But for picnic purposes the storm is far from being over. For even though continuous raining has stopped the low pressure still induces a degenerate sort of precipitation called showers, or oftener mist for another twelve hours (usually in winter). Then as the cooling influence of the anticyclone approaches the rain recommences. This time it is not for long, however, and is followed by permanent clearing, the wind shifting into the west. Sometimes the change to blue sky is abrupt. But if the subsequent anticyclone is not very well defined, cloudy conditions may linger for a couple of days. Such clouds are usually much broken and show white at the edges and never cause more than a chilly feeling.
This attempt to outline the customary cycle of the storm,—clear sky, cirrus cloud, wind-shift to the east, the denser cirro-stratus, the pavement-like stratus, the woolly nimbus, the first continuous hours of rain, the misty interval, the windshift to the west, the final shower, and breaking cloud, the all-blue sky—this storm-schedule is always subject to change. But the fundamentals are there in disguise every time. They only have to be looked for and there is some satisfaction in penetrating the disguise.
When a storm comes up the Atlantic Coast, as happens a few times a winter, the process is shortened, because the effects of the larger easterly quadrants are felt only at sea. The most prominent recent illustration of this type of storm was the severe snowstorm that swept the coast states from Carolina to Maine the Saturday before Easter, 1915. Its calendar read as follows: Friday, 8 P. M., cirrus clouds thickening into cirro-stratus. Midnight, stars faintly visible, wind from northeast, 12 miles an hour. Sunrise, stratus clouds, wind rising in gusts at Philadelphia to 30 miles; 8 A. M., rapid consolidation of clouds with snow shortly after, although the temperature at the surface of the earth was as high as seven degrees above the freezing point. This rapidly dropped to freezing. Flakes were irregular in size. Until one o’clock in the afternoon the snow thickened with gusts of wind up to forty miles. Snowfall for five hours was 14 inches, an unprecedented fall for this locality.
Then the storm waned for five hours more, 5 inches more of snow falling. Precipitation practically ceased at 6 P. M. By sunrise on Sunday the skies were free of clouds and the wind blew gently from the northwest.
Occasionally a high pressure area out at sea and beyond the ken of the Weather Bureau causes one of these coast storms to curve inward to the surprise of everybody. Occasionally, too, the transcontinental storms are driven north or south of their accustomed paths. While the divergence may be slight, it causes a margin of variance from the accuracy of the Bureau’s report. Then arises a second storm,—one of indignation—from all the people on one side of the strip who carried umbrellas to no purpose, and from the others,—who didn’t.
This pushing aside of the cyclone is caused by pressure variation that only hourly reports from many localities could detect. Vast hidden influences shift the weights ever so little and the meteorological express is wrecked. But this happens, at most, fifteen times in a hundred, and remembering the unseen agencies to be coped with people are refraining more and more from the tart criticisms of former times, not in charity but in justice, although there is small tendency yet to forward eulogies to the Bureau in recognition of the eighty-five times it is right.
CHAPTER IV
SKY SIGNS FOR CAMPERS