Somerset in Pictures: Sunrises and a lunar eclipse
Meanwhile, spring is springing across the county, with trees blossoming and people flocking to the beaches.
Take a look at some of the best pictures across Somerset this week.
Purple sky: Somerset photographer Matt captured this beautiful night sky above the Stanton Drew Stone Circles.
Early sunrise: As spring is springing, the sun is rising earlier and turning the sky pink and orange.
Beach days: Last weekend saw people flock to the beach in Weston-super-Mare, as they enjoyed the warmer weather.
In bloom: More springtime views were captured in Blue Anchor as apple trees are starting to bloom.
Support dog: Anne Herbert, a senior law lecturer at Bath Spa University, has Ehlers Danlos syndrome, which gives her skeletal instability. Without support dog Rafa, his owner may well be facing life in a wheelchair.
Follow BBC Somerset on Facebook and X. Send your story ideas to us on email or via WhatsApp on 0800 313 4630.
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Yahoo
26-07-2025
- Yahoo
City by the Bay? More like City by the Brrr! San Francisco is having its coldest summer in decades
Time to cue that famed quote, often falsely attributed to Mark Twain: "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." It's a cliche, sure. But this year it rings true. It really has been quite chilly in the City by the Bay, which is experiencing its coldest summer in decades, with no significant warm-up in sight and daytime highs topping out in the mid-60s. In downtown San Francisco, the average temperature in July has been 59.3 degrees, about one degree below normal, Matt Mehle, a meteorologist at the National Weather Service in Monterey, said Saturday. The average temperature in San Jose in July has been 67.4 degrees, about two degrees below normal, he said. And in Oakland, as of Saturday, the temperature had reached 75 degrees or higher just one time in July, compared with three times in February. "It's not record-breaking — but at this point, we're looking anywhere from 20 to 30 years since we've had this cold of a summer," said Mehle, noting that the area last saw similar weather patterns in the late 1990s. Mehle said a seasonal high-pressure system that typically brings warmer weather is somewhat misplaced this year, sitting farther west than normal. This summer, he said, a low-pressure system has been parked over the Pacific Northwest and California, leading to unrelenting cloud cover and cooler temperatures. Read more: Trump cuts to California National Weather Service leave 'critical' holes: 'It's unheard of' The "misplacement" of the high-pressure system, he added, has contributed to increased upwelling, a process by which strong winds bring deep, cold ocean water closer to the surface. When the wind blows over this colder water toward land, it brings the temperatures down. "The coastal upwelling has been really notable right outside the San Francisco Bay and west of Point Reyes," Mehle said. In the coming days, the drizzly gray weather along the coast is not expected to change much, said Mehle, who drove to work in Monterey on Saturday with his windshield wipers swishing. "We're basically locked in," he said of the weather conditions. Even in San Francisco, where countless summer tourists have unexpectedly shelled out money for sweatshirts and scarves, the chill has been the talk of the town. Nudist Pete Sferra, who keeps a journal describing how many times he walks the city in the buff, told The San Francisco Standard this week that he has "actually been enjoying quite a few nude strolls this year." But even he would not go out "if it's freezing." Walnut Creek resident Lisa Shedd, 60, told The Mercury News: "I certainly love the temperate weather. I'm not a fan of the really hot. I don't know if it means something bad or it means something good ... but I know I'm enjoying it." Karl the Fog — the anthropomorphized San Francisco fog with hundreds of thousands of followers on social media — joked on Instagram that the forecast for Thursday was "partly cloudy, winds coming in from the west, and a high chance of Trump being in the Epstein files." Farther north, this summer has brought oppressive inland heat and dangerous lightning storms. In Orleans — a tiny northeastern Humboldt County town near the site of the massive, barely-contained Butler fire in the Six Rivers and Klamath national forests— temperatures had been above 100 degrees seven times this month as of Saturday, according to the National Weather Service. Read more: At least four firefighters injured while battling Northern California wildfires In Redding, the temperature had hit 100 degrees or higher 11 times this month, topping out at 109 on July 11. Mild summer temperatures in Los Angeles, where the downtown high has averaged about 82 degrees in July, also have been satirized. This week, the popular @americanaatbrandmemes social media accounts posted a much-shared meme showing a man walking toward his house, saying: "Summer in LA has been pretty mild!" Just inside the door, unseen by him, a woman and two children are holding knives, ready to pounce. Their names are August, September and October. In the Bay Area, Mehle warned that "while we started off colder, that doesn't mean that summer is over." The hottest temperature ever recorded in downtown San Francisco, he noted, was 106, on Sept. 1, 2017. "We're sitting here under drizzle, clouds, in the cold," Mehle said. "It's the end of July. But summer is not over when you look at our climatology. Some people want slightly warmer temperatures — but you have to be careful what you wish for." Sign up for Essential California for news, features and recommendations from the L.A. Times and beyond in your inbox six days a week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Newsweek
21-07-2025
- Newsweek
New Jersey 'Blood Red' River Ignites Theories and Concern
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. A YouTube video from April sparked concerns about the end times on TikTok, as viewers wondered why the Passaic River in New Jersey appeared to be red. YouTuber Two Feet Outdoors posted a video on April 17 in which he paddled the Passaic, calling it "one of the most polluted rivers in the United States." About halfway through, as he passed the Newark Asphalt Corporation on the north side of Newark, the water became a deep red. "I'm paddling currently through red water," he said, lifting his paddle out to demonstrate. "Look at that. You can see in the splash that water is red. That is wild. [...] "It looks like fruit punch." File photo: Sun sets by the Passaic River after a large rainstorm in Paterson, New Jersey on December 18, 2023. File photo: Sun sets by the Passaic River after a large rainstorm in Paterson, New Jersey on December 18, 2023. Photo byIn an email to Newsweek, Two Feet Outdoors—who asked to be identified by only his first name, Matt—said he wasn't concerned about his own well-being in his limited exposure to the water, but he was concerned for the health of the river and the wildlife living in it. "I've been to a lot of dirty rivers, but nothing looked quite like that," Matt told Newsweek. A Dirty History The Lower Passaic River has a history of pollution that stretches back into the 1950s. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), the river was polluted by byproducts from the chemical herbicide Agent Orange—a substance best known for its use by the American military in the Vietnam War. The toxic byproduct released into the river was called "TCDD," known for causing cancer in humans and deformities in animals. As Matt paddled through the red water, he spotted a pair of Canada geese that flew away at the sight of him. "Look at that," he marveled, "They're splashing red water." Industrial contamination has also been a massive problem in the Passaic: According to the NOAA, more than 70 facilities located along the banks of the river have released contaminants into the water including pesticides, heavy metals and more. 'Are we currently living in Biblical times?' More conspiratorial TikTok users, however, saw the red water as an ominous sign. "Are we currently living in Biblical times?" user joed69 asked rhetorically, showing clips of Two Feet Outdoors' video. The user, along with numerous highly upvoted commentators, were referencing Revelations 16 in the New Testament, in which the Apostle John—describing a vision he received from God—wrote that he heard a loud voice sending seven angels out to pour out seven bowls of God's wrath on the Earth. "The third angel poured out his bowl on the rivers and springs of water, and they became blood," John wrote in verses four and five. "Then I heard the angel in charge of the waters say: 'You are just in these judgments, you who are and who were, the Holy One, because you have so judged; for they have shed the blood of your saints and prophets, and you have given them blood to drink as they deserve." A Pipe Leak The red water, however, was not blood. After seeing Two Feet Outdoors' video in April, the New Jersey Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) conducted an investigation. A spokesperson for the DEP told Newsweek that they determined there was a blocked sewage main around Safer Textiles—a textile processing mill along the Passaic near where Matt was paddling. According to the DEP, Safer Textiles dyes fabric and discharges its wastewater into the Newark sewage collection system for treatment, but the blocked sewage main caused sewage to back up and spill over into Newark's stormwater collection system, which discharged into the Passaic. The waste water was red when it discharged. The DEP clarified that Safer Textiles was properly disposing of its wastewater. When the Newark Sewer Department cleared the blockage, the issue resolved. According to the DEP, they are continuing to investigate that region of the river and sewage system. 'Cities need to do better' Matt said the department contacted him with an explanation. "I was very impressed with the response by the New Jersey [DEP]," Matt said. "They reached out to me before I was able to reach out to them. They took quick action and I was very pleased with how they handled it." Still, Matt told Newsweek that sewers are often a problem when he kayaks through New Jersey and New York in particular. "Routinely, raw sewage and often trash that gets flushed, is pumped into our waterways after major rain events through combined sewer overflows," Matt said. "The cities need to do better when it comes to waste water management to be able to handle this. Our waterways deserve better."
Yahoo
09-07-2025
- Yahoo
Clinging to trees, huddling on rooftops: Harrowing stories of survival in Texas floods
Some clung to trees. Others floated on mattresses. Many clambered onto rooftops. Survivors of the flooding in central Texas are beginning to share their harrowing experiences of escaping the deadly waters. With little warning from forecasters, some residents said they were alerted to the danger by panicked screaming and the sounds of the storm in the early morning hours of the holiday weekend. Rescue teams have scoured the area for signs of life and saved hundreds of people, pulling them into boats and helicopters. But many in hard-hit areas like Hunt, Texas, said they tried to save themselves. The survivors told their stories to USA TODAY. Before the sun rose on July 4, Taylor Bergmann awoke of the sound of his mother, Erin Burgess, screaming "We're flooding. We're flooding!" Water was coming in through the front door of their home in Hunt, located about 80 miles northwest of San Antonio. Bergmann, 19, could hear the glass back doors starting to crack under pressure. "After they broke, I mean, it was a matter of seconds, and there was five and a half feet of water in our house," said Bergmann, who works at a water park. They swam into the backyard where the fast-moving current swept away Burgess' boyfriend, Matt, and their dog Stella, Bergmann said. The mother and son tried to climb to their roof, but Burgess, who is recovering from facial surgery, couldn't make it. The pair wrapped themselves around a tree, with Burgess, a nurse, standing on her toes to keep her chin above water and Bergmann's six-foot frame shielding her from vehicles floating by. Bergmann said they stayed there for more than a hour until the water receded and they could take refuge at a neighbor's house. Eventually, they reunited with Burgess' boyfriend, Stella and another lucky survivor: their cat, Kiki, who rode out the flood on top of a mattress. Though they were able to save some of their belongings, the flood left their home a wreck, Bergmann said. "We're never living here again," he told USA TODAY. "We're selling the property, and we're moving very far away from running water." Maria Tapia, 64, awoke in the early morning of July 4 to the sharp cracking of thunder and what sounded like little rocks hitting her bedroom window. Then, she heard sounds of water from the nearby Guadalupe River rushing past. As Tapia, who manages the property, got up to inspect the noise, her ankle submerged in half a foot of water. The cabin they have called home in Hunt was built about 300 feet from the riverbed. Now, it was engulfed by the river itself. Tapia quickly jostled her husband, Felipe Tapia, 63, awake from a dead sleep and told him they needed to evacuate immediately. By the time the couple trudged to the living room, less than 10 minutes later, the water had risen to their knees. For minutes, they pushed against the front door, but it wouldn't open because of the pressure from the water. Finally, it budged. The couple furiously kicked through the screen door and plunged into the water outside, hoping to swim to their neighbor's house on higher ground. As she navigated the waters in the pitch black, Tapia said she heard the house's glass windows "popping" and shattering. "It was the worst night of my life," Tapia said. "It was a nightmare." Before the flood, she said life in Hunt was "paradise." She and her husband planted flowers and grass outside by the river and found a community of friends who also managed properties in the area. Now, she says, the town is "no more." "It is − how do you say − a ghost town," Tapia said. The house they fled is still mostly standing, but it's badly damaged from the storm. The truck the couple recently purchased as a "splurge" washed up down the hill and filled with debris. Others in the area fared worse – several of Tapia's friends are still missing, and she said some loved ones were found dead. Christian Fell was planning to spend his July 4 eating catfish and shooting off fireworks at his grandparents' home in Hunt. Instead, he fought for his life. Fell, 25, was awoken by a crack of thunder around 3 a.m. He could hear noise inside the house, too. He got up, thinking there might be an intruder. "When I swung my feet over the side of the bed and I stood up, I realized I was standing in water up to my ankle," said Fell, who was alone in the house. He headed for the kitchen door. But when he opened it, more water poured into the home. He said he made frantic phone calls to his family and 911, but he kept getting disconnected. As the water rose to his waist, he went back to the bedroom and desperately tried to climb onto the floating furniture. "I was pretty, pretty scared," he said. "That's kinda when I realized they can't do anything to get me out, and I had to do something to keep myself alive," he recalled. The bedroom door wouldn't budge, so Fell swam through a broken window. Once outside, he clamored onto a meter box, where he stood on the balls of his feet for the next three hours. From his perch, Fell said he could hear the sound of roaring water and houses being ripped off their foundations. It was pitch black outside, but occasionally a flash of lightning or a car floating by with its hazard lights on would illuminate the darkness. "The transformers blew up at one point, and it was like the sun came out and I could see clear as day," he said of the electrical equipment around him. "I just saw like all this debris and stuff getting carried away." Eventually, Fell spotted police walking through the street with a flashlight and decided it was safe to climb down. Though Fell was spared, the house was "destroyed," especially the wooden deck where his family used to gather to eat their Thanksgiving meal. "The whole house pretty much acted like a dam for me and blocked all the debris," he said. "It was pretty, pretty lucky that it did that because all that would have come crashing down on me." Addison Martin, 17, never prayed harder in her life. The high schooler was tumbling helplessly down the Guadalupe River, which had turned into a raging avalanche of water. She struggled to stay afloat, pummeled by debris and tree limbs. Cars and trailers floated nearby. But she had lost sight of her family. It had only been hours since their RV pulled into the riverside campground in Ingram, Texas, on July 3 after a nearly four-hour drive from Odessa, where she recently finished her junior year of high school. She joined her father and stepmother, Bobby and Amanda Martin, two brothers including Bailey Martin, a young Odessa police officer who had brought his girlfriend. They had planned a relaxing holiday weekend on the river. That night, she had trouble falling to sleep amid booming thunder and rain. Around 4 a.m., her brother woke the family up. Flooding that started slow was quickly accelerating. "I was just grabbing everything I could. I put on my shoes, I got my bag, my phone. And then my dad opened the camper door," she recalled, seeing the rising water. "We need to get into the car," she recalled her stepmother saying. "The car is gone," her father replied. Calls to 911 told them help was on the way, but first responders were swamped. As the water rose, they decided to climb a tree that sat between a camping spot that hung over an adjacent trailer. Addison and several family members stood on top. Then it started to shift. She saw her stepmother fall and tried to pull her up. She heard someone yelling for air. Soon she was in the water, fighting currents and limbs that briefly held her under. Her family members drifted out of sight. "I remember just thinking, I don't want to die," she said. She finally grabbed onto a branch and "held on for my life" for hours. Trees were falling into the water. She asked God to keep her tree up: "I've never prayed so much in my life." Daylight finally broke, the tree still standing. By roughly 8 a.m., she yelled to first responders who came with a boat. She and her brother were reunited at a rescue center. But later came the devastating news. Her father and stepmother had not survived. "They sat us down, me and my brother, to tell us that they were gone," she said. She learned that another brother, Bailey Martin, and his girlfriend were still missing. John Keith Martin, Bobby Martin's father, confirmed to USA TODAY that authorities had identified the bodies of the Odessa couple. Addison, speaking from her biological mother's home in Lubbock, Texas, said she's not sure what's next. She is awaiting word on those still missing. Funerals will be coming. Friends and family have started a GoFundMe to help with expenses. The sun was shining when Riata Schoepf, 19, arrived at the River Inn Resort & Conference Center for an annual trip with the family of her boyfriend, Ephraim Fry, on July 3. But by the next morning, one of the 33 people in their group was banging on the door telling them a flood was coming. Schoepf, a student, got in the car, but quickly learned the only ways out of Hunt were closed. With traffic at a standstill and debris crashing into them, they decided to ditch the car and wade through knee-deep water. "I lose my shoes, lose everything," she said. "Like we're just walking barefoot in this really, really disgusting water." By the time they made it back to the inn, the water was up to Schoepf's chest. The only way out was up, so the owner of the inn used bedsheets to pull them onto the roof. Schoepf estimated they managed to pull about 50 people to safety, including the entire group on Fry's family trip. "As we're pulling all these people up, you just see, like, cars flying, you see dumpsters flying down the road, trees like just slamming into everything," she said. Schoepf watched the flood rage and helicopters pluck people from the water until the flooding subsided a few hours later. Once the bridges were cleared, rescue workers loaded Schoepf and her loved ones into charter buses headed for a shelter. As she saw the decimated homes and people's belongings strewn about, the gravity of her near-death experience hit her. "It felt like literally the longest and quietest drive I've ever been on because everybody's just looking at the damage that it's done," she said. "And it's not even like it was a flood. It was like something out of this world." By 3 a.m. on July 5, Schoepf finally made it back home to Austin. She said she still hasn't fully processed the terrifying experience. "More of me feels guilty knowing that so many other people are in a worse situation," she said. This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Texas floods: Survivors describe clinging to trees, climbing buildings
