country's history (in March 1925, 695 people killed) crossed the Mississippi River. And:
"Tornadoes have crossed high elevations in the Appalachians, Rockies and Sierra Nevada also. The Salt Lake City tornado of 11 August 1999 crossed a canyon--descending one side and rising up the other about halfway along its path. In 1987, a violent tornado (rated F4 by Fujita) crossed the Continental Divide in Yellowstone National Park."
So living on the east side of a Ozark hill isn't going to protect you.
What will: Early warnings. Sirens. Moving to centers of buildings.
Usually this editorial would be saved for April, maybe early May. But these days we're running it in December. Strange days indeed. Most peculiar.