By Adam Schaubroeck
During my first semester here at South Dakota Mines, I thoroughly enjoyed my atmospheric science introductory class. In this class my professor would often discuss current weather events and use a wide variety of information to back up what he was saying. One such source of information was atmospheric models. These atmospheric models caught my attention and have fascinated me ever since. This has led me to a bigger interest in our atmosphere from a computational perspective.
By Alex Makarchuk
Imagine you are having dinner with your family, and suddenly a warning from the National Weather Service (NWS) blares on your phone: “TORNADO WARNING ISSUED FOR YOUR AREA.” Your first response to the loud noise and a scary message may put you and your family in a panic or leave you in a state of confusion, as the words used in the warning make you unsure how to keep your family safe. Public communication is one of many jobs of a meteorologist, and one of the hardest.
NWS sends out just over 50,000 warnings a year across the country (Erdman 2022) to protect the public from damage that Mother Nature can cause. These warnings and messages only work if the reader can understand the message. If someone doesn’t understand what is happening right now, how are they supposed to take shelter and make informed decisions on what to do next? Sharing these warnings with millions of people across the country is a difficult job, which is why it is so important that we can build these messages so that everyone can understand the dangers and take proper action. It starts with understanding how people interpret these messages and why they interpret them that way.
By Emily Hubmer
Before coming to school at South Dakota Mines, I was interested in environmental science from a different lens than I am now. I used to love learning about and watching documentaries focused on sustainability, mostly related to agriculture and other practices in the production of goods. As a college student, my courses have focused on other topics related to environmental science. I’ve studied chemical and biological processes, community science and communication, water and wastewater treatment, among other fields. The courses I’ve taken and the fields I’ve studied have inspired my capstone project. Like most, I want to help as many people as I can and leave a positive impact on my surroundings. One way that I can help our planet, and what I will be doing my capstone project on, is composting.
Composting is the process of breaking down materials into compost, which is a nutritionally dense substance. Typically, in landfills, when food breaks down, it is in a low-oxygen environment. The resulting byproduct of that decomposition is methane. When composted properly, the waste is exposed to oxygen, resulting in the emission of carbon dioxide. I know, an environmental science student promoting the release of carbon dioxide? While carbon dioxide is a harmful greenhouse gas, methane is also a greenhouse gas, and it is much stronger than carbon dioxide and can have a greater impact with the same amount of gas produced (Howarth, 2014). The breakdown of material into compost can benefit communities. The product can be used to help crops grow better in gardens, among other uses. Essentially, composting food waste reduces the amount of trash going into landfills, prevents methane emissions, and makes a useful end product.
By Kendra Rounds
Snowstorms and blizzards can have immense impacts on human infrastructure, create hazardous travel conditions, and shut down cities due to snow and ice accumulation. Many people know this in general about snowstorms but have never considered if there’s any difference between snowstorms at different times of the year.
During midwinter – in, say, January – temperatures are colder overall with less sunlight during the daytime to diminish snow accumulation. Snowflakes that form around this time may be smaller and more powder-like. This can reduce visibility more quickly during snow events such as blizzards, which makes traveling conditions more hazardous. During early spring – in, say, April – temperatures are generally warmer with more sunlight throughout the day. While this typically means the effects of a snowstorm won’t last quite as long, the snow that falls is usually thicker and heavier, often called “wet snow.” This snow is much harder to clear from roadways and can cause power outages more easily due to the weight of the snow on powerlines. Many people probably wouldn’t consider that these storms can be so different if they don’t look at the underlying meteorological properties of these storms.
By Hannah Gehlsen
Over the course of my college career, I have come to realize, like many others, that there is a gap that exists between not only scientists and the public, but within varying scientific disciplines as well. As a result, many ecologically valuable elements are continually in need of research to support their existence. This issue is currently being faced in regard to the riparian vegetation/macrophytes of the Kootenai River, with some finding them problematic to stream flow and others simply seeing them as a nuisance while fishing. To clarify, riparian vegetation is known to grow along the edges of water bodies, whereas macrophytes are aquatic plants that are typically rooted underwater, and they can be fully or only partially submerged.
Historically speaking, the Kootenai River is considered to be low in nutrients such as phosphorous. This is primarily a result of the installation of the Libby Dam in 1972, which originates in Southeastern British Columbia, Canada, and flows through northwestern Montana and northern Idaho (Hardy et al., 2022). These low nutrient levels are what put aquatic species, such as the white sturgeon, under threat due to a shift in the ecosystem balance. Nutrients such as phosphorous, nitrogen, and even carbon are critical to maintaining the balance within both aquatic and terrestrial ecosystems. They also work to uphold a proper functioning food-web.
By Jack Knighton
Globally, wildfires are becoming more common. Research indicates that peak wildfire season has lengthened for over 25% of the Earth’s vegetated surface, causing an 18% increase in global mean fire season length (Jolly, et. al, 2013). In an October 2024 report, the Montana Legislative Fiscal Division found that 70% of the acres burned in Montana history have occurred after the year 2000. The report also found that Montana spent over $500 million dollars suppressing fires between 2002 and 2023, with a further $1.8 billion having been spent by federal agencies. With wildfires becoming more common, it is increasingly important that we understand local wildfire behavior to aid with suppression efforts.
Wildfire behavior is driven primarily by weather, topography, and the availability of fuel. Fuel availability varies throughout the year, and is primarily a function of moisture, vegetation type, and vegetation density. Vegetation type and density are driven by the amount of annual precipitation and average temperature. Drought impacts fuel moisture, allowing for more easily combustible fuel and increased rate of fire spread. Previous research (Clabo, 2018, Westerling et. al, 2003) has indicated that there may be correlations between local climate variables and increased wildfire activity, however no dedicated study has been conducted for Montana.
By Asher Malaschak
In the summer of 2017, the Northern Great Plains experienced one of the worst droughts of recorded history. At the time of recording, 2017 was ranked as the second driest year since the start of the 20th century (Wang 2019). This drought had devastating economic and environmental impacts, including the decimation of the local agriculture industry, loss of tourism in excess of $240 million, and multiple record-breaking wildfire breakouts (Hoell 2020). The surprising thing about this drought is that, in May, 2017 was considered to be an excellent agricultural year. By the middle of July, the drought was already deemed one of the region’s worst in recent history.
As it turns out, this phenomenon is not uncommon. This is what is known as a “flash drought,” or a rapid intensification of drought within a short time period, typically a month or less. It is generally associated with very high temperatures and clear skies lasting over a long time. Flash droughts can occur during a number of circumstances but are most dangerous when combined with drought conditions that are already present. This can cause significant harm to land that has already proven vulnerable, making the jobs of farmers, wildfire management, and others much more difficult.
I have decided to conduct research regarding flash droughts in the Northern Great Plains. The goal is to analyze the amount of coverage and the intensity of flash droughts in the past 40 years to identify how these patterns are changing. Given Earth’s ever-changing climate, it is vital to identify how climate change is affecting the frequency and severity of flash droughts. This research can also help identify the specific variables involved in climate change that are most responsible for changing the drought scene.
By Gavin Bird
Wildfires are a common and dangerous threat throughout the western United States, including in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Many of these wildfires are ignited by lightning during the summer months, which make up the primary fire season across much of the western United States. Between 1987 and 2016, more than 2,500 fires occurred in the Black Hills during June, July, and August, with over half attributed to lightning (Clabo 2018). These wildfires threaten lives, property, and natural resources while requiring significant and costly emergency responses and resources.
By Kendall Custer
On March 19th, 2003, residents of the Denver Metropolitan area and the adjacent foothills awoke to a winter wonderland. However, instead of thoughts of stressful work commutes and plans for backyard snowball fights, a sense of cabin fever was settling in. This was the third day of one of the largest snowstorms in Denver’s history. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) National Regional Climate Center snowfall accumulation database, some residents saw up to thirty inches of snow over four days. As a result, thousands of residents were on lockdown without power and unable to leave their homes.
While the March 2003 blizzard was one of the more memorable snowstorms in the past fifty years, Coloradans are familiar with large blizzards and their inevitable consequences. Other notable Denver storms include the Christmas 1982 blizzard that dropped nearly twenty-four inches of snow, and, more recently, the March 2021 “Pi Day” blizzard that buried the Front Range in twenty-seven inches of snow (data courtesy of the Denver/Boulder National Weather Service [NWS] Weather Forecast Office [WFO]). Large snowstorms like these often result in significant road and travel closures, power outages, and property damage, which are difficult to prepare for and a consequence of inaccurate weather forecasting. Yet, despite what many Coloradans believe, the local meteorologists are not at fault. It is the unfortunate reality of living near large mountain ranges, such as the Rocky Mountains, where radar and satellites struggle to track current weather patterns accurately and topography can change conditions on a dime.
Growing up as a Colorado native who has heard the stories of (and even lived through) these intense blizzards, I developed a passion for mountain meteorology and often wonder: how do we improve weather forecasting for the mountainous terrains that make up our colorful state? What can we as meteorologists do to gather accurate information to help major metropolitan areas mitigate impacts? These questions inspired me to choose the topic of my senior capstone project: investigating the patterns associated with mid-latitude cyclones and how they impact snowfall over Metro Denver and the Foothills.
As defined by NOAA’s National Environmental Satellite, Data, and Information Service (NESDIS), a mid-latitude cyclone is a low-pressure system that forms between 30° and 60° latitude, including most of the continental United States, excluding the Gulf Coast and Florida. These pressure systems fall on the “synoptic-scale” (NOAA), meaning their size can range from 620 to 1,500 miles, i.e., the size of one state to multiple at once. If you’ve ever looked at a weather map on the news before, you’ve likely seen a mid-latitude cyclone’s familiar “T-Bone” structure (Schultz & Mass). It consists of a red “L” (for the center of the low-pressure zone), a red line with semi-circles (a warm front), followed by a blue line with triangles (a cold front), and occasionally a purple line with alternating semi-circles and triangles (an occluded front). When looking through the lens of thermodynamics and atmospheric physics, a more complex framework appears, including what is referred to as “conveyor belts”: air bands that vary in temperature, moisture, and density (Lackmann). In a mid-latitude situated over the Midwestern United States, air flows counterclockwise around the low-pressure system. As it does so, warm, moist air is pulled from the Gulf, creating the “warm conveyor belt.” Meanwhile, an east-to-west “cold conveyor belt” of cold, moist air forms ahead of the warm front. When these two belts meet, the warm conveyor belt is quickly forced upward, where the air cools and condenses into clouds before falling as precipitation.
In my research, I hypothesize that when a mid-latitude cyclone brings blizzard conditions to Denver, the system’s low-pressure center is most likely positioned over southeastern Colorado. Here, the warm and cold conveyor belts have an easterly flow when they reach the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains and encounter upslope forcing, a process where topography redirects wind from horizontal to vertical flow. During this, the air is rapidly cooled, condensing into clouds and producing significant snowfall over Denver and the Foothills.
As mentioned earlier, forecasting these large, heavy snowfall events is challenging in regions like Denver, which is why research like mine focusing on the patterns of meteorological processes is essential. Improving the accuracy and timeliness of numerical weather forecasting can prepare residents (i.e., supply stocking), allow government agencies like the Colorado Department of Transportation to prepare roads by dropping sand/magnesium-chloride to prevent icing, and provide time for energy companies such as Excel to plan for power outages. In the end, these preparations not only keep metropolitan areas like Denver operating during large snowstorms but can save Coloradans’ lives, enforcing the necessity of improved weather forecasting and mountain meteorology research.
References
Denver/Boulder Weather Forecasting Office. (n.d.). Denver’s Fall/Winter/Spring Statistics. National Weather Service. https://www.weather.gov/bou/DenverFallWinterStatistics.
Lackmann, G. (2011). Midlatitude Synoptic Meteorology: Dynamics, Analysis, and Forecasting. American Meteorological Society.
NESDIS. (2018, June 22). Mid-Latitude Cyclone on the First Day of Summer. NOAA. https://www.nesdis.noaa.gov/news/mid-latitude-cyclone-the-first-day-of-summer.
NOAA Satellites. (2019). Powerful Storm System Seen by GOES West [Photograph]. NOAA. https://www.flickr.com/photos/125201706@N06/47380253391.
Schultz, D. M., & Mass, C. F. (1993). The Occlusion Process in a Midlatitude Cyclone over Land. Monthly Weather Review, 121(4), 918-940. https://doi.org/10.1175/1520-0493(1993)121%3C0918:TOPIAM%3E2.0.CO;2.
Synoptic Meteorology. (2023, May 16). NOAA. https://www.noaa.gov/jetstream/synoptic.
I am a Senior Atmospheric and Environmental Science Major with a Meteorology Specialization and a minor in Mathematics. The question of when I first became interested in the weather is greatly debated in my household, ranging from me searching our yard every day for fallen weather balloons after a local TV meteorologist visited my elementary school to when I would beg my dad to pull over so I could take a photo of a cool cloud. Regardless, every childhood fascination with something weather-related led me to today, where I have developed a passion for synoptic-scale meteorology, cyclogenesis, mountain meteorology, severe weather, and investigating the unknown. After graduation, I plan to continue my education by earning my master’s degree, ideally internationally (fingers crossed!), and eventually working in my dream career as an atmospheric researcher. When my head is not in the clouds or my textbooks, I enjoy a range of hobbies, including creative writing, arts/crafts, paddleboarding/hiking with my dog Hershey, and powerlifting.
By Colin Gholson
In the 1970s, my grandfather lived in western New Mexico, where he worked in the uranium mining industry. He has shared countless stories about his experiences working there. Since working there, he’s faced many health challenges, including losing a kidney to cancer. It was not until after working there that he learned he had developed health issues, likely due to working in poor and unsafe conditions. After learning about his personal experiences, it led me to ask the question of “why has this happened? And to whom else?”
New Mexico has long been a prime region for mining operations. Western New Mexico lies within the Colorado Plateau, a region that spans the Four Corners states. In the early 1940s, as the United States was in the height of World War II, there was a sharp uptick in uranium production as the federal government had initiated the Manhattan Project. The United States raced to create the key to victory in the war, the Little Boy, which was a uranium-235 atomic bomb that would eventually be dropped on Hiroshima. As part of the Manhattan Project, the United States government created the Atomic Energy Commission, which largely oversaw the production and development of nuclear energy and nuclear weapons, which included uranium mining. (Ringholz & Notarianni, 2006)
In the region where mining operations were taking off at an incredibly fast rate, it was bringing economic opportunity to the area and many members of the Navajo nation began to take up employment opportunities at many of these operations (Ringholz & Notarianni, 2006). In northwest New Mexico, where my grandfather resided, there were many mining operations. Researchers who surveyed the working conditions at these mines were alarmed at the levels of dangerous exposure the miners were experiencing, and began voicing their concerns (Ringholz & Notarianni, 2006).
For example, a notable problematic site was the Church Rock Uranium Mill. This mine was in operation from 1967 until 1982. During its operation, this mill processed around 3.5 million tons of uranium ore. Due to poor practices and the failure of the temporary uranium mills tailings disposal pond, around 1,100 tons of uranium waste and 94 million gallons of radioactive water seeped into the nearby Puerco River (US EPA, 2023). In 1982, the mining site was declared a Superfund Site by the United States Environmental Protection Agency. Yet, to this day, one of the top environmental issues in the region is groundwater contamination.
There are many questions which stem from these events. How do we fix these issues? What can we learn from these events? These questions are extremely important to investigate; however, we cannot always plan for the future by looking at past problems. I believe a better way to approach this part of environmental justice would be to ask “how do we hold mining companies accountable?” and “how is justice being served?”
This is why for my senior capstone I will be looking into answering these questions. Many past employees of these mining operations, including members of my own family, have been and are still currently impacted by poor practices. I strongly believe that more research is necessary to promote the health and wellbeing of all individuals impacted by the mining industry.
References
Ringholz, R. C., & Notarianni, P. F. (2006). Uranium Boom. In C. Whitley (Ed.), From the Ground Up: A History of Mining in Utah (pp. 142–165). University Press of Colorado. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt4cgn2r.13
US EPA, R. 09. (2023, August 10). Old Church Rock Mine. Www.epa.gov.
I am a senior at South Dakota Mines studying both Atmospheric & Environmental Sciences and Science, Technology, & Society. I was born and raised in South Dakota. Growing up, I was fascinated with the weather, spending my summers watching thunderstorms roll across the Great Plains. My love for weather pushed me to pursue further education at South Dakota Mines. During my time in school, I have developed a passion for law and policy, which has led me to focus my education on environmental issues. After college, I plan to attend either graduate school or law school. In my free time, I enjoy lifting and running, playing the piano, and hiking. In the spring and summer months, I enjoy a good storm chase, where I continue to be in awe of the thunderstorms in the Great Plains. I also enjoy spending time with my family, as my research project is inspired by the stories I’ve been told over the years.
