Extreme heat could reach the Northeast at the end of the week
Published Jul 13, 2020 12:57 AM EDT
A weak low pressure area moving east-northeastward from Pennsylvania to southern New England is causing showers and thunderstorms. The following map is a radar image from around 5:15 p.m. Sunday afternoon showing the array of showers over Pennsylvania. As you can see some of the thunderstorms look like they are causing heavy rain. However, the storms only occupied a fraction of the total area.
About a half hour later the sky to our west looked ominous. However, we only got a light shower out of this, not really enough to measure.
The weak low pressure area will cross over New England early tomorrow and then head out to sea tomorrow night. Some models showed the very little precipitation with wall across southwestern New England, but there could be a little more rain across portions of Maine and New Hampshire later tomorrow night and perhaps even early Tuesday. There will be a light northerly flow behind the low pressure area and that will stall any big warmup right away. Tuesday also looks moderately warm across most of the Northeast with a weak high-pressure area in charge:
However, as we go through the rest of the week the eastern high pressure it will move off the coast and the south westerly flow of hotter and more humid air will gradually spread eastward. In yesterday's report, I showed projections for each day's high temperature during the week ahead. Most models suggested that the really hot air will not take over until next weekend, but when it does arrive, many places will have temperatures in the 90s and it could very well approach 100 in the major cities in the I-95 corridor. This is a temperature forecast map for next Sunday in the dark red areas are the ones that''ll be the hottest places in the East. Amazingly, the very highest temperatures will be over the area from Texas to Death Valley where most places will have temperatures past 110.
You cannot see all the numbers, but if this idea's right, next Saturday and Sunday will be among the hottest days of the summer.
Since I am talking about heat, I thought it would be cool to present a few of the weather stories I've written in past summers. The first one is from 1988, when it was extremely hot in the middle of the country and much of the east. Extreme drought affected many farm belt areas. I tried to put myself in the place of a distressed farmer who desperately wanted it to rain so that his crops might be saved.
The Hot Summer of ‘88
Maybe this would be the day. Cauliflower cumulus got off to a fast start, boiling into the summer sky before noon. The pearly white minarets were like dazzling castles in the midday July sun. Gusty, hot breezes brushed the trees, their drought curled leaves appealing heavenward for something ... anything ... to drink. Swirls of gritty dust choked the air as hot currents tormented the sun-cracked earth. The first cutting of hay was good, but now withered stalks crackle with each hot gust, each strand turning to brittle straw.
But maybe this would be the day. Overhead, there was hope. The AM radio bristled with lightning static; every now and then muffled booms of thunder grumbled in the distance.
Maybe this would be the day. The sky darkened, the wind stilled. The rumbling thunder grew louder. A few giant drops splashed into the dust. Brash gusts hurled branches to and fro, ripping shreds of their drought weakened clothes away from their limbs... cloaks of leaves that would normally stay in fashion til autumn. Suddenly a pitchfork of lightning spears the humid air, thunder answers at once. Curtains of rain water nearby fields. But...oh no.. is the southwest sky brightening? Could this menacing orb of flash and blast fail to unload its watery cargo here? Indeed, in this cruel summer of furnace heat, yet one more disappointment is burned into the soil like a branding iron in Death Valley. The storm departs, its cooling moisture only serving to fan the dry winds and further damage anything trying to grow. The rumbles grow muffled, the sun comes out of hiding. With heart rending sadness we gaze over our thirsty fields, realizing this isn't the day, after all.
The second story is from back in the old days...days like last summer ... pre-virus days that seem now like the were way back in the distant past.
Thoughts of Summer
From the first sunbeam sparkling through the morning dew to the last glimmer of northwest blue at evening dusk, this will be a fine summer day. Lofty cumulus will probe for expressways to the stratosphere, but dry air will cut their climb before any menace is realized. There will be the captivating warmth of midsummer, the morning temperature faithfully representing July, the afternoon edging into blistering heat we get from air masses that are fugitives from the desert.
Every so often an unseen breeze will ruffle the leaves and blow warm puffs in our faces; mostly it is calm and still. Summer haze muffles the sharp skyline. What a rich storehouse of memories a summer brings: the fully leafed trees virtually untouched by artist autumn, cotton puff clouds floating on an unseen heavenly platform. An evening when the sky fades through navy and indigo and on to black. As the myriad stars twinkle an eternity away, the remote and yet somehow familiar sounds and stirrings of the summer night come to life. The lecturing Lukas drop their tunes with her, which is then picked up by a chorus of crickets. Hours later gossiping birds betray the secret of a new day.
A whole summer of memory wells up at once ... going to the pool, partying with friends, listening for thunder after a wicked crack of lightning ... cooling the toes next the sea on an evening when only the white tips of the breakers give away the location of the dark night ocean.
On the beaches, love will blossom in the sea breeze's misty caress. Songs from summer will drift through the air like the breeze, and the melodies will come back to us in future years as specks of gold from the past.
Dua Lipa's song "Levitating" from her most recent collection called Future Nostalgia fits the season as it talks about the budding romance of a couple who may have just met at the perfect time.
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Weather Blogs / Northeast US weather
Extreme heat could reach the Northeast at the end of the week
Published Jul 13, 2020 12:57 AM EDT
A weak low pressure area moving east-northeastward from Pennsylvania to southern New England is causing showers and thunderstorms. The following map is a radar image from around 5:15 p.m. Sunday afternoon showing the array of showers over Pennsylvania. As you can see some of the thunderstorms look like they are causing heavy rain. However, the storms only occupied a fraction of the total area.
About a half hour later the sky to our west looked ominous. However, we only got a light shower out of this, not really enough to measure.
The weak low pressure area will cross over New England early tomorrow and then head out to sea tomorrow night. Some models showed the very little precipitation with wall across southwestern New England, but there could be a little more rain across portions of Maine and New Hampshire later tomorrow night and perhaps even early Tuesday. There will be a light northerly flow behind the low pressure area and that will stall any big warmup right away. Tuesday also looks moderately warm across most of the Northeast with a weak high-pressure area in charge:
However, as we go through the rest of the week the eastern high pressure it will move off the coast and the south westerly flow of hotter and more humid air will gradually spread eastward. In yesterday's report, I showed projections for each day's high temperature during the week ahead. Most models suggested that the really hot air will not take over until next weekend, but when it does arrive, many places will have temperatures in the 90s and it could very well approach 100 in the major cities in the I-95 corridor. This is a temperature forecast map for next Sunday in the dark red areas are the ones that''ll be the hottest places in the East. Amazingly, the very highest temperatures will be over the area from Texas to Death Valley where most places will have temperatures past 110.
You cannot see all the numbers, but if this idea's right, next Saturday and Sunday will be among the hottest days of the summer.
Since I am talking about heat, I thought it would be cool to present a few of the weather stories I've written in past summers. The first one is from 1988, when it was extremely hot in the middle of the country and much of the east. Extreme drought affected many farm belt areas. I tried to put myself in the place of a distressed farmer who desperately wanted it to rain so that his crops might be saved.
The Hot Summer of ‘88
Maybe this would be the day. Cauliflower cumulus got off to a fast start, boiling into the summer sky before noon. The pearly white minarets were like dazzling castles in the midday July sun. Gusty, hot breezes brushed the trees, their drought curled leaves appealing heavenward for something ... anything ... to drink. Swirls of gritty dust choked the air as hot currents tormented the sun-cracked earth. The first cutting of hay was good, but now withered stalks crackle with each hot gust, each strand turning to brittle straw.
But maybe this would be the day. Overhead, there was hope. The AM radio bristled with lightning static; every now and then muffled booms of thunder grumbled in the distance.
Maybe this would be the day. The sky darkened, the wind stilled. The rumbling thunder grew louder. A few giant drops splashed into the dust. Brash gusts hurled branches to and fro, ripping shreds of their drought weakened clothes away from their limbs... cloaks of leaves that would normally stay in fashion til autumn. Suddenly a pitchfork of lightning spears the humid air, thunder answers at once. Curtains of rain water nearby fields. But...oh no.. is the southwest sky brightening? Could this menacing orb of flash and blast fail to unload its watery cargo here? Indeed, in this cruel summer of furnace heat, yet one more disappointment is burned into the soil like a branding iron in Death Valley. The storm departs, its cooling moisture only serving to fan the dry winds and further damage anything trying to grow. The rumbles grow muffled, the sun comes out of hiding. With heart rending sadness we gaze over our thirsty fields, realizing this isn't the day, after all.
The second story is from back in the old days...days like last summer ... pre-virus days that seem now like the were way back in the distant past.
Thoughts of Summer
From the first sunbeam sparkling through the morning dew to the last glimmer of northwest blue at evening dusk, this will be a fine summer day. Lofty cumulus will probe for expressways to the stratosphere, but dry air will cut their climb before any menace is realized. There will be the captivating warmth of midsummer, the morning temperature faithfully representing July, the afternoon edging into blistering heat we get from air masses that are fugitives from the desert.
Every so often an unseen breeze will ruffle the leaves and blow warm puffs in our faces; mostly it is calm and still. Summer haze muffles the sharp skyline. What a rich storehouse of memories a summer brings: the fully leafed trees virtually untouched by artist autumn, cotton puff clouds floating on an unseen heavenly platform. An evening when the sky fades through navy and indigo and on to black. As the myriad stars twinkle an eternity away, the remote and yet somehow familiar sounds and stirrings of the summer night come to life. The lecturing Lukas drop their tunes with her, which is then picked up by a chorus of crickets. Hours later gossiping birds betray the secret of a new day.
A whole summer of memory wells up at once ... going to the pool, partying with friends, listening for thunder after a wicked crack of lightning ... cooling the toes next the sea on an evening when only the white tips of the breakers give away the location of the dark night ocean.
On the beaches, love will blossom in the sea breeze's misty caress. Songs from summer will drift through the air like the breeze, and the melodies will come back to us in future years as specks of gold from the past.
Dua Lipa's song "Levitating" from her most recent collection called Future Nostalgia fits the season as it talks about the budding romance of a couple who may have just met at the perfect time.
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