How climate risks are driving up insurance premiums around the US – visualized
‘Tight correlation’ between premium rises and counties deemed most at risk from climate crisis, experts say
Concern over the climate crisis may evaporate in the White House from January, but its financial costs are now starkly apparent to Americans in the form of soaring home insurance premiums – with those in the riskiest areas for floods, storms and wildfires suffering the steepest rises of all.
A mounting toll of severe hurricanes, floods, fires and other extreme events has caused average premiums to leap since 2020, with parts of the US most prone to disasters bearing the brunt. A climate crisis is starting to stir an insurance crisis.
Across all US counties, those in the top fifth for climate-driven disaster risk saw home premiums leap by 22% in just three years to 2023, compared to an overall average of a 13% rise in real terms, research of mortgage payment data has found. The Guardian has analyzed the study’s data to illustrate the places in the US at highest risk from disasters and insurance hikes. (snip)
“This has been the canary in the climate coalmine, and it’s now hitting households’ pocketbooks,” said Ben Keys, an economist at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School and co-author of the research. “You can deny climate change for whatever motivations you have but when insurance is going up because you live in a risky area, that’s hard to deny.” (snip-MORE)
The graphics on this article are Amazing, and should be seen. But I couldn’t get them to embed this time, so please click through.
Significant acceleration in the upper-ocean circulation of the equatorial Pacific Ocean over the past 30 years is impacting global weather patterns, according to a new study.
West-east near-surface current trend between 1993–2022. The blue colors show increased westward currents; red colors show increased eastward currents. The largest trends are observed in the central tropical Pacific Ocean (black box). Current velocity data from three equatorial moored buoys (yellow diamonds) provide a subsurface view on long-term upper-ocean current velocity trends. Credit: Journal of Geophysical Research: Oceans (2024). DOI: 10.1029/2024JC021343
The acceleration is driven by strengthening atmospheric winds. The oceanic currents are becoming stronger and shallower. Among the effects are increased frequency and intensity of El Niño and La Niña events.
The study is published in the Journal of Geophysical Research: Oceans.
Researchers used data collected between 1993–2022 from satellites, mooring buoys and ocean surface drifters.
They reanalysed wind data and satellite altitude measurements to create a high-resolution gridded map of ocean currents over time.
Among the findings is the roughly 20% acceleration of westward near-surface currents in the central equatorial Pacific.
North and south of the equator, currents going toward the poles have also accelerated. Currents going to the north pole have intensified by 57%, and the currents heading southward have increased 20%.
“The equatorial thermocline – a critical ocean layer for El Niño–Southern Oscillation (ENSO) dynamics – has steepened significantly,” says first author Franz Phillip Tuchen, a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Miami’s Ronenstiel School of Marine Atmospheric and Earth Science.
“This steepening trend could reduce ENSO amplitude in the eastern Pacific and favour more frequent central Pacific El Niño events, potentially altering regional and global climate patterns associated with ENSO.”
The new and comprehensive study provides a benchmark for climate models which have had limited success in accurately representing Pacific circulation and sea surface temperature trends.
The research helps explain why, for example, global mean sea surface temperatures have risen but parts of the tropical South Pacific have seen a cooling trend of more than –0.5°C over the past 3 decades.
Deep in the forest lies a wildflower that defies expectations. Often mistaken for a fungus, the plant is a pale, translucent white in bloom—sometimes tinted pink or, rarely, a deep red. The ephemeral flower blackens if touched and quickly decays if plucked from the earth.
This month, as we celebrate all things spooky and supernatural, it’s only fitting to spotlight a species that is both ghost and vampire: Monotropa uniflora.
This peculiar plant can be found throughout much of North America, East Asia, and in northern regions of South America. It typically grows in moist, shaded areas of mature forests, springing from the soil to flower between June and September. Each plant has only one cup-shaped flower per stem, which droops toward the ground at first bloom. This downward orientation is thought to protect its nectar and pollen from rain. Carl Linnaeus had these properties in mind when he classified the plant as Monotropa uniflora in 1753. “Monotropa” is Greek for “one turn,” a reference to the arched stem that supports the nodding flower, and “uniflora” means “one-flowered” in Latin. Once pollinated and fertilized, the flower gradually turns upright, eventually maturing into a dry, woody capsule filled with thousands of seeds.
Monotropa uniflora’s hooked appearance has also inspired its common names. “Indian pipe,” for instance, derives from the flower’s resemblance to ceremonial smoking pipes used by many North American Indigenous communities. Other common names are more closely linked to the plant’s eerie coloration, including “ghost pipe,” “ghost plant,” “corpse plant,” and “ice plant.”
Monotropa uniflora’s ghostly presence has just as much to do with what’s happening beneath the surface as above ground. Like any plant, Monotropa uniflora needs sugar to grow and reproduce. Most plants meet this need through photosynthesis, but Monotropa uniflora lacks chlorophyll, the pigment that gives plants their green color and powers the process by absorbing energy from light. It must seek sugar from another source.
The solution? Mycoheterotrophy: a form of plant nutrition in which plants obtain nourishment through networks of mycorrhizal fungi rather than photosynthesis. In this case, tiny threads of fungi in the Russulaceae family act as an underground bridge between the roots of Monotropa uniflora and those of nearby trees. The mycorrhizae deliver water and essential minerals to the trees in exchange for sugar. Monotropa uniflora takes advantage of this relationship by acting as a parasite on the fungal network, taking sugar and nutrients and giving nothing in return.
Monotropa uniflora seed capsules by Ryan Hodnett via Wikimedia Commons
Mycoheterotrophy is a stroke of evolutionary genius. Monotropa uniflora essentially cheats the mycorrhizal fungi and trees from which it receives sustenance.
“The photosynthetic host cannot select against the mycoheterotroph without selecting against its own mutualist mycorrhizal fungi,” explain scientists Sylvia Yang and Donald H. Pfister. Additionally, because mycoheterotrophs aren’t dependent on light for photosynthesis, Monotropa uniflora can flourish in dark environments where many plants would fail.
Monotropa uniflora in Lore and Literature
All of these curious traits have made Monotropa uniflora an object of fascination for generations of storytellers. The plant is woven into oral histories and written narratives across cultures.
Cherokee storyteller Lloyd Arneach chronicles the plant’s creation as a product of human selfishness. As the legend goes, the chiefs of two quarreling nations smoked a pipe together before resolving their weeklong dispute. According to Arneach, “[The Great Spirit] decided to do something to remind all people to smoke the pipe only when making peace. So He turned them into grayish-looking flowers we now call ‘Indian Pipes’ and made them to grow wherever friends and relatives have quarreled.”
Cover of the first edition of Poems by Emily Dickinson via Wikimedia Commons
One of the most prominent storytellers to depict Monotropa uniflora was Emily Dickinson. Although widely recognized for her poetic prowess, Dickinson was also an amateur botanist. While taking botany courses at Amherst Academy and Mount Holyoke Female Seminary, she assembled more than 400 plant specimens in an herbarium that resides in Harvard’s Houghton Library today. Monotropa uniflora is among the hundreds of pressed plants that fill the book’s pages.
Plants provided constant inspiration for Dickinson’s literary works.
“Like flowers in an herbarium, the odd little poems are a faithful inventory of the natural world,” writes Barbara C. Mallonee. Monotropa uniflora is no exception, appearing in a number of Dickinson’s poems and letters. In one quatrain, she writes:
White as an Indian Pipe Red as a Cardinal Flower Fabulous as a Moon at Noon February Hour—
Scholars including Yanbin Kang are working to decipher the symbolism of Monotropa uniflora in Dickinson’s poetry. The plant’s white color could represent purity. Its nodding flower could suggest humility. Its ability to thrive where other plants cannot calls to mind both strength and loneliness—qualities that might have resonated with Dickinson, who lived reclusively at her family’s homestead later in life.
In 1882, Dickinson received a painting of Monotropa uniflora from Mabel Loomis Todd, a family friend who would become the poet’s first posthumous editor. In her letter thanking Todd for the gift, Dickinson wrote “[t]hat without suspecting it you should send me the preferred flower of life, seems almost supernatural, and the sweet glee that I felt at meeting it, I could confide to none.”
Eight years later, Todd shared Dickinson’s words with the world by publishing the first collection of her poems. Todd’s illustration of the poet’s beloved “preferred flower of life” graced the front cover.
Dickinson wasn’t the only poet to pay homage to this otherworldly plant. Sylvia Plath, another Massachusetts resident with botanical interests, mentions Monotropa uniflora in her poem “Child.” She wrote this poem in January 1963, only two weeks before her death. It’s addressed to an infant discovering the world, unburdened by the darkness that casts a shadow over the narrating mother. Immersed in “the zoo of the new,” the child learns of “Indian pipe” along with “April snowdrop”—two white, nodding flowers linked with the fleeting innocence of childhood.
More recently, Christine Butterworth-McDermott’s 2019 poem “Monotropa Uniflora” plays with the plant’s simultaneous embodiment of force and fragility. The employment of bold, active language (“you feast off other hosts”) and softer expressions (“how pale! how delicate!”) reminds us of the complex nature of Monotropa uniflora’s existence. It’s both a skillful parasite and a sensitive species that begins to decompose upon separation from the fungal network that provides its nourishment.
Medicinal Benefits and Modern Use
Monotropa uniflora’s significance isn’t only poetic, it’s practical. Several Indigenous groups in North America used the plant to treat ailments including inflamed eyes, epileptic fits, and toothaches. These properties were later echoed in books on the medicinal benefits of plants. In 1887, Monotropa uniflora was even deemed “an excellent substitute for opium,” easing pain and inducing sleep.
Today, tinctures made with Monotropa uniflora are sold on various online platforms. Foragers have also taken to social media to share the process of gathering the plant and making tinctures of their own. Their posts often advocate responsible harvest practices, namely leaving pollinated flowers untouched and collecting only in regions where the plant is abundant. Monotropa uniflora is at risk of local extinction in states including California, Nebraska, and South Dakota. It faces increasing pressure from wild collection for medicinal use, although more research is needed to determine the scope and severity of this existential threat.
With ties to ecology, poetry, medicine, and more, the ghost of the forest has several stories to tell. If you spot Monotropa uniflora in bloom, bright against the darkness of the forest floor, take a moment to contemplate the many ways in which humans have interacted with it for centuries. This is the mission of the Dumbarton Oaks Plant Humanities Initiative: to appreciate the unparalleled significance of plants to human culture.
Between jets, yachts and investments in destructive companies, billionaires are speed running the apocalypse
Brandon Vigliarolo Wed 30 Oct 2024 // 10:30 UTC
Despite their self-professed environmental bona fides, tech billionaires like Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and the their ilk are responsible for so much carbon emissions that the average person would need a lifetime to match the amount one of them spews in 90 minutes.
That’s the claim from international nonprofit Oxfam, which yesterday published what it said is the first-ever study looking at the luxury transport (i.e., private jets and yachts) and investment emissions of 50 of the world’s richest billionaires.
“Oxfam’s research makes it painfully clear: the extreme emissions of the richest, from their luxury lifestyles and even more from their polluting investments, are fueling inequality, hunger and – make no mistake – threatening lives,” Oxfam International executive director Amitabh Behar said of the findings. “It’s not just unfair that their reckless pollution and unbridled greed is fueling the very crisis threatening our collective future – it’s lethal.”
Private jets, one of the most visible and publicized ways the ultra-rich get around, are significant polluters but still pale in comparison to the impact of their other indulgences. Billionaires are “treating our planet like their personal playground [and] setting it ablaze for pleasure and profit,” in Behar’s words.
Oxfam was able to identify private jets belonging to 23 of the billionaires it looked at for its report, and found that they flew an average of 184 times in a 12-month period, spending around 425 hours in the air during the period. Those jets emitted an average of 2,074 tons of carbon dioxide – equivalent to what the average person would emit in 300 years, or what someone in the global poorest 50 percent would emit if they lived for two millennia.
Musk and Bezos were called out for particularly egregious emissions, with Musk’s fleet of two (known) private jets responsible for 5,497 tons of CO2 over the course of a year (equivalent to 834 years of emissions from the average Earthling), and Bezos’ two-jet fleet emitting around 2,908 tons of carbon.
Once a darling of environmentalists for his work on electric vehicles, Musk has had no shortage of negative coverage for his excessive use of private jets, including for incredibly brief flights instead of a surface commute.
Yachts are even worse, with the average seafaring billionaire pleasure boat responsible for nearly three times as much carbon emission as the average private jet.
Along with looking at jet and yacht emissions, Oxfam also examined the stakes that various billionaires have in corporations and their publicly stated emissions, and the findings are stark.
Of the 50 billionaires studied, around 40 percent of their investments were in high-polluting industries like oil, mining, and shipping, with few having significant renewable energy investments. That means the average billionaire’s investment portfolio is responsible for 340 times the emissions of private jets and yachts – combined.
But don’t forget to recycle While the billionaires in the study might be raking in the cash for themselves, Oxfam said that its findings suggest their voluminous carbon footprints are causing far more losses around the globe. (snip-More)
Not taking this personally, but: I do not read every link in every post every time. I do read at least one link from each post with a link, as soon as I get there. I admire that you can do that! And if you’re ready to quit, I don’t blame you. Do as you will, but you are not unappreciated, FWIW. 🖖 ☮ 🌞 I hope we still get to see ya around!
Marine biologists have challenged the claim that lack of food is driving a population crash in killer whales in the Pacific Ocean saying boat noise may be the issue.
Killer whales (Orcinus orca) frequent the waters of British Columbia and feed on Chinook salmon.
Killer whale pod in Johnstone Strait, British Columbia. Credit: Francois Gohier/VW Pics/Universal Images Group via Getty Images.
Researchers from the University of British Columbia in Canada used echosounder data to determine prey salmon densities, as well as discussions with local anglers and whale watching crews in British Columbia, Canada.
There are 2 different populations. One population is local to northern waters. These killer whales have tripled their numbers to about 300 individuals since monitoring began in the 1970s.
The other population inhabits the waters between British Columbia and California to the south. Their numbers fluctuated between 66 and 98 individuals with the latest census putting their numbers at just 73.
“The differing trajectories of these two populations of fish-eating killer whales have been attributed to ecological and biological differences between regions such as prey availability, diet breadth, competition, physical disturbance, underwater noise, contaminants and inbreeding,” the authors write. “However, food availability likely plays the greatest role in limiting their carrying capacities.”
Previous research has shown a correlation between salmon numbers and killer whale population health. But the authors say these studies have never been able to show why the southern population was struggling.
In fact, the southern population of killer whale is the only marine mammal that is struggling in the region. Harbour seals, sea lions, other types of whale and porpoises are all thriving.
Nevertheless lack of access to the Chinook salmon was always put down as the reason for the killer whales’ woes.
But sport anglers told the researchers that they have noticed no drop in salmon numbers. And whale watchers have reported that they have regularly seen the endangered orcas swimming among salmon.
The researchers suggest that the issue isn’t lack of salmon, but that the southern population of killer whales are having trouble catching their prey. This, they say, is likely due to noise from boats. The area where the southern orca population lives has far higher sea traffic than the regions further north.
It’s also possible the orca struggle to hunt at different times of year. They may find enough salmon in summer, but have trouble during spring.
The findings are presented in a paper published in PLOS ONE.
Scottie's Playtime 
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