I want my Spring back

morning sun on the garden in spring - 2006

Where did Spring go?

Breaking out of winter, it was satisfying seeing the piles and mounds of snow disappear and the world of plants waking up again. No more snow blowing or shoveling, it was time to think of soils and mulch and getting excited over another gardening season.

Tuesday was in the 60's and sunny, feeling like mid-spring or late summer. Wednesday we slipped into an autumn feel, with rain all day and a touch of sleet now and then, as though we were salted by (insert your favorite deity). Woke up on Thursday with everything covered in snow and flurries all day and for the next few days. And today, Friday, we started out with 20 and the next couple of days are not going to improve (read that as getting warm again) on that.

Crocus are in color and Violas have buds but neither is going to open for a while. It is frustrating and I'm feeling like the joggers running in place on street corners, waiting for the light to change and they can run again. This is a time for moving forward and I don't want to be held back. Sigh, it's spring weather in the Great Northeast.

Blowing in the wind

California Dreamin'? Nah!

We finally dug ourselves out, mostly, and enjoyed the beautful and bountiful snow from last week. I'm cheating with this picture from several years ago, as the snow is much higher than this. But it does give a glimpse of something I always try to do when I'm clearing snow, making annexes to the main cleared areas. They're usually made to aid the dogs and clear out some play areas. I haven't been able to make my usual broad areas and have made small aisles for accessing the bird feeder and suet feeder. We have a small deck on the back of the house and I always blow the snow away after we push it off so this will be the dogs' new play area. We blew through 5 gallons of gas so fast it was scary, but absolutely necessary. I'm still haunted by our first winter here when I was unable to keep up with hand shoveling the snow away. And who knew I would be prescient, for once, and bought a new auger belt for the snow blower a few weeks ago, especially when it seemed the snows would never be coming.

Aisle leading to the bird feeder.
A bird bath in front of the big grass is buried

Magical Morning

I had no idea when I woke up this morning that I would be seeing the most beautiful morning of my life. It seduced and enthralled me, drawing me to experience a new wonder. I felt as Lucy must, as she traveled through C.S. Lewis' wardrobe into a new world. It is a cliché but it really was a winter wonderland.

I knew temperatures during the night had been in the low single digits and I expected a hoar frost coating on the trees. I was also aware that during the last few hours before dawn, the temps had risen to the low teens. Because our road and other features were obscured, I suspected it had been snowing but was unsure of how much had been received. The dogs were pushing me to attend to them so we ventured out before sunrise.

Willow by Pond - on another day in another place

I stepped out of my wardrobe the door, instantly bewitched. It had indeed snowed, only a couple of inches, but everything had been remade. Everywhere I looked the snow covering the mown areas was flat, smooth, and unblemished, like a finely iced cake. All of the shrubs, trees, and other plants had their surfaces encrusted, as if the frost had adhered the flakes to them. Snow was still falling but lightly, in medium flakes, like small squares of cellophane than water transformed.

Enough to see by but not enough for sharp detail, the light made a dreamy world of black and white. I was being mesmerized, knew it, and wanted more. Plants and areas I encounter daily with shallow inspection became valued objects to be studied and adored. I couldn't get enough, as each step the vignette changed and insisted on my appreciating it. I felt lifted beyond an ordinary experience, visiting another realm.

The dogs were indifferent, no surprise there, wanting to be inside again for breakfast. The world changed when the sun came up and color was restored. Branches began losing their white coats, creating small puffs as they spooched on the ground. A light breeze began, exposing more bark and my familiar world was coming back. Although still gorgeous, the aching beauty was gone but it still haunts me.

More Uncommon Weather

In an addendum to yesterday's post, more news about uncommon weather.

Unseasonable cold.
From the San Francisco Chronicle: Snow and cold weather in the hills north of Los Angeles and east of Malibu here.

Unseasonable warm.
From Yahoo: Warm and mild weather in Europe and Russia here.

Ice Storm in January

doppler radar image from Monday

The ice storm hit the U.S. hard, in a broad swath from Texas in the southwest to Maine in the northeast. As of today, the statistics are grim: 55 people dead in 9 states and 300,000 still without electricity. The storm had been predicted and warnings were posted but some things are out of our control. Tree limbs fell, no longer able to support the one-inch casing of ice building on them, causing many of the outages and falling on buildings. Overhead wires and supporting poles, unable to hold up under the growing load, leaned and buckled. The only saving grace was it happened on a holiday, Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and fewer people were on the road than a typical Monday.

My local area was little affected and we feel very lucky to have dodged a bullet. We had a variety of precipitation, combining rain, sleet, snow, and rain into a layered sandwich but none or little of the ice build-up of freezing rain. Counties north of Albany were encased in ice and continue to have problems, as are many areas of the country.

So why did this happen? Most people are blaming global warming but there is a primary cause for this particular storm: El Niño.

satellite image from Monday

What is El Niño and what causes it? From the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA):

El Niño results from interaction between the surface layers of the ocean and the overlying atmosphere in the tropical Pacific. It is the internal dynamics of the coupled ocean-atmosphere system that determine the onset and termination of El Niño events. The physical processes are complicated, but they involve unstable air-sea interaction and planetary scale oceanic waves. The system oscillates between warm (El Niño) to neutral (or cold) conditions with a natural periodicity of roughly 3-4 years.

The size and location of the large pool of warm water called El Niño varies from year to year. California typically receives 18-20 inches of rain in a year, most of it in the winter. Storms out of Alaska bathe the coast and drop snow in the Sierras. When El Niño is large and in a northern area, it drives the storms north and away from the state, setting up drought conditions. The size and location of El Niño has a significant effect on winter weather in California.

The picture above shows clouds streaming from the Southwest to the Northeast. If you track back from the U.S. through Mexico and into the Pacific Ocean, the origin would be pointing to El Niño. I don't know if global warming is a cause or contributor, but I never expected El Niño to influence weather in New York and the East.

Record Temps for Winter

big snow at the barn in '03

Unending sources of conversation with folks (my family, maybe) not living in my area are my temperatures and, more specifically, winter temperatures and how cold can it go here. I have acclimated enough that, unless it slides below zero degrees, I am almost indifferent to the cold. Sure, sometimes it can be uncomfortable, depending on the speed and direction of the winds, but with the right clothing and boots, it is easily tolerable and many times enjoyable.

Last winter still sticks in my mind because of its relative mildness, especially when compared with our previous winters here. Our first winter, back in 2002-03, is remembered as the snowy winter. The snows started early that year, keeping the ground covered throughout November and staying that way through March. We had record snowfall on Christmas day of around three feet and followed that a week later with another two and a half feet. We didn't have a snow blower at that time and relied on a local man to plow our driveways at the house and barn. He was inexpensive enough but we only used him when snowfall or windblown snow overwhelmed my efforts to keep the areas cleared with a hand shovel. Our driveway is about 130 feet long with another 40 plus feet at the barn.

Our plower might have been inexperienced or overwhelmed with the quantity of snow that year and left some peculiar mounds of snow in awkward and very inconvenient areas (like right outside our garage door!) The entry door set into our garage is our most common way of entering and leaving the house and I had to shovel daily to keep this area passable. This wasn't always easy because the mound of snow was compressed by the plow and was virtually impervious to my shoveling, acting as a giant untouchable rock.

The same situation was also at the barn where another "brotherly" mound of snow was left right next to the doorway. Two problems with that. The barn doors slide open and one mound of snow was preventing the door from opening and, because we store our vehicles in the barn during the winter, we couldn't back the truck out. Our barn doors are set perpendicular to the road and the driveway is one continuous curve. Our truck is over 21 feet long and when backed out needs a bit more room past the plane of the doorway to successfully clear the snow. Space for clearance wasn't left so we had to hand shovel the imposing mound. It was over our heads, of very hard and compacted snow, and we re-enacted Donner Party members shoveling our way to freedom. If you think of it as a giant hard snowball you will understand what we faced. But we persevered and were finally able to free up some space.

All of this snow removal, moving, and work has colored the way I think of winter here. I fully expect every winter and each storm to be like our first ones and have adapted my snow removal to it. We got a snow blower before the next winter began and I spent, and continue to spend, an enormous amount of time keeping all areas well-groomed and cleared so our lives and activities can continue without hindrance.

Our second winter, during 2003-04, began with a Nor'easter storm in early December, dumping on us with about two and a half feet of snow. And that was pretty much it for snowfall that winter. It was cold enough to always have it around and was replenished by lake-effect snow flurries but no other storms of significance. Temperatures seemed about average, no warm melt days but also no bone-jarring cold periods.

Our third winter, 2004-05, is remembered for its cold. There was a two week period in January of constant -20 degree nights and days often under zero. Neither the dogs nor us stayed outside very long during this time. It was odd starting the truck and hearing the fuel pump until it was very well warmed up, miles later. A small flock of turkeys visited us during this cold period. We sometimes hear turkeys but don't often see them, so this was a novel experience. The turkeys spent their time with us down by the slightly more protected area of the big creek. They pecked for food through the burdock seed heads and roosting in the trees when they weren't eating. We were still locked in our cold front throughout March. It was frustrating knowing the jet stream was blocking warmer air in Pennsylvania (it was in the 60s!) from reaching us.

Last year, 2005-06, I remember as the mild winter. There wasn't much snow, with only a couple of storms laying down a foot or less of powder each time. Several warm periods in December, January, and February melted all of the snow and it looked odd to see bare ground without snow during those months. It was so warm, in fact, that in February a Great Blue Heron was wading in the little run0ff creek. It's still too weird to think about.

I have always been a more than avid weather watcher. My work at plant nurseries and commuting by bicycle for 14 years have made me highly sensitized to temperatures, storms, and day lengths. I realized in early December that this winter was milder than our previous ones. But I thought it would be just an interlude before the arctic fronts from Canada would descend on us and embrace us for months on end. It hasn't happened this year and I don't know if it will. It has been a mind-boggling and incredibly mild winter: only one night has hit seven degrees and most nights the lowest it has been is in the low twenties. The days have been equally mild with most highs in the forties and high thirties.

The weather pattern doesn't seem ready to change and I can't tell if it will. What has made this winter incredibly easy for us - I still haven't fired up the snow blower and was able to dig in the soil yesterday - is putting an enormous stress on the native animals and plants. They are well adapted to the cold and have built their life cycles on it. Most mammals hibernate at set temperatures but they are awake this year and need food, which is not in great abundance. Why should it when most of the animals are normally sleeping during this time? A vicious cycle has started and the fall-out may be less animals, and certainly less vigorous animals, this year.

Plants seem ready to come out of dormancy. When the trees and shrubs go dormant, a lot of the energy they've made is stored in their roots. When temperatures and sunlight are right, the plants replenish their selves with that energy, the "rising sap" phenomenon. Will the plants use up too much of their stored energy or are they still waiting? I can't say but I do ponder what this out-of-ordinary weather is doing to them.

I shake my head at the recent headlines in the news regarding the uncommon warmness of this winter. It's funny how the different news sources are in synchronicity with the timing of their reports. I've been aware of the unusual winter for weeks and wonder why they haven't. Maybe they are too closed off from the natural world or have been pre-occupied with the political turmoil this year.

Normal highs in early January are in the 20's with the hope of reaching 30. Yesterday the high was 60.

Three Strange Days: Sunday

It’s Sunday morning and here I am outside again with the dogs. It is softly quiet, especially after Saturday’s storm. It isn’t too cold, only in the 30s, but my hood is up out of habit. Not too far from the house I feel something touch my cheek. It’s too dark to see clearly so I turn around to face the house lights and can see little specks gently coming down, it’s snowing.

It must have just started, as there is none on the ground. The dogs are indifferent and oblivious to it. They are busy looking around to see what needs to be seen and reacquainting themselves to the smells of the world to bother with the insignificance of the snow. It speckles their fur and melts there but they don’t notice.

Snow had been forecasted and here it was. Lake Effect snow is caused by winds passing over the Great Lakes, picking up moisture from the warmer water and releasing it as snow downwind. This is often the type of snow we receive and has been forecasted for today. Weather maps are showing an unfamiliar pattern. Lake Ontario, to the west, is the usual origin of our snows but today's will be from further south, Lake Erie. The question is how much will we get. Meteorologists have pegged most of the snow will be falling north of us, in the lower hills leading to the Adirondacks. Rarely focusing on us, the forecasts can be wrong.

The pressure fronts from the rains yesterday often have strong winds following them and today is no exception. The winds increase their speed as the sun reveals more of the day. The snow in the flurries is driven in horizontal streams that barely accumulate. This is typical of our Lake Effect snow but it buries the cities closer to the Great Lakes. It’s the reason Syracuse usually wins the Golden Snowball award for snowiest city in New York.

It looks nasty outside as the winds howl, reaching velocities of 50 mph at times. But experience has shown it is mostly a show, the wind being more uncomfortable than the snow. The flakes are uncommonly big, probably from the warmer temperatures than are typical for winter. The warm ground is melting the snow and keeps it from accumulating. The sun comes out now and again, making for a weird pairing of snow and sunshine on a backdrop of green lawns.

The wood stove is full, bathing us in luxuriant heat. The views outside are entertaining us with their constant changes, the wind swirling around, sometimes chasing itself. Beth has filled the house with the aromas of butter, sugar, and spices while baking refreshments. We’re glad it’s not worse because we need go out later in the day. Our local historical association is sponsoring a talk on gravestones, appropriate because Halloween is on Tuesday.

I’m an inexperienced but improving winter driver. Roadways of snow and ice still make me anxious but today’s is easy, almost fun. The drive is a breeze and in a few minutes we arrive. Parking in front of what appears to be a prototypical New England white church, we arrive at the Roseboom Historical Association.

We are early, for once, and head on in. Beth made oatmeal raisin cookies and found a place for them on the already burgeoning dessert table. We reacquainted ourselves with old friends and introduced ourselves to new ones and settled down for a fascinating lecture on the history and sybolism of gravestones and markers in our area of the Northeast.

After the lecture we continued meeting and greeting everyone and eating too much, as usual. I couldn't help but be continually distracted with the views from the front windows. The novel perspective of a south-facing view down a valley surrounded by high and steep hills was too arresting to be ignored. Waves of snow flurries were showering the length of the valley, as irregular in their appearance as foggy wisps on humid days. An incredible sight I feel lucky to experience.

So there you have it, three days of tumultuous weather. This old saying has an undercurrent of truth in it: If you don't like the weather just wait, it will soon change.

Three Strange Days: Saturday

We knew by early Friday that a storm would be coming in over the weekend. This storm had recently rushed through Texas and Louisiana, leaving flooding behind it. It had also dumped a sizeable amount of early snow in Colorado, with drivers unprepared for a winter-like storm so early in the season. The radar pictures showed an enormous mass covering the eastern part of the Midwest and upper south, heading towards the Mid-Atlantic States and us in the Northeast. We knew it was coming and waited for its arrival.

I woke up a little after midnight to the ping of raindrops hitting the window. Our window faces north and most storms don’t hit it but this one was. Bad sign. The storm was unrelenting, continuing for hours. Our house is fairly tight so we weren’t worried – ok, maybe a tad worried – about damage to it but this year has been exceptionally wet and another dumping of water would not be helping anyone.

It’s my chore to take the dogs out for first potty and they are usually ready at dawn. This morning was much darker than usual but the dogs’ expert timing was on display, amplified by their urgent need. Dressed with a slicker, boots, and hat, I was ready to plunge outside. I’m always curious to watch the dogs’ reactions when they first encounter changed weather. First snows, frosts, and rain always cause them to give a little gasp, gather themselves, and plunge forward, some - Ruthie and Mochie - more eager than others - Toby. Toby especially doesn’t like to walk on wet grass. Rocks, gravel, asphalt or streams are okay but not wet lawns.

Out the door we burst, a collection of legs, leashes, wet noses, and more. We lucked out, as the rain was relatively light, falling in a steady stream. It wasn’t the deluge I had expected and was grateful. The reality proved anti-climactic to my fears. The time outside was almost enjoyable, being neither too windy nor wet. But none of us lingered and we were soon inside getting toweled down and breaking our fasts.

We learned that places near us had received more than two inches and the forecast was continuing showers. The weather was not expected to improve so we decided to proceed with our morning outing of visiting the library and grocery shopping. I don’t know if the cause was the time of day or the weather, but there were few people on the road or in town. It’s funny how the lack of crowds can improve unpleasant or routine tasks. Rhetorical question: Can small villages and towns ever be considered crowded when the population for the entire county is less than 55,000 people?

We finished everything and noticed that the rain was letting up as we neared home, surprising us both. Unbelievably, a tear appeared in the clouds and a line of blue sky winked at us. We hurriedly put groceries away and took the dogs out, taking advantage of the moment of calm. Back inside we had the idea to explore the creeks before the rain machine revved up again.

We have two creeks. One flows through our valley collecting and moving the water from everybody’s property. We call this one the Big Creek though it is actually quite small and is more brook than creek. The other, called by us the Runoff Creek, is in a fold that drains a hillside and bisects our property as it rushes to join the Big Creek. This little creek is lined by old trees and a long but narrow meadow which itself is bordered by a line of trees. We call this area the Horse Run, after its previous occupant. The grass is kept mowed and it now looks like a park. It has become one of our favorite areas to visit, ideal for walking and exploring.

The Runoff Creek is easily observed where it passes under the road. The creek is normally a gentle rush of water moving artfully over and between nature-laid rocks. As our first stop, it was easy to see the color of the water, an opaque milk-stirred-in-coffee color. This always happens when the hillsides have become saturated, reaching their water-holding capacity and are shedding excess water. Pulled by gravity, the extra water races down the inclines, gathering soil, leaves, and any detritus that can be dislodged by the rains. During intense storms like Saturday’s, the water in the creek bed is a torrent of force driving to somewhere, approximating the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. We marveled at it.

When we first moved here there was a washout of gravel where the Runoff joined the Big Creek. Lower than the shallow banks, this broad layering of gravel made an easy entry to the Big Creek. The Runoff had pushed a line of gravel and stones across the Big Creek at this point, making for easy and fun crossings to gain the far hillside. We had no idea the Runoff Creek was a fickle and changeable creature until a thunderstorm two years ago. So much water was released in a 30-minute period that the little creek sculpted its delta anew. New rocks and gravel bars were birthed and our little creek was becoming unrecognizable.

This past June, a storm of great magnitude made all of the earlier changes seem like child’s play. Parked over us for two days, the deluge of water reworked the landscape. A great mass of gravel, rocks, and stone were deposited in the little delta, filling the old bed higher than its banks. The power of the water surge in the Big Creek removed all of our crossing stones and replaced them with a large pool of deep water. New banks were carved. Beaches were annihilated, moved, and reformed in new and unexpected areas. Old channels were straightened and new passages formed. The reworking of the landscape still amazes us.

The vigor of this Saturday’s storm energized the Runoff Creek. It was busily eating away at the piles of rock before it, moving and cutting through them and sluicing its way to the Big Creek. The rush of water is exciting and can be loud. By listening carefully, low notes can be heard under the noise, revealing the subsurface moving of stones. As in the past, we will explore the new beds when the water recedes, noting the changes, hunting for fossils, and discovering oddball rocks that can be uncommonly beautiful.

The spring-like rains continued for most of the day, a mix of showers and drizzle. After the early torrents, the calm was welcome. This gave us a chance to regroup and take stock before tomorrow’s wintry mix.