Thursday, March 7, 2013

Meteorologists do models


Have you ever heard these phrases when first telling someone that you’re a meteorologist?

"You have the only job in the world where you get paid to be wrong!"
"I consider myself to be an amateur meteorologist!"
 and my personal favorite...
"Oh neat, space fascinates me too!"

While meteorologists likely find these statements humorous, it turns out that behind all of these remarks is a common truth; a poor forecast has impacted everyone at least once. Growing up, I had the same viewpoint about meteorologists and weather forecasting.  This was largely due to the promise of school closures due to snow that never materialized.  Unfortunately, it usually takes only one wrong forecast for people to question their faith in weather forecasting.

So why is it so hard to give an accurate forecast?  The answer is really quite complex, so I’ll try to tackle one part of the broader scope of weather forecasting that I’m familiar with: numerical weather forecast modeling.

What is a numerical weather forecast model?

Meteorology is essentially the study of the physics of the atmosphere.  Using basic scientific concepts such as Newton's Law of Motion and the Laws of Thermodynamics, the physics behind how the atmosphere works can be represented through a series of equations.  If you sprinkle in some fluid dynamics and mathematical methods such as time stepping, you can derive a set of equations that can tell you how the current state of the atmosphere will change into the future.

Examples of equations used to represent atmospheric
physics (after many approximations)



So what is the problem you ask?  Good question!  Let's break down several factors of numerical weather forecast modeling that can lead to an inaccurate forecast.

I. Input data and assimilation
    Your weather forecast is only as good as the data you put into it and how you actually get this information into the model.  As with many things in life, the phrase "you are what you eat" is as true as ever in weather modeling.  One of the statements I made above is that our equations "can tell you how the current state of the atmosphere will change in the future."  The key word here is "current state”.  In order for our weather model equations to tell us anything useful about the future, we need to first have a good understanding of what the weather is doing right now.  To accomplish this, we need to gather as many atmospheric observations as possible.  In the U.S., we have one of the largest networks of observations available on the planet that can be used as input data to the forecast model.  This network includes (but is not limited to) measurements at the surface, from satellites, weather balloons , radar, aircraft, and even GPS measurements (used for moisture).  Many of these measurements are available globally as well.
     Using mathematical computer programs, this information is melded together into what is called an analysis.  Assuming the measurements all provide quality information (not always a safe assumption!), then what you have is an accurate representation of the current state of the atmosphere.  If you live in a densely populated area, you are probably surrounded by a decent amount of measurements.  If you don’t, chances are the current state of the weather near you is represented by only a few measurements.  This is especially problematic if you live anywhere near rough terrain.  You may live several hundred feet up the side of a mountain, and the “measurement” that represents you may be sitting down the slope on the flat surface.  In essence, modern weather modeling agencies do their best to generate as accurate an analysis as possible, but even these do not perfectly represent the state of the atmosphere.
     The method used to generate an analysis is called data assimilation.  I won’t go into detail on this topic, but should mention the techniques applied to data assimilation are often as (if not more) sophisticated that those employed in the weather model itself.


II. Resolution
     Once you have your equations and your data, not only do you need an analysis, but you need to determine your model grid.  The easiest way to think about a weather model grid is to imagine a box surrounding your state, centered on you.  You need to calculate each equation at as many points inside your box as you choose.  Do you calculate those equations every few feet, every few kilometers, or more?  The more points we choose the higher the model resolution.  This is similar to buying a television. The more pixels (points) the TV (model) has, the higher its resolution.  If you want to see every detail of every show, you want the highest resolution possible!  If you are only interested in a general viewing experience, then perhaps a lower resolution TV works for you. Take a look at the picture below.  As we increase the resolution, more and more features become visible.  In order to start seeing river valleys, we had to add a significant number of grid points.

Weather model terrain with increasing resolution (left to right).


     So why not just have more grid points?  Going back to our TV example, it is typically true that the better the resolution the higher the cost.  This is also true in the weather modeling world.  For a weather forecast covering the same region, the higher the resolution the higher the computational cost (more calculations = more computer power).

     A decision is therefore needed when running a weather forecast model.  Do we want the highest resolution possible, the most area covered, or do we want the forecast to finish as fast as possible?  Each decision affects the accuracy of the forecast.  If you are running a model that covers the entire planet, there are so many grid points that even if you are using a supercomputer, you still need to determine how high of a resolution you can actually run while still getting a forecast that is useful.  After all, what good is a 24-hour forecast, if it takes the computer 25 hours to give it to you?
     Just to give some perspective on the impact of resolution, let’s go over an example of a small grid with high resolution. Let’s place a grid that spans 200 kilometers in each of the cardinal directions (N, S, E, and W) from where you are standing. Since we want a high resolution forecast, we will choose to calculation our equations every 1 kilometer. If you have seven equations to calculate, that means you are calculating 7 times 400 times 400 equations (1.12 million).  If only it were that easy... you forgot about the atmosphere above you!  If you wanted to calculate the same equations every 1 kilometer in the vertical (let say up to 25 kilometers) as well, now you are calculating 7 x 400 x 400 x 25 = 28 million equations.  If you wanted a 24-hour forecast, you would need to update the calculation as you move forward in time.  For a grid with points 1 kilometer apart, it is common practice to calculate your equations every 6 seconds.  This means 7 x 400 x 400 x 25 x 10 (per minute) x 60 (minutes per hour) x 24 (hours per forecast)…that equates to a mere 420 billion calculations!  Just for kicks, I ran this example on my quad-core Linux desktop computer.  Using all 4 processors, this weather forecast completed in 32 hours.  The only benefit to taking this long is that by the time the model run finished, I already had all the data I needed to determine if my forecast was any good! /headslap  

Visual representation of a horizontal grid.
Features that exist at the dots must be
parameterized.


III. Parameterizations
     In our example above, we learned that running a weather model with a grid spacing of 1km can be very computationally expensive.  We must therefore choose to calculate our equations over a coarser grid.  But as we move our gridpoints further apart, we begin to lose resolution and the atmospheric features that we can forecast decrease.  For example, a typical supercell thunderstorm is about 10 kilometers wide.  If our grid points are spaced 20 kilometers apart, this means the entire thunderstorm can exist inside our grid and never actually touch a single grid point.  So how exactly can we forecast such an event?  We have 2 choices here: we can either increase our resolution so we have more grid points, or we can use what is called a parameterization.  Since we already know the limitations of increasing the resolution, let’s talk about parameterizations.  If we consider the example of the thunderstorm again, a parameterization will tell each of the four grid points surrounding the storm how that storm is impacting them.  While we lose the majority of the details of the storm itself, we can still extract valuable information about how that storm may be impacting the forecast as a whole .

     Since we can't run our weather models at as high a resolution as we would like, parameterizations are necessary.  The trade-off is that we are losing detailed information.  With that said, I should also mention that many of the weather models available today were never designed to run at very high resolutions, and therefore one cannot expect that many grid points covering a storm will lead to an accurate forecast of its evolution.

IV. Representativeness
     If you happen to live directly on top of a co-located weather model grid point, then you can expect a pretty good forecast.  Chances are that the grid point closest to you is actually not perfectly representative of where you live.  This is true in weather models and also in weather observations.  A classic example is when you look up the current weather conditions for Denver, CO.  Many weather applications are going to show you the readings from Denver International Airport (DIA).  For anyone that has ever been to DIA, some 20km northeast of the downtown area, you can attest that the airport does not represent the weather in downtown Denver very well.
     The problem of representativeness is particularly prevalent in areas with varying terrain.  If you live in a valley, or near water, you are probably aware that a 1 kilometer walk in a particular direction can put you outside of the valley or even in the water! This means if your weather model doesn't represent your particular area very well, it may think you actually live under water!

V. Approximations
     This may be a little too deep for this conversation, but in the interest of being complete I will mention the concept of approximations.  When developing the equations we use to represent atmospheric physics, we often make approximations to simplify those equations.  This is widely accepted and generally not problematic, but it does lead to tiny errors in our math.  The problem with errors is that when you perform billions of calculations, tiny numbers start to add up.  As our forecast moves further and further out in time, the probability that our errors are impacting the forecast increases dramatically.  As you get to a week or more out into the future, the change in temperature on a given day can actually be as large as the errors inside of a weather model .

VI. Chaos
     The topic of chaos is definitely too deep for this conversation, but I do want to bring up the concept and point the interested reader to a book on the subject.  The theory of chaos basically states that small differences in initial conditions (see the 'you are what you eat' discussion above) yield widely diverging outcomes.  For dynamical systems such as atmospheric flow, these diverging outcomes make long-term prediction problematic (to say the least).  The book I mentioned above can be found here .


     I hope you now have a better appreciation for the complexities behind generating a weather forecast.  There has been much discussion recently surrounding the quality of weather forecast models.  While it is true that some forecast models outperform others, it must be said that all models suffer from the problems described in this post.  Numerical weather prediction models have seen drastic improvements over the past few decades and the future is bright for continued improvements to our science.

    The next time you hear an ‘amateur meteorologist’ who thinks ‘space is fascinating too’ complaining about a blown forecast, just remember that any one or perhaps all of the factors described above could have led to it.  That isn't to say your local meteorologist is perfect, but given what you now know about forecast models, they may deserve the benefit of the doubt, even if they are getting paid to be wrong .

Cheers.

SM




    
  

Friday, February 22, 2013

Side work: The laser-ceilometer

When deciding what I wanted to talk about in my first official weather blog post, I considered a variety of topics directly related to my key work projects.  Eventually I scrapped all of them.  I decided instead to talk about some side work that I have been involved in.

Today's topic: The laser-ceilometer and its observations of the boundary layer.

Back in graduate school I spent a great deal of time studying the boundary layer.  It wasn't because I wanted to become a boundary layer expert, but rather I was tasked with writing a piece of code that simulated it.  I remember distinctly learning from my Ph.D. adviser (Dr. Richard McNider) that there 'is no fuzzy thinking in coding' and thus I needed to really understand the physics that were represented in the equations I was about implement. In the process of learning everything I could on the topic, I inadvertently became fascinated with the boundary layer. I had always heard that this sort of thing could happen, but it wasn't until then I believed it. Boundary layer meteorology has since been my un-official area of expertise, but more importantly my official area of interest.  

The boundary layer is the lowest layer of the atmosphere and its name comes from the fact that it is the only atmospheric layer with a defined boundary (the ground).  It is arguably one of the most important parts of the atmosphere since we spend the majority of our lives in it. When we ask a question like "How hot or cold will it be today?" or experience high wind gusts, we are having a conversation about boundary layer phenomena. Everything under the red dashed line in this COMET Program image are processes that take place in the boundary layer.  For a more detailed explanation, I direct the reader to books such as "An introduction to Boundary Layer Meteorology" by Roland Stull, or perhaps just a quick peak at a Wiki (Wiki Link).  

So lets move into the specifics of today's post....

The boundary layer is full of some of the highest concentrations of the gases that make up our atmosphere, and more importantly for this discussion, atmospheric particles called aerosols. Aerosols can be everything from dust and sand to sea salt (from sea spray) and carbon particles. They can come from both natural and anthropogenic (people) sources. These tiny particles are suspended in the atmosphere and during the day are often displaced to the top of the boundary layer. The commonly seen 'brown cloud' around or downwind of major cities is visual depiction of this.  

It turns out that if you point a laser directly into the sky, these particles will scatter some of the laser's energy back to the ground.  We have available to us today a variety of commercial lasers for this exact purpose. These lasers employ the concept of Mie scattering, a process by which electromagnetic radiation is scattered backwards.  Mie scattering is definitely the more underrated scattering processes as most people only focus on Rayleigh scattering (blue sky anyone?).  Over the past 6 months, I have had the opportunity to work with one of these instruments and it has been some of the interesting work I have been involved in to date.

The instrument I am speaking of is the laser-ceilometer.

Ceilometers are laser generating instruments that are pointed into the sky, primarily to detect the height of a cloud base.  There is a ceilometer at every ASOS (Huh?) location in the U.S. and many additional located around the globe. Cloud base height detection is quite important for aviation as pilots need to know when they will no longer be able to see out of the window.  Clouds return a fairly large amount of the laser's signal and are easy to see in any ceilometer return. Aerosols on the other hand, look more like noise in the signal.  Over the last decade or so, researchers and scientists have been using the signal in the noise to observe the boundary layer.
Spoiler alert: A publication highlighting some of these uses is in the works!

In the meantime, I wanted to share some pretty neat examples highlighting the laser-ceilometers ability to observe the boundary layer.  Here is an example of a 24 hour time series showing a ceilometer's return signal (time vs. height):

Ceilometer backscatter density 

The colors on this plot represent backscatter density as seen by the ceilometer.  In essence, the more energy that is scattered back to the instrument, the higher the backscatter density, and thus the warmer the color.  Here, the majority of the signal is due to the presence of aerosols.  When viewed over time, this signal depicts many of the classic structures you would expect to find in the boundary layer.  For those that read the book I mentioned above or perhaps visited the Wiki, you will recognize some of the terms in the image above.  All three stages of the boundary layer's diurnal patterns are evident here including the mixed layer, the residual layer, and the nocturnal layer.  Pretty cool if I do say so myself.

Over the past couple of weeks, the Boulder, CO area has been getting a few snow events.  I probably shouldn't use the word 'event' since the amount of snow we have been seeing has been less than impressive.  Regardless, the laser-ceilometer isn't picky and snow has a knack for scattering the ceilometer signal.  Here is a great example of snowfall as seen by a ceilometer and verified by a camera photo:

Snowfall event as seen by ceilometer and camera near Louisville, CO

As the ceilometer beam intercepts the falling snow, a large amount of the signal is scattered back to the instrument.  Since the snowflakes are so much larger than aerosols, the backscatter intensity is also larger.  The signal shows up in red in the image on the left (I've drawn an arrow to the snow to help).  In case you didn't believe me, I've also included a camera photo from less than 200 m away from the ceilometer.   For the interested party, these ceilometer images are being taken from Vaisala's BLVIEW software and the camera image from Vaisala's Navigator software. The ceilometer being used here is the Vaisala CL31.

Following a snow 'event' a couple weeks ago, we got to see a pretty nice display of virga falling from the sky over lunch.  I immediately ran to the ceilometer display and found this gem:

Backscatter density from ceilometer

Virga is simply precipitation (snow in this case) falling from a cloud and evaporating or sublimating before reaching the surface.  When seen with the naked eye, it resembles wisps or streaks falling from a cloud.

This particular ceilometer is sitting on the roof of the Boulder, CO Vaisala office and streams its data directly to my office.  I am constantly on the lookout for interesting cases and can promise Ill share anything truly unique in the future.  I personally feel that the use of a ceilometer in observing the boundary layer is a really unique concept and I hope you found this at least mildly interesting.  If not, I apologize for putting you through reading this.

Cheers.

Scott M.