Chasing Rain in a Tropical Archipelago: When Do Storms Really Occur?

By Dony Christianto (d.christianto@pgr.reading.ac.uk)

“When do storms really happen?”

It sounds like a simple question—but in the tropics, there is rarely a simple answer.

We often learn this simple process: daytime heating drives peak afternoon rainfall. It is a useful idea—and in many cases, it works. But as we looked more closely at rainfall in Papua, it became clear that the atmosphere was telling a more complex story.

This work began in the field, in southern Papua near Timika. We worked with a network of Automatic Weather Stations (AWS) located across the extraordinary landscape of southern Papua (Figure 1). Across roughly 100 km, the terrain rises from sea level to mountain peaks exceeding 4,700 m. Along this steep transition, particularly in the foothill regions, rainfall reaches some of the highest values in the world, with annual totals of around 12,500 mm.

Figure 1: Automatic Weather Station network across Papua, spanning coast to high mountains, providing critical observations in a complex tropical environment.

This combination of coastline, lowland, and steep mountains creates a highly dynamic environment. Papua is not just another tropical region—it is a natural laboratory where local and large-scale atmospheric processes interact in complex ways.

The AWS data used in this study comes from a collaboration between PT Freeport Indonesia and BMKG (the Indonesian Agency for Meteorology, Climatology, and Geophysics). Maintaining these observations requires field visits, safety briefings, and working in remote areas where conditions can change rapidly. It is a reminder that every dataset has a story behind it—and that reliable ground observations remain essential, especially in regions as complex as Papua. This becomes particularly important when we consider how rainfall is commonly studied today.

Satellite products such as GPM-IMERG are widely used because they provide global coverage. In many studies, they are treated as a reference for understanding rainfall behaviour. But before relying on them, it is important to ask: how well do they represent what actually happens at the surface?

To address this, we compared satellite rainfall estimates with AWS observations in Papua (Figure 2).

Figure 2: Comparison of diurnal rainfall intensity between ground observations (AWS) and satellite estimates (GPM-IMERG), showing a consistent delay in satellite peak timing, with observed rainfall peaking around 16:00 local time and GPM-IMERG peaking later.

What we found was consistent across the dataset: satellite rainfall peaks tend to occur later than those observed at the ground, typically by around one to three hours. This delay reflects that satellites are more sensitive to mature convective systems and therefore detect rainfall after storms have already developed.

At first glance, a difference of a few hours may not seem significant. However, in meteorology, timing is critical.

Satellite datasets are often used to evaluate weather and climate models. If rainfall timing is systematically shifted, models that appear to perform well against satellite data may not accurately represent real surface processes. This also has implications for applications such as early warning systems, where even small timing differences can influence how rainfall events are detected.

Having established this, we then turned to a more fundamental question: when does rainfall actually occur?

While rainfall in Papua often peaks in the late afternoon (around 15:00–18:00 local time), our analysis revealed a second important rainfall regime in the early morning, typically between 03:00 and 09:00 (Figure 3).

Figure 3: Contrasting rainfall regimes in Papua: afternoon storms (15:00–18:00 LT) are associated with offshore propagation from inland regions, while morning storms (09:00–12:00 LT) are linked to onshore flow bringing precipitation inland. The lower panels show meridional wind anomalies, with blue indicating southward (offshore) flow and red indicating northward (onshore) flow.

These two rainfall peaks are not simply different in timing; they are produced by different atmospheric processes.

Afternoon rainfall is largely driven by local processes. Solar heating during the day warms the land surface, causing air to rise, consequently triggering convection. In Papua, this process is strongly enhanced by the presence of mountains, which help initiate and organise storm development. These systems typically form over land and propagate towards the coast.

Morning rainfall, in contrast, often originates over the ocean. During the night, convective systems develop offshore and are transported inland by low-level winds. In this case, rainfall is not initiated locally but carried from the sea.

This leads to a key insight: rainfall timing is closely linked to wind direction.

When winds are directed offshore (from land towards the sea), they favour afternoon and evening rainfall over land. Conversely, when winds are onshore (from sea towards land), they transport moisture inland and are associated with morning rainfall. These alternating wind regimes create distinct “windows” for storm development throughout the day.

The next question is: what controls these wind patterns? The answer lies in larger-scale atmospheric processes.

Phenomena such as the Madden–Julian Oscillation (MJO), equatorial Rossby waves, and seasonal monsoon circulations influence the background wind environment over Papua. For example, different phases of the MJO are associated with shifts in wind direction and moisture transport. Some phases favour onshore flow, increasing the likelihood of morning rainfall, while others favour conditions more conducive to afternoon convection.

This highlights an important point: rainfall in Papua is not controlled by a single mechanism, but by interactions across multiple scales.

This is where the role of local characteristics becomes critical.

Every region has its own unique combination of topography, coastline, and atmospheric conditions. These factors shape local circulation patterns, which determine how that region responds to larger-scale climate phenomena. This is particularly important in the tropical Maritime Continent, where thousands of islands differ in size, shape, elevation, and land–sea distribution. These differences influence surface properties such as albedo, heat capacity, and moisture availability, which in turn affect how energy is distributed within the atmosphere.

As a result, each island develops its own local circulation system. Even under the same large-scale forcing—such as the MJO or monsoon—different regions can exhibit very different rainfall behaviour. The interaction between local geography and atmospheric processes creates a wide range of responses across the region.

Papua, with its steep topography and strong land–sea contrasts, provides a clear example of this complexity.

From field observations to large-scale atmospheric dynamics, this study highlights a simple but important message: understanding rainfall in the tropics requires considering both the local environment and the broader climate system.

Because in regions like Papua, rainfall is determined not by a single process, but by the interaction of many.

The Secret “Glow” of Thirsty Plants: How Satellites are Learning to Spot Drought Before It Happens

By Khomkrit (Guy) Onkaew – k.onkaew@pgr.reading.ac.uk

If you look out at a cornfield or a dense forest, you see green. That’s chlorophyll, the pigment plants use to turn sunlight into energy. But there is something else happening in those leaves that the human eye completely misses. While they are basking in the sun, plants are also glowing.

During photosynthesis, plants absorb sunlight to create food. However, they don’t use 100% of the light they take in. A small fraction of that unused solar energy is re-emitted by the plant as a faint, reddish glow. This phenomenon is called Solar-Induced Chlorophyll Fluorescence, or SIF.

Left: Plant under daylight (535 nm). Right: Plant under UV light (365 nm), showing the reddish glow. (image source: https://www.exoticaesoterica.com/magazine/plantuvfluorescence)

Think of SIF as the “heartbeat” of a plant’s metabolism. When a plant is healthy and photosynthesising vigorously, this glow follows a regular pattern. But when a plant gets stressed — perhaps it’s too hot, or it hasn’t rained in weeks — that heartbeat changes.

For years, scientists have used special satellites to measure this glow from space to estimate how well vegetation is growing. Ideally, this glow would tell us exactly how productive the plants are. But there is a catch: a plant’s glow isn’t just determined by how much sun it gets; it is also determined by its “efficiency” in using that light.

This brings us to a question: What happens to that efficiency when the soil dries out?

Imagine you kink a garden hose: as you restrict the water, the flow changes. Similarly, when plants run out of water in the soil, they close their stomata — tiny pores on their leaves — to save moisture. This shuts down photosynthesis. The plant then has to deal with all that incoming sunlight that it can no longer use. To protect itself, the plant dissipates that excess energy as heat, which causes the fluorescence glow to dim or change in efficiency.

In other words, this means that long before a crop turns yellow and dies from drought, its glow changes. If we can understand the relationship between soil moisture and glow, we could potentially predict crop failures and droughts much earlier than we can by just looking at how green the plants are.

Decoding the Signal: A New Study on Africa’s Ecosystems

This is where our study steps in. We focused on the African continent to solve a specific puzzle: How does soil moisture stress change the fluorescence efficiency of plants?

Africa offers the perfect laboratory for this question because it holds almost every type of ecosystem imaginable, from the bone-dry Sahara and the semi-arid savannas to the lush Congo rainforest. We combined satellite data from The TROPOspheric Monitoring Instrument TROPOMI, which measures the SIF glow, with a sophisticated land model, the Joint UK Land Environment Simulator (JULES), which estimates soil moisture deep in the ground.

We tested two different models to see which one better predicted the actual glow observed by satellites:

1. The Baseline Model: Assumed the glow depends only on the light the plant absorbs.

2. The Soil Moisture Model: Assumed the glow is influenced by both the light absorbed and how wet the soil is.

African Plants’ Thirst Strategies

Our study produced some fascinating results regarding how different plants handle thirst. We found that fluorescence efficiency is not one-size-fits-all; it depends entirely on the plant’s “lifestyle”.

1. The “Panickers”: Croplands and Grasslands

We discovered that croplands and grasslands are the “drama queens” of the plant world; they easily panic as soon as the soil dries. These plants show the strongest reaction to soil moisture. When the topsoil dries out, their efficiency plummets; when the soil is wet, their efficiency spikes. This makes sense because crops like maize usually have shallow roots. They live and die by the moisture in the top layer of dirt, making them incredibly sensitive monitors for agricultural drought.

2. The “Resilient”: Evergreen Forests

On the other hand, evergreen forests (like those in the Congo basin) were surprisingly indifferent. Their fluorescence efficiency barely changed even when soil moisture levels changed. Why? These trees have deep, complex root systems that can tap into groundwater reserves far below the surface. They don’t panic when the topsoil gets dry because they have a backup water supply.

3. The “Balancers”: Savannas and Shrublands

Moreover, we found that plants in semi-arid regions like the Sahel have evolved to be adaptive. They ramp up their efficiency quickly at the first sign of rain, but don’t waste extra energy once they have “enough” water.

The Map of Improvement

We found that adding soil moisture data to these models significantly improved their ability to simulate the plant glow in semi-arid regions, such as the Sahel and Southern Africa (the blue area in Figure C). In these water-limited environments, you cannot understand the plant’s light signal without understanding the water in the soil.

However, the study also highlighted where the models fail. In wetlands such as the Okavango Delta and the Sudd Swamp (Locations 5 and 6 in Figure C, respectively), adding soil moisture data worsened the model or yielded no improvement. This is likely because satellite models struggle to understand complex water systems where water flows horizontally or sits just below the surface, keeping plants happy even when the model thinks they should be dry.

Spatial distribution maps of RMSE for two SIF simulation models across Africa. (a) RMSE between observed SIF and the Baseline Model (SIFa), which does not include soil moisture availability (β). (b) RMSE between observed SIF and the Soil Moisture Model (SIFb), which includes β. (c) RMSE difference (ΔRMSE = RMSEb − RMSEa). Blue regions (ΔRMSE < 0) indicate areas where including β improves model performance (Model 2 outperforms), while red areas (ΔRMSE > 0) show regions where including β worsens the fit. Grey areas indicate missing data.

The Takeaway

This research is a step toward “context-dependent” monitoring. We can’t just look at a satellite image and apply a single rule to the whole planet. To truly monitor the health of our food systems and forests from space, we have to treat a shallow-rooted cornfield in a semi-arid zone differently from a deep-rooted tree in a tropical forest. By linking the “glow” of the plants to the water in the soil, we are getting closer to a real-time health check for the Earth’s vegetation.

More details from the paper: https://doi.org/10.1080/01431161.2026.2618097