Thursday, September 10, 2009

What Paul Gilding Told Me to Tell My Children


The garden is still producing images of beauty.

Observe, these trees have been yellowing for the past few months and now are almost uniformly bare.

I planted these sunflowers late in the season, at Sophie's behest, and finally they are huge, and blooming!

As mentioned in earlier posts, fruit trees are producing flowers, in totally opposite season. They are desperate to reproduce, no wonder, this is their condition.


NO idea where this luminous flower came from!

The magnolia is also blooming out of season, and the leaves reveal irrefutable evidence of chloroscopy. (Can't make chlorophyl, thanks to pollutants in the air from burning fossil fuels)

This pretty groundcover shows the same symptoms.

As does this leaf from a Japanese Fringe Tree.

People are piling dead branches on the roadside, they are falling at the least provocation.

Another perfect depiction of damage, in a climbing hydrangea.

Once, I came across a school assignment middle daughter had written, a story that asked for a description of a remembered experience. She wrote the sweetest recollection about how she and her big sister would take their little black pony, Licorice, out riding bareback together in the summer heat, into the creek along our land and into a deep hole of water, where the pony would swim around with them on his back.

I was so moved when I read her story, so proud and happy I had adorable little girls who could share such a wondrous experience in life.

When I moved here, to Oldwick, almost 30 years ago, I was enraptured with its charms. We moved to a home dating from the Revolutionary War, a short walk to an idyllic village preserved almost perfectly, surrounded by rolling hills of fields, farms, and woodlands, sheltered by large estates owned by family trusts the likes of Forbes', Whitman's, Brady's, and Johnson's.

Now, I am torn between the agonizing knowledge that this paradise I took for granted has become an obsolete dream.

That time is fast coming to an end and my thoughts are filled with the knowledge of that imminent disaster, and how I can hold on to rationality myself, and how I can provide my children with any hope, any stability, any comfort in the face of what is surely going to transform their world.

I love you, Alice, Sophie and Maxine. If only I could wave a magic wand and give you everything I expected you would inherit, up to only very recently, I would.

But the fact-based science says, that is not to be. You are not going to have the future I wish for you.

I know what I think you should do, to prepare. But that's only my opinion, and of course, it doesn't sit well with your plans.

Six Degrees

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/science/article1480669.ece

A long but essential read.

Sandbag.org.uk

Message from Paul Gilding

The Parallel Universes of Climate Change. Where do you live?

By Paul Gilding | September 10th, 2009 | Category: Cockatoo Chronicles | 6 comments

Some days my head hurts, as I shift between what feels like two parallel universes in the climate change debate. First I have these conversations with world-class scientists who calmly lay out the scientific view of the various risks posed by climate change and their relative scale and likelihoods. They tell me the science says it is almost certain the impacts will be serious and destabilising for our society and our economy. The science also describes a lower level of risk – which they find hard to quantify but generally say between 10% and 50% – that the impacts of climate change will be catastrophic, perhaps even civilisation threatening. This could include widespread famine, war and economic collapse. Not certain, but a reasonable possibility.

It is very clear when you listen to these scientists and read their peer-reviewed reports that, on any calm and rational analysis, we should be preparing for a carbon reduction war. Yes, a war – with all that implies about focus, effort and sacrifice. The threat posed is, after all, a “clear and present danger” and the response should be strong, global and immediate. This should be a ‘whatever it takes’ moment.

Then I shift into the parallel universe.

I spend time in corporate boardrooms and listen to the analysis of business executives who explain how we mustn’t damage the economy by “over-reacting”. They explain their concern about protecting jobs and economic growth, how we must not jeopardise “our” (insert India, China, South Africa, USA, Australia etc) national competitiveness by acting “early” because, after all, without a global solution what difference will our actions make anyway? When I engage with policy makers, even those supportive of climate action, I get only a marginally stronger response.

Of course, each of these arguments has its narrow appeal. There’s always a bit of truth and rationality, and that’s why people use them. But the collective consequence of these arguments is the real story here – the story that historians will tell. We have had the risk thoroughly analysed and explained to us and we are choosing, with endlessly shifting reasons for prevarication and delay, not to act commensurate to the level of risk.

I wonder what it was like in the lead up to WWII, the last time we had a serious and clear global threat. When Hitler invaded Poland, did Winston Churchill order an economic modelling exercise to understand the implications of spending over a quarter of GDP on the war effort? When Pearl Harbour was bombed, did US industry argue we shouldn’t over-react, that America shouldn’t respond until there was a global agreement to act so as to avoid a disproportionate share of the cost?

No, fortunately for us, that wasn’t their response. In fact, just four days after Pearl Harbour was bombed, the auto industry was ordered to cease all civilian production in order to focus on the war effort. Such actions soon spread across the economy. I imagine US political leaders thoughts were something like this: “Well damn the objectors, this is a threat to our freedom and to our way of life. In fact, this is such a profound threat we will throw everything we have at it and make it work, even though we don’t know whether we will succeed nor the costs of trying.”

They would have said: “We will have to do this because if we don’t, our children will curse our lack of courage and our selfishness. If we act we may fail. But if we don’t act, we won’t be able to live with ourselves for not trying.”

In our present day to day lives, when the weather is a bit warmer than normal but often rather pleasant, and our economy is showing signs of improving, it is hard for most of us to think like this. The business leaders I talk to about this topic are not bad people. Nor are the policy makers grappling with the complexities of transforming an economy and the uncertainty of the outcomes. They are normal people with children and friends – they go to church, they volunteer in their communities and they care about the world. (OK, there are a few exceptions, but not many!)

But they still fall for the easy way out, the path of denial and avoidance. Not because they’re bad people, but because they’re not thinking clearly and courageously.

My message on this topic is clear and direct. We are at a crucial moment in human history. 2009 is to climate change what 1939 was to WWII. Poland has been invaded – the Arctic is melting, the bushfires are burning, the droughts are strengthening and the floods are sweeping away communities. There is only one question you have to ask yourself: “what will I tell my children?”

So now, imagine yourself in 2030. The world is teetering on the edge of geopolitical and economic chaos (this is not a certainty, but it is certainly a reasonable risk). You are talking to your children (add 20 years to their current age) and explaining what it was like in 2009 – what the scientific consensus was and how you personally responded, then and there, when the reality became clear. What did you do in 2009 and why?

In 2030, the parallel universes will have closed and there will only be one left. It will be called reality and you and your children will be living in it. Imagine the conversation. Do it now, then decide what to do.

“They go on in strange paradox, decided only to be undecided, resolved to be irresolute, adamant for drift, solid for fluidity, all-powerful to be impotent…Owing to past neglect, in the face of the plainest warnings, we have entered upon a period of danger. The era of procrastination, of half measures, of soothing and baffling expedience of delays, is coming to its close. In its place we are entering a period of consequences …We cannot avoid this period, we are in it now…”


Winston Churchill, November 12, 1936

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Spanking

Ha ha in case anybody was wondering why certain people in the government don't want to do anything about climate change:



And I know, I know, weather is not climate, but still...horrible disasters are happening all over the world thanks to climate change, and so few make the connection. It is a fascinating question why some few can see clearly through the monstrous destruction of unfettered growth, in all its economic and environmental impacts, and most others cling to the fairy tale notion that there is nothing so wrong that technology and innovation can't save us.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090909/ap_on_re_eu/eu_turkey_floods

The surging water flipped trucks, cars and buses over like matchsticks, crushing them into piles of debris.

Must See!


and what to make of this???
http://www.vancouversun.com/news/%20double/1970211/story.html

An article in the January 2009 issue of New Scientist magazine notes studies in the U.S. showing that lightning can also be caused by car exhaust fumes.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Labor Day


Sophie came up from Philly with friends to go for a sail with Alice and Dennis.

I made a picnic - grilled lamb marinated in garlic, rosemary and red wine; baby lettuces topped with roasted beets with goat cheese and pistachio nuts; a tart with heirloom tomatoes, piave cheese, anchovies and oil-cured calamata olives; a salad of fresh lima beans, shucked sweet corn, and colorful peppers with dill in a meyer lemon vinaigrette; and green lentils with garbanzos, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and tarragon, in a pomegranate balsamic dressing.

Thanks Alice for taking us out on your boat!





And a special thank you to our skipper for another lovely afternoon!

Going shopping at the grocery store is an activity that fills me with dread and anxiety. I put off going and when I can't avoid it I have to quell the urge to buy everything in sight. Even though the shelves of the opulent Wegman's are full, the produce section bursting with almost pornographically lush fruits and vegetables, with all manner of fresh herbs and 20 kinds of potatos, and aisle after aisle with ingredients for any cuisine imported from all over the world, in my mind I see the day when the complacent shoppers become frantic and ransack the stores and topple delivery trucks because food in America is scarce.

Food and water are already scarce in many parts of the world. When climate change effects overwhelm our agriculture, no one will be able to protect themselves from the fearsome consequences.

This is not fall color! It is too early. Leaves change from green, to gold, scarlet, and russet in autumn - without the blackened holes - in response to lower temperatures, and we're not even close to that. These leaves show unmistakable signs of being poisoned by toxic gasses in the atmosphere, and they are everywhere to be found. But most people, if they notice at all, will no doubt think it is fall folliage.

Our habit of burning fossil fuels and biofuels is destroying vegetation, and we will either stop it because we are smart or it will stop because we are dead.

Ozone and PAN's are dangerous pollutants that cause asthma, emphysema, and cancer.

If the leaves are showing such distress, what do you suppose is going on in our bodies?


Here is an interesting response. Quite a few species the past month have had growth spurts, but the new leaves are already exhibiting the lack of chlorophyll, while the older leaves are ravaged with scorching, and are an ominous dark hue.


http://www.treehugger.com/files/2009/09/mexicos-water-shortage-turning-into-food-crisis.php?dcitc=th_rss

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Oh, never mind about the trees. We are so doomed!

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2009/sep/02/coral-catastrophic-future

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2009/sep/06/global-warming-natural-disasters-conference

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

How does your garden grow? Not very well, is the answer. I have let it go this year, it has been taken over by weeds.

I don't mind this one, because the hummingbirds love it. Unfortunately I haven't been able to catch one on camera, they are too quick. Even more unfortunately, the leaves of this weed show cloration - a characteristic loss of chlorophyll thanks to vehicular emissions that are poisoning it along with every other form of vegetation.

The shriveled leaves of a winter-blooming peach are indicative of the distress it suffers.


The leaves of butterfly bush are exhibiting the same symptoms.

I have several varieties of hydrangea in varying degrees of degradation:




When I was young, there was a very ancient lady who lived in isolation, in a dilapidated Victorian house, across the street from my home. In the back of her land was an even more decrepit shed, which was no doubt structurally unsound, and was swathed with a rampant Concord grape. In the fall, I loved to sneak up the vine and sit on the mossy shake roof, where I would pick the deep purple grapes, squeeze out the tart center, to suck on the sweet nectar that lined the inner part of the skin until it was gone, and then I would spit it out onto the ground below. The thought of that intense scent conjures up so many visceral sensory memories of sparkling autumn skies, the velvet look of the fruit, the ecstatic joy of being alone, hidden, my whereabouts unknown to anyone else, to think about what ever I wanted, surrounded by nature's bounty.

So it was with great anticipation several years ago when I planted a Concord grape to climb my porch, and watched with peaceful happiness as it grew...until this year.

I was back in the city of Brotherly Love sooner than expected, and a brief walk on a lovely bright afternoon on the venerable UPenn campus yielded tree after tree that is miserably compromised.



















This next to last picture, believe it or not, is an American Elm. How it survived Dutch Elm Disease when so many tens of thousands did not, I do not know. But it isn't going to survive ozone and peroxyacetyl nitrates, look how thin the crown is. What a loss. I made Sophie stand in front of it so you can click on it to see how impressively enormous it is.

Oh well, I guess the squirrels like this one will have to survive finding garbage to eat instead of nuts from trees.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Squealing (Catastrophic Bifurcations)

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/09/090902133625.htm

It all comes down to what scientists call "squealing," or "variance amplification near critical points," when a system moves back and forth between two states.

"A system may shift permanently to an altered state if an underlying slow change in conditions persists, moving it to a new situation," says Carpenter.


The way in which plants stop growing during a drought is an example. At a certain point, fields become deserts, and no amount of rain will bring vegetation back to life. Before this transition, plant life peters out, disappearing in patches until nothing but dry-as-bones land is left.

Okay the trees are squealing as loud as they can!

Here's another typical letter, but the links are fascinating and pertinent.

Dear Dr. Appleton, Dr. Harris, and Ms. Swanson,

I was sent this link to your report
http://pubs.ext.vt.edu/430/430-022/430-022.html

which I read with intense interest. I could not find email addresses for all the authors, so if you get a chance to forward my message to Joel Koci, Kathy Sevebeck, and Dawn Alleman, I would appreciate that.

I live in New Jersey and for the past year have become more and more alarmed at the condition of vegetation here, as well and up and down the Eastern Seaboard where I have had occasion to visit.

The deterioration first of deciduous and then coniferous trees last fall has been followed by damage to shrubs and even annuals. This summer, completely dead trees of all ages and species have become commonplace. I am not a scientist but from reading up on the topic I have become convinced that the composition of the atmosphere is poisoning plants, and with a spectacularly alarming rapidity.

In your report where you describe the symptoms from the toxicity of ozone I have found precisely the description of what is readily observable in wild forests, planted landscapes, nurseries and even ponds.

I would like to tell you that I find a significant difference between your report and what is occurring, at least here in New Jersey.

The first regards your categories of trees most at risk and those with higher tolerence. I can assure you that here, every single species of tree is being visibly impacted with what looks to be irreversible decline. There are none whatsoever that are tolerant of whatever it is they are being exposed to. Some that are on the tolerant list, such as maples and ginko, are actually the most scorched and thin.

In your report you mention that peroxyacetyl nitrate (PAN) is more toxic to plants than ozone but less plentiful, and therefore less significant.

However I would be very grateful if you would consider this evidence - ozone has been around for decades and even worse in years past. It should have decreased this past year or so due to a slowdown in driving due to the economy and a cool wet summer. Yet, the damage to vegetation is exponentially worse, starting at the end of last summer and continuing this summer to the point where it is literally impossible to find a tree, shrub, vine or any plant whatsoever that doesn't display the symptoms you describe in your paper, in abundance.

I believe the explanation for this that best fits the facts is that the recently mandated addition of ethanol to gasoline, which creates acedaldehyde, the precursor to peroxyacetyl nitrate, could well amount to the primary agent.

I would like to direct you to this story, http://desdemonadespair.blogspot.com/2009/09/fall-colors-fade-in-us-west-as-aspen.html and note a couple of interesting things.

One is, that the bark beetle which is generally blamed for the death of aspens, is here depicted as not the only agent; drought and climate change are mentioned as causes for SAD, sudden aspen death. This echoes the sudden death I see here on the East Coast.

Two is, that you said in your report that ozone afflicted trees are more vulnerable to insect damage.

I wonder if perhaps pollution floating eastward from California freeways is piling up in the Rockies and is actually the underlying cause of bark beetle infestation (in addition of course to warmer winters) and SAD.

I started a blog on the topic of trees impacted by climate change if you care to visit, where I post links to published scientific research, and photos, muddled up with some personal more lighthearted events. witsendnj.blogspot.com

I hope you will consider the possibility that ethanol is wreaking havoc on trees, which are the foundation of life on earth, and other fauna. It is a horrific prospect but actually, if true, rather encouraging, because all we have to do is stop adding it to gasoline to halt such extreme botanical carnage. If it is ozone, it will take a much greater effort to shift quickly to completely clean energy in order to avoid ecosystem collapse and mass extinction.

There are other possible causitive agents - differences in the types of coal being burned, perhaps, or more prevalent UV radiation from the thinning of the stratospheric ozone layer - but I really hope someone with more expertise than I posses will take on this riddle and solve it.

Thank you so much for reading.

Sincerely,

Gail Zawacki
Oldwick, NJ
908-797-3948

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