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Intro - Honest answers

There's no such thing as a bad question, as for our answers, well that's debatable

By Robert V. Sobczak

I may not know everything ...

But I know enough to share.

Gator likes reading good news

If there's a mantra that sums up Go Hydrology, that's probably it. Some twenty years ago, I could have spent my two years in the swamp and been on my way (to higher terrain). But no, I slogged on. And for what? To get to the bottom of the swamp's many mysteries, great and small, and to share them with you. What a shame it would have been had I let everything I created collect digital dust on my machine. People want to know about the water around them, and the real story. Not the the negative-water newspaper reel, and not the politically-safe press releases, not the boilerplate generic water fluff, and not the "too techie" charts and numbers that only an engineer could relate, and "sure as &%*!" (to quote my uncle Walter) the "please donate" centric (but shallow on the water) websites. At Go Hydrology our brand of water is bringing the water to "the people" in a way that they can dive into, have a truly immersive experience, and have a little fun. Attention people: Water is supposed to be fun. Not a chore. And that's what Go Hydrology is all about, or tries to espouse.

And the truth is: People want to be connected to the water, and in its unadulterated form, from a human voice, and someone willing to go out on a branch to get the word out (fortunately that branch is over water, so if I fall, it's only a splash).

From the mailbag


Eternal summer
The season that refuses to end

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Question: We know Florida has 1,350 miles of coastline, but is that shorter or longer than its endless summer?

Most tourist naturally assume:

Doesn’t summer in Florida last year-round?

Summer view at Naples Beach, Florida

While many a New England town has to wait around until the fourth of July for summer weather to fully take hold, only to watch it rapidly slip away in the weeks following Labor Day, summer in Florida is a solid six month affair.

To quote some of the locals: “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.” Anyone visiting Florida is astounded by the crush of super-heated dense air, thus giving rise to the maxim that, unlike the dry heat of the American Southwest where the shade offers reliably reprieve from the midday sun, shade does you no good in the Florida summer sun.

I implore you: Please do not listen to them. Among natives: the common wisdom is the complete opposite, to the point that you can usually tell a native Floridians in a crowd because they are the only ones standing in the shade. The shade makes as huge a difference as taking a dip in a pool or the Gulf or Atlantic coast.

Driving in a summer afternoon storm

Summer has personally grown on me over the years. The more I live in Florida, the more my blood has thinned. Or is it that I’m better at staying away from direct midday sun and finding the slivers of shade.

In a way I pity the winter tourists. They completely miss out on Florida’s afternoon summer storms. These events are truly something to behold, three-dimensional full body experience. Even better is the cool downbursts of air they produce, and sometimes even hail-sized raindrops that only melted minutes before they splash ice cold on your skin or down on the ground. Post storm, temperatures are easily a solid 10 degrees cooler, leaving you to ponder if it’s even summer at all.

Long live Florida’s endless summers, they get longer and more pleasant every year.


Florida’s flawed seasons
And why the water cycle works better

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Question: Does Florida even have seasons?

Why chose the water cycle …

Over the seasons for tracking the year?


Don’t get me wrong: The four seasons are great. And let’s also not forget, officially they are celestially defined by the position of the earth’s tilt as it rotates around the sun even. That being said, we tend to think of them meteorologically the most, or in other words, in terms of the weather.

That’s where the seasons and the calendar year for that matter fail us in Florida. For one, the meteorological seasons are skewed quite significantly from the normal continental norms. Summer-like weather lasts for six months, not three. And when fall weather will arrive is anyone’s guess. As for winter the season, it’s more accurately defined by a spattering of days. And spring? I’m not really sure other than the air is drier but it can get quite hot.

swamp cross section
Swamp’s cycle of flood and drought

Using January as the start of the year in Florida is also a complete fail. (Talk about getting the New Year off on the wrong start!) Why? January is smack dab in the middle of Florida’s dry season. How can we start a new year when the season still has another 4-5 months on the books? That’s where the water year comes in handy. It starts in May when the water table bottoms out and the wet season is about to begin.

So the big solution calls for a two-pronged approach: We replace the water cycle with the seasons and aligning our new annual clock with May, not January, as the start of the new year. And here’s the twist: we don’t have to drop the seasons and calendar year completely. We keep them in the mix, too. It’s not about replacing the old regime completely, it’s about custom crafting it to fit into Florida’s unique meteorologic mold.

The water year, wet season and dry season help us simplify the seasonal math.


What are watersh-editorials?
It's about giving water a voice at the table

It’s easy to love the water …

But who’s standing up for it when it needs a voice.

Giving water a seat at the table

That’s where Go Hydrology steps up to the plate with its watersh-editorials. What is a watersh-editorial? It’s basically an editorial about water, or some aspect of water or nature (sometimes the trees) that deserves everyone’s attention and deserves being fixed.

I know what your thinking: But isn’t Go Hydrology a place that steers clear of controversy and political camps? And what if we say the wrong thing — could that step on the wrong people’s toes?

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Question: Watersh-editorials are a way to give water a voice.

To be honest, I doubt it. And isn’t that what Go Hydrology is perfectly positioned to avoid. From Day One, the dialog at Go Hydrology has been about getting to the bottom of what the water in all its forms that both technical experts and lay enthusiasts can enjoy. Water is a great uniter, and something we can all stand, if not behind, then in (even if it is over ankle deep): Here at Go Hydrology we’re all about getting our feet wet. In sum, a watersh-editorial is not about pointing fingers, it’s about putting issues, information and ideas at peoples fingertips so we can all join forces to get the water right.

In my opinion – and I think I speak for the water on this – a civil dialog is a lost art form.


Anticipating fall
The long-awaited arrival of summer's end

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Question: Is fall the hurricane season or the start of the cooler half of the year, and when does it begin?

It’s never a question of if, but when …

While sooner than latter is always preferred.

Fall is Florida’s most anticipated season

Fall is probably Florida’s most anticipated season. After a long summer stretch of endless heat and humidity punctuated by an uptick in tropical storms at the end (and just when it looks like fall with never arrive), the arrival of cooler and drier weather is a reason for celebration across the state.

Up North on the continent, Labor Day usual signals the reliable shift to crisper fall air. The conventional wisdom in south Florida is that fall is still 6-8 weeks away, or is it closer than we think?

The clues are gradual at first, and quite subtle, making them easy to miss. Botanically, cypress lead they way as they slowly senesce, first to a duller shade of green and then a mix of browns and finally to gray – just bare branches – as the needles fall to the grown. Meteorologically, starting in early October, the summer afternoon rain machine sputters to a stop. Also working in the background is the steady drop in daylight hours and eventually the daylight savings one-hour shift. If you didn’t notice before, by 6 o’clock it’s getting dark.

When the first official cold front arrives

It’s about this time two that the first true blue cold fronts arrives. Not quite cold enough to wear long pants, it might inspire a long sleeve shirt and possibly a thin fleece.

Fall has arrived, at long last!


Waterless spring defies odds
Drought, fire and wildflowers

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Question: What’s the deal with the spring drought, and how to trees still green out without any water?

Spring is usually the sopping-wet season …

When rivers rise and flowers bloom, right?

Does this look like spring?

Normally, yes. Or at least that’s how it works in most parts of the country (i.e. Up North on the continent). April rains bring May flowers as they say, and dry soils predictably turn moist and muddy.

The swamp flips the normal spring convention on its head, but with a twist. The cypress trees of the swamp still green up each spring with the most verdant hue you’ll ever see, but don’t confuse the lush appearance with being wet. A closer inspection of the same cypress trees will reveal a rapid recession or absence of water at the base of its fluted trunks.

Dry cypress trees in a swamp? Isn’t a swamp supposed by a perpetually soggy place where alligators roam and wading birds hunt for fish? Isn’t dry land out of place?

Blooming wildflowers after a spring wildfire

Seasonal drought is actually normal in the swamp, and it peaks (or bottoms out) in April and May. The reason? Blame it on a combination of yawning daylight hours, rising temperatures, thirsty tree roots, and most of all the lack of rain. By early May, just before the summer afternoon showers begin again, as much as 90 percent (or more) of the swamp goes dry. The same cypress that turned green can quickly brown, not from drought, but from wildfires when they strike, with the size of the blazes largely being controlled by moisture levels in the swamp’s low spots, or as doused by chance rain events.

The blackened earth quickly turns green following a wildfire, punctuated by wildflowers and an eventual return of the summer rains.