Earth Day dawned sunny and bright -- the nicest day of the year so far, I think... relatively warm, not terribly windy. Of course, the nice weather brought the first ticks of the season, as well. With the good, comes the nasty.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Friday, April 5, 2013
My Seasonal Update
I haven't been motivated to blog lately... but that doesn't mean I haven't been making notes about the appearance (or lack thereof) of spring... and sometimes composing poetic paragraphs in my head that never make it onto paper (keyboard). Finally, however, I feel the need to have a record of data that I can look back on.
Winter may have started weak this year, but it ended strong. There was a weak in early March when the ground was covered with a foot of snow -- we had 2 largish late-winter snowfalls -- and everyone was walking around talking about how last year on this day it was 80 degrees. None of that in 2013. Spring is arriving reluctantly. I can only hope that means when it comes, it will park itself firmly, not let winter creep back in!
Yesterday was ice off... the latest ice off in the past 7 years at least. Here's the data I've kept, indicating that we're over a month past last year's date, weeks later than average... and indeed, it's the only April ice off date I've seen!
Winter may have started weak this year, but it ended strong. There was a weak in early March when the ground was covered with a foot of snow -- we had 2 largish late-winter snowfalls -- and everyone was walking around talking about how last year on this day it was 80 degrees. None of that in 2013. Spring is arriving reluctantly. I can only hope that means when it comes, it will park itself firmly, not let winter creep back in!
Yesterday was ice off... the latest ice off in the past 7 years at least. Here's the data I've kept, indicating that we're over a month past last year's date, weeks later than average... and indeed, it's the only April ice off date I've seen!
2006 -- Mar 10
2007 -- Mar 18
2008 -- Mar 31
2009 -- Mar 9
2010 -- Mar 18
2011 -- Mar 18
2012 -- Feb 22!
2013 -- April 4!
Meanwhile, plants are similarly slow compared to last year. In 2012, spring ephemerals flowered in March -- we had violets and Pasqueflower, bloodroot and others... This year... not a lot. Crocuses are in full bloom, daffodil and tulip leaves are out with frost-burned tips, but they're not that tall yet. There's no green haze across the water as willows get that springy green... even the catkins have been slow to swell. (Vernal witch hazel is in bloom, and silver maples have flowered... that's about it that I've noticed, plant-wise.) Redwing black birds are about the only thing that kept to the normal spring schedule this year.
Yesterday, I saw a cluster of ants surrounding something on the sidewalk, and last weekend when we went for a walk, some gnatty things were flying around my head, so I guess the insect workld is starting to come back to life, too.
OK, back to work!
Friday, December 21, 2012
Happy Winter!
Winter Solstice... the ray of hope in our darkest days. In science, as in life, it may be that as we stand on the precipice, looking at the beginning of months of hardship and trial, things start to get just a little bit brighter. Winter truly is a season of scarcity and challenges for animals that don't have the human luxuries of central heating and grocery store food. Plants still face months of dormancy before they will green with new life, so food sources are severely limited... caches painstakingly collected and stored in the fall, a few leftover seeds, bark and twigs. The succulent newness of leafy greens is so far away it's hardly imaginable, even to me. And this at the time when the body most needs energy to heat itself. It would be a bleak outlook, I think, if animals had the capacity to look forward into the future.
And yet... after months of our days growing oppressively short, they will... almost imperceptibly at first... start to lengthen. Today is the winter solstice, when the earth's tilt causes the sun to hit (at 5:12 am local time) its southern-most angle of shine upon the earth's surface. For the next 6 months, as we travel around the sun on our topsy-turvy cosmic journey, we northern-hemisphere-dwellers will get the sun's light more and more directly each day. Eventually the sun's rays will shine upon us directly enough to start to warm the earth's surface. And so the first calendar day of winter is also the day it begins to recede, to gradually lose its fight. Our glimmer of light just as the hard times begin.
And winter this year tried to start with a show of seasonal power. Now, I don't want to minimize the first winter storm of the year for those around the Midwest who were involved in traffic accidents or travel delays or whatever, but... for us, it was kind of a bust. It began with rain... steady, drumming rain that kept me awake Wednesday night and into the small hours of Thursday morning, and continued to fall all day Thursday. The world was wet and puddly and dreary and drippy... and relatively warm, hitting the mid-40s. The forecasters' predicted snowfall decreased as the hour of temperature drop drew near... but we still didn't even hit the large 2-6 inch target that meteorologists left open for us. Around 4 pm Thursday the rain turned to sleet and wet heavy snow, which did mess with rush hour but didn't last very long into the night. I went to bed with my driveway's blacktop still showing and I awoke to the same sight.
That's not to say that winter didn't dawn with a fierce bite. Piercing winds whip across the prairies and fields. I look out, through wildly shaking locust branches, at a wind turbine whose motion is so fast it looks like a blurry circle. The small amount of snow that fell has frozen solid, a crunchy crust covering cars and pavement, trees and grasses. Now that the sun has finally risen on this shortest day of the year, the frozen drops on the tree branches catch the light and sparkle. Diamonds all over are spectacular holiday decorations. Plus, it's cold -- in the mid 20s but those winds from the north make it feel much colder.
And this... is just the beginning! Happy first day of winter!
And yet... after months of our days growing oppressively short, they will... almost imperceptibly at first... start to lengthen. Today is the winter solstice, when the earth's tilt causes the sun to hit (at 5:12 am local time) its southern-most angle of shine upon the earth's surface. For the next 6 months, as we travel around the sun on our topsy-turvy cosmic journey, we northern-hemisphere-dwellers will get the sun's light more and more directly each day. Eventually the sun's rays will shine upon us directly enough to start to warm the earth's surface. And so the first calendar day of winter is also the day it begins to recede, to gradually lose its fight. Our glimmer of light just as the hard times begin.
And winter this year tried to start with a show of seasonal power. Now, I don't want to minimize the first winter storm of the year for those around the Midwest who were involved in traffic accidents or travel delays or whatever, but... for us, it was kind of a bust. It began with rain... steady, drumming rain that kept me awake Wednesday night and into the small hours of Thursday morning, and continued to fall all day Thursday. The world was wet and puddly and dreary and drippy... and relatively warm, hitting the mid-40s. The forecasters' predicted snowfall decreased as the hour of temperature drop drew near... but we still didn't even hit the large 2-6 inch target that meteorologists left open for us. Around 4 pm Thursday the rain turned to sleet and wet heavy snow, which did mess with rush hour but didn't last very long into the night. I went to bed with my driveway's blacktop still showing and I awoke to the same sight.
That's not to say that winter didn't dawn with a fierce bite. Piercing winds whip across the prairies and fields. I look out, through wildly shaking locust branches, at a wind turbine whose motion is so fast it looks like a blurry circle. The small amount of snow that fell has frozen solid, a crunchy crust covering cars and pavement, trees and grasses. Now that the sun has finally risen on this shortest day of the year, the frozen drops on the tree branches catch the light and sparkle. Diamonds all over are spectacular holiday decorations. Plus, it's cold -- in the mid 20s but those winds from the north make it feel much colder.
And this... is just the beginning! Happy first day of winter!
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
...Falling on my Head
It is snowing....
Doesn't mean any will stick, but still... Maybe we will have a winter after all!
Doesn't mean any will stick, but still... Maybe we will have a winter after all!
Friday, December 14, 2012
Morning Observations
This morning dawned beautifully...
A thin layer of ice covers the lake this morning, fractal spirals and triangular crystals covering the delicate surface. The early morning light, almost horizontal, highlights the patterns. It casts long shadows and pale pastel reflections of the aspen trees across the flat expanse. Upside down, blurry and elongated, it's an impressionist version of reality painted upon a canvas of ice. The colors almost glow -- a mirror image of the salmon of the rising sun and the blue of the clear sky, the white of the tree-trunks and the beige of the prairie.
With their swimming-grounds hardened, the lake's surface is free of ducks and geese, but there are smaller birds all around. A flock of sparrows congregate in the button bush, taking refuge among its protective net of branches and twigs. They chatter to each other, creating an almost-constant background of warbles and cheeps as I approach. A few chickadees fly past, and some larger passerine birds, unidentifiable in the distance, perch in the highest branches of the aspens across the water. There is plenty of life even in the still of the season of dormancy, death and sleep.
Frost crystals color the grass and the dried prairie plants white... although half-way through December, we've yet to see any actual snow. The early morning air is crisp in my lungs... It almost burns with cold as I inhale deeply, but already I can feel the warmth of the sun's rays on my face and the promise of another unseasonably warm day. We've already made a snow-drought record this year... I wonder when (if?) we'll get a snowcover...
A thin layer of ice covers the lake this morning, fractal spirals and triangular crystals covering the delicate surface. The early morning light, almost horizontal, highlights the patterns. It casts long shadows and pale pastel reflections of the aspen trees across the flat expanse. Upside down, blurry and elongated, it's an impressionist version of reality painted upon a canvas of ice. The colors almost glow -- a mirror image of the salmon of the rising sun and the blue of the clear sky, the white of the tree-trunks and the beige of the prairie.
With their swimming-grounds hardened, the lake's surface is free of ducks and geese, but there are smaller birds all around. A flock of sparrows congregate in the button bush, taking refuge among its protective net of branches and twigs. They chatter to each other, creating an almost-constant background of warbles and cheeps as I approach. A few chickadees fly past, and some larger passerine birds, unidentifiable in the distance, perch in the highest branches of the aspens across the water. There is plenty of life even in the still of the season of dormancy, death and sleep.
Frost crystals color the grass and the dried prairie plants white... although half-way through December, we've yet to see any actual snow. The early morning air is crisp in my lungs... It almost burns with cold as I inhale deeply, but already I can feel the warmth of the sun's rays on my face and the promise of another unseasonably warm day. We've already made a snow-drought record this year... I wonder when (if?) we'll get a snowcover...
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Oh, What a Night!
I know, I never write any more. It shouldn't be a chore, I figure, and when it seems as such, I may as well just not. But tonight I am inspired... I probably have no readers left, but I'll write for myself nonetheless.
I went for what I call a chasing-the-light run this afternoon. During the shortest days of the year, if I want to run at all, I have to go right from work, as soon as I can get out so that I can get back before dark. These runs usually end up being brief and speedy... I'm chasing both the light AND the warmth.
Today, I ran out into the Oak Openings preserve across the street. It was, to say the least, crisp -- the air temperature only in the 20's and the ponds covered with a delicate layer of ice. To my left, the trail runs parallel to a stream corridor lined with spreading bur oak trees. To my right was prairie, some patches recently burned, the rest in the shades of brown and gray that characterize the late fall landscape. Ahead of me, I looked across the stubble of a dormant corn field, with the Ranney's rambling white farm house on the far end and a copse of trees behind that.
As the sun set behind me (run, Naomi, chase the light!) a full moon rose in front of me, completing the picturesque scene of Mid-west farm in November. It shyly slipped behind hazy clouds, obstructing its face, and then peeked out, large and butter-yellow on the horizon.
I saw movement in the field ahead of me, and focused my gaze on a herd of deer the exact color of the dead grasses. One flicked its white tail in warning, but they didn't run away. They stood and stared at me as I ran by, not 30 feet away.
I got back as the sky turned that shade that Crayola calls midnight blue, just in the nick of time. It was one of those moments... right place, right time, lucky to be there... (I should remember that when I don't want to run in the cold.)
I went for what I call a chasing-the-light run this afternoon. During the shortest days of the year, if I want to run at all, I have to go right from work, as soon as I can get out so that I can get back before dark. These runs usually end up being brief and speedy... I'm chasing both the light AND the warmth.
Today, I ran out into the Oak Openings preserve across the street. It was, to say the least, crisp -- the air temperature only in the 20's and the ponds covered with a delicate layer of ice. To my left, the trail runs parallel to a stream corridor lined with spreading bur oak trees. To my right was prairie, some patches recently burned, the rest in the shades of brown and gray that characterize the late fall landscape. Ahead of me, I looked across the stubble of a dormant corn field, with the Ranney's rambling white farm house on the far end and a copse of trees behind that.
As the sun set behind me (run, Naomi, chase the light!) a full moon rose in front of me, completing the picturesque scene of Mid-west farm in November. It shyly slipped behind hazy clouds, obstructing its face, and then peeked out, large and butter-yellow on the horizon.
I saw movement in the field ahead of me, and focused my gaze on a herd of deer the exact color of the dead grasses. One flicked its white tail in warning, but they didn't run away. They stood and stared at me as I ran by, not 30 feet away.
I got back as the sky turned that shade that Crayola calls midnight blue, just in the nick of time. It was one of those moments... right place, right time, lucky to be there... (I should remember that when I don't want to run in the cold.)
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Already Nipping?
This morning, we had our first patchy frost. It covered the rooftops, but I only saw it in a few places on the grass. It seems that the garden plants, at least in my garden, were spared... there will be basil and tomatoes for another day!
The frost followed a pretty crazy day of temperature fluctuations. Monday it got up to 80 degrees, and then a storm came briefly through and the temperatures dropped like a lead balloon. Tuesday's predicted high was around 65, but I don't think it even approached that. I was cold all day with a sweater on, for the first time since... at least May. Then last night, the low was a record-breaking 35 degrees F... followed by a lovely, mild (but windy), 70 degree daytime.
Winter coats and gloves at breakfast, shirt sleeves at lunch! How do we prepare for that?
The frost followed a pretty crazy day of temperature fluctuations. Monday it got up to 80 degrees, and then a storm came briefly through and the temperatures dropped like a lead balloon. Tuesday's predicted high was around 65, but I don't think it even approached that. I was cold all day with a sweater on, for the first time since... at least May. Then last night, the low was a record-breaking 35 degrees F... followed by a lovely, mild (but windy), 70 degree daytime.
Winter coats and gloves at breakfast, shirt sleeves at lunch! How do we prepare for that?
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