Posts Tagged ‘global warming’
Insects Airborne
On January 31st, 2024, the temperature in our area was roughly mid-fifties (F) by mid-afternoon. That was record-breaking for the 150 years people have been keeping track. Our winter is broken.
Coming up from the barn after feeding horses, I came upon a cloud of insects flying in an odd-looking up-and-down loop.
I recorded a short video that you can see on YouTube by clicking on this image:
I’m no Entomologist, but I suspect they may have just recently hatched and this circular exercise is related to them figuring out how their wings work and allowing them to establish their bearings before setting off in the world. It appears they have grasped the concept of which way up is.
In light conversation with staff at the eye clinic, I noticed a common thought that there is a high chance we will end up paying for this in March or April in the form of a massive dump of snow all at once. Sure, this is mighty comfortable now, but nothing good is consequence-free.
I haven’t been having that same feeling. They may well be right but I’m a bit more worried that we might not get any more winter weather and slam right into an accelerated heat up and early spring that will confuse all manner of flora and fauna. I would be happy to be wrong on that.
Happy February, everyone.
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Unusual Winter
Once again, our hero finds himself writing about the weather. I’m sorry, I can’t help myself. Most people on the planet are, by this time, well aware the climate is in transition, so it’s probably not big news that January 29, 2024, was so uncharacteristically warm where I live. However, for me to open the door and hear songbirds singing, see flying insects swarming, and feel the lack of cold air hitting our faces, it makes my head spin. Truly. It’s disorienting.
This is how it looked outside yesterday afternoon:
In January! No snowshoes required. There is a snowmobile club that grooms a trail along the edge of our property. In the fall they drive the trail on ATVs and pound in signs to mark the way. That trail got marked but we never received enough snow to groom and not a single sled has passed by.
The extremity of our warm winter doesn’t grab attention like out-of-control wildfires or destructive flooding that has ravaged other parts of the world but it feels rather alarming to me. Not that being alarmed will have much impact on the rate at which people of the world continue to pump greenhouse gasses into our atmosphere.
I wish I could avoid ever flying in a conventional commercial jet or driving a gas-burning car anymore but that’s not likely to happen. I wish I never bought anything plastic ever again. My lifestyle has yet to shift to perfect environmental stewardship and I don’t foresee a strong enough change in my behavior to solve the dilemma any time soon. I just add a little more personal guilt each time I start the car and roll out of our driveway.
Around these parts, there are a lot of folks who plan on winter income from plowing snow for businesses and homeowners. Store owners sell snow-clearing machines and tools. Companies sell snowmobiles, skis, snowboards, sleds, and skates. Experts will likely tally the numbers and report on the financial hardships faced by all the people who make their living from the winter activities that used to be ubiquitous in the region. My heart goes out to them.
On the flip side of that situation, I will offer no complaints about the lower expense of keeping our house warm, the minimal amount of shoveling and plowing I’ve needed to do thus far, and how easy the conditions have been for the horses.
There remain a few oak trees I was planning to trim but I’m wondering if the thaw makes doing so ill-advised. That’s usually one of my January/February projects. This year, nothing’s usual about our winter.
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Ice Growth
With overnight temperatures hovering close to freezing during this January thaw, we are waking to interesting conditions outside. The most notable surface has been the asphalt driveway. Yesterday, instead of the smooth glaze that occurred the day before, we experienced alien-looking ice formations peppering the pavement. It made walking interesting because some areas were simply wet while others were surprisingly slippery.
As so often happens, capturing the full visual impact of the ice shapes by way of a photograph is a no match for the naked eye but that rarely stops one from trying.
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After just a few hours, the driveway surface changes to just being wet. I’ve read that our winter weather is becoming much more like what happens in places 500-600 miles (800-965 km) south of here. This sure isn’t the winter weather I remember from back when I was a kid.
Above is a view of our place’s appearance on January 25 this year. I don’t like the non-winter-like weather but I am counting our blessings that we have, up to this point, been free of climate-related wildfires or floods. Our growing season is getting longer, we are saving money on heating the house, and I haven’t had to shovel or plow much snow. All good, no? Well, we are always at risk of getting hit with extreme downpours, high winds, hail, and tornados since storms are becoming more intense.
Some strange ice growth on the driveway in the morning is hardly problematic. We find it rather interesting, although it’s hard to do it justice in photos.
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Where’s Winter?
Warmth continues to dominate our weather patterns halfway through December. A headline in the paper this morning boldly reads, “Historic El Niño could be the strongest in 75 years.” Well, I’ll be.
Yesterday morning, I hurried to retrieve the garbage bin in advance of the arrival of the electrician(s) who were going to diagnose my loss of power in the barn.
I hastily parked the bin on the asphalt just beyond the turnoff to the barn and returned to tending to the horses. As minutes dragged on toward an hour of waiting, I returned to the house and took the bin with me, thinking that would result in the electricians showing up.
When that didn’t work, I went back out again and at the spot where I had temporarily left the garbage bin, I spotted something bright green on the ground. Thinking it might be a plastic piece of the bin, I bent down to pick it up. To my surprise, it moved, curling into a circle.
A caterpillar! In December!? Yikes. Me thinks our environment is reflecting the continued warming of the planet. The little guy didn’t even have a wooly coat on. Whatever trees or plants it consumes will be under greater pressure if creatures that feed on them don’t die off over winter. How is the caterpillar not freezing when the temperature drops overnight?
The guys eventually showed up nearly two hours after the expected time and quickly deduced the power is being lost somewhere underground between the shop and the barn. Two clues point toward likely possibilities.
There was a pile of disturbed dirt from a burrowing critter in the barn below the circuit breaker box where the pipe of wires comes out of the ground. There is also a known splice in the wires from 11 years ago when a skid steer cut them during the making of a drive-able thoroughfare around the back of the barn.
With the ground frozen enough to make digging difficult, revealing the status of that splice may need to wait until next spring. The ground inside the barn wasn’t solid like a rock, so I took a crack at digging in there.
I made it down to the bottom of the pipe and quit when there was no evidence of burrowing down that far. The wires are barely visible at the bottom of the hole and appear free of damage.
To help us out until I can dig for the splices, the electricians rearranged circuit breakers so they all connect to the single phase of 120V AC available. Power usage in the barn isn’t high enough to overload one phase and we aren’t currently using 240V for anything so this works for now.
Whatever failed on the one line could just as easily occur on the remaining line so this is something we want to fix even though the temporary solution is providing everything we need for now.
Since winter isn’t delivering its worst this year, maybe I’ll find an opportunity to dig outside sooner rather than later. However, I’m hesitant about making a big digging mess that I wouldn’t be able to clean up until much later and it didn’t sound like the electricians were very interested in repairing the splice during the winter months (hoping that truly is the problem).
Most likely, we’ll wait and see.
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Global Weirding
The warming of planet Earth does not necessarily mean everywhere just gets warmer all the time, but unusual warmth does tend to happen with increasing frequency.
In our region, the middle of November is not usually a time when we would see someone out mowing their grass. On Tuesday, that is exactly what we saw. November is also not a time most of us associate with dandelion blossoms, but that is what’s showing up in our yard.
It was mid-60sF warm around here yesterday and once again mind-bending for the glimpses of spring-like blossoms showing up at the same time that the woods look like the farthest thing possible away from spring.
It all seems just plain weird. It’s gotten hard to remember we’ve already been completely blanketed by snow for a time earlier this month. That’s become a distant memory now.
The weather forecast for next week hints that it won’t continue to be weird with temperatures predicted to drop into the mid-teens(F) over a few nights in a row.
That will feel downright Thanksgiving-ish.
Between periods of weirdness, it makes sense that we experience a little normalcy every once in a while.
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Hot Start
Hello October. Goodbye Twin Cities Marathon. Marathon officials canceled today’s races early this morning because the expected heat and humidity pushed the conditions to the extreme and dangerous “Black-Flag” status. Aye-yai-yai, that’s like living in a time when the warming of our planet is impacting everyday life.
On the way to the barn this morning, I noticed the recent rains we’ve received have invigorated lawn grass growth. I’m so happy to have electric lawnmowers that make end-of-season maintenance a non-issue. Mowing grass in October is not something that used to happen in the past in our region.
We have taken advantage of this late-season warmth by planting grass seeds along the driveway. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
While waiting for the seeds to germinate, I noticed the rain softened the gravel drive loop around the hay shed enough to make pulling weeds easy. It’s an activity the Asher can help with and not be a pest. He even bites and pulls at weeds as he aggressively digs.
It looks great, but progress is slow working by hand. If I was serious about cleaning up the whole loop, I’d be well-served by getting out the diesel tractor and using the back blade.
For now, I’ll put my attention toward mowing. If it rains again soon, I can return to weeding the gravel. It just looks so nice, I can’t help myself.
Here are a couple of other things that look really nice:
Freshly fallen pine needles are carpeting the trail along our north property line.
This morning’s sunrise was illuminating the colorful leaves in the trees around the labyrinth before it was high enough to reach the ground below.
It will be a scenic day to mow.
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Fall Planting
There is a lot of new dirt on our property since the 13 loads were dumped and spread along the edges of the driveway and down the drainage swale across the back pasture. If we let nature take its course, that dirt will be an open invitation for a wide variety of gangly growing weeds common to the area.
One alternative is to plant enough grass to claim the dirt in place of opportunistic weeds. We dawdled for some time during the most recent dry spell, not wanting to put seed down where we can’t reach with hoses to water. Planning ahead, we purchased a 25-gallon tank with a sprayer to water along the majority of the driveway.
The on-and-off rain showers over the weekend have prepared the dirt nicely so we are now ready to go full-speed toward getting seed down. Yesterday, we started in the back pasture
We invited Asher to enter the pasture with us so he could hang around while we worked. It looked like he was doing well in ignoring the piles of manure everywhere, putting his primary focus on running under the shower of grass seeds and straw being spread.
I told Cyndie to watch for grass growing out of the hair on his back in the next few days. Then he came close enough for me to smell that he must have rolled in one of those piles of poop. Silly pooch. He earned himself a rather crude version of a sponge bath before being allowed back in the house.
After lunch, I checked the radar to see if there might be enough of a window of time between rain showers that we could start seeding at the far end of the driveway by the road. With two wheelbarrows, we hauled bags of grass seed, rakes, and a bale of straw down near the mailbox.
Shortly after raking each side of the driveway in preparation for the seed, the dark clouds and rumbles of thunder moving toward us hinted it was going to arrive sooner than I suspected. Fearing the potential for a strong enough downpour to wash new seeds away, we decided to delay seeding for another day and retreated hastily indoors.
We hope to resume planting today. It is tough to know how much time we have left in the growing season with climate warming extending our 80°F days into October and rumors of a strong El Niño lasting at least through January-March 2024.
It will feel better in our minds to have tried to get grass started this fall, even if the percentage of yield is lower than we’d like. It’s a healthy distraction from thinking about embarrassing team losses on the football turf.
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Our Turn
It arrived with a vengeance yesterday. It is our turn to cope with Earth’s new reality of oppressive heat waves. Tropical dew point temperatures push the high heat to feel ten degrees hotter and land us well into three-digit heat index numbers.
As with every weather extreme, the horses just seem to roll with it. We left fans on high under the overhang and they didn’t expend any more effort than necessary all day long.
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Wearing masks to give their eyes a break from the never-ending harassment from flies, they stayed in the shade where the attack of solar energy was ameliorated by a degree or two. Well, except for Mia. When we showed up to serve their evening feeding, she was out grazing in the back pasture all by herself.
Cyndie decided to walk down and offer Mia a pan in the shade which she promptly accepted. It was uncomfortably hot but not intolerable with pockets of cooler air wafting out from under the shade trees on an occasional breeze.
Asher came out with us and pounced into the woods to force squirrels into hasty retreats to the highest branches above. When horses were tended to, Asher was more than happy to return with us to lie on the cool tile floor of our air-conditioned living space.
I took advantage of avoiding outdoor work by giving in to a delicious afternoon nap in the recliner. What a privileged life we live.
I shudder to comprehend how people in places where this kind of heat lasts for months deal with nights that don’t get cool. We went down to the barn just before sunset to close things up, turn off the fans, and remove fly masks but the heat had barely budged from the peak in the afternoon.
Light was sweating, which wasn’t visible when we fed them earlier. The heat of the day was still accumulating.
Our turn dealing with the blast furnace of this over-heating planet will be mercifully short. After today things will moderate a bit and by Saturday the forecast looks almost chilly in comparison.
The horses give me a sense that they understand this and use that superpower to bolster their impressive art of coping when conditions are just plain miserable.
Our retreat to the geothermally cooled house is a less impressive method of coping, but it is oh. so. effective.
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Top Down
With a title like “Top Down,” you might suspect my mind is stuck on the incredible and a little bit crazy escapades of the Tour de France racers making their way down the sides of mountains at ridiculous speeds. I’ll admit, the thought did cross my mind but, no, this choice of words came from the way the tree in front of the house next door is dying.
When we were up here for Memorial Day weekend, the leaves all looked healthy, but Tom told me it was going to die because squirrels (the most likely culprits) had eaten away the bark over winter.
There is no denying the accuracy of his prediction now. I was startled to see how dramatically the demise was represented in the gradual decline of life from the top down.
In circumstances that echo our experience with the maple tree we transplanted to the center of our labyrinth at home, this was the fourth tree that Tom and his dad had tried growing in that spot. This one had finally proved a success but now that achievement has ended up being short-lived.
At least a half-dozen other similar-sized trees on the properties up here suffered the same fate over the winter. I don’t know what drove critters to devour so much tree bark up here last year, but now I want to wrap the trunk of our maple at home before next winter arrives.
It’s such a helpless feeling watching a tree slowly die.
Meanwhile, the number of little oak sprouts that appear on our beach every year (only to get plucked because… it is a beach!) is mind-boggling.
I’d like to volunteer to transplant a handful of those sprouts up to the vicinity of the dying maple of the Whitlock’s and we can see if one takes.
We’ve all been marveling over how unnoticeable it is that so many trees were cut down up here last November. The remaining trees have done well to fill in the gaps that were created by the removal of ailing ones.
If the planet hadn’t just set a new record for the hottest temperature ever recorded, I’d feel a bit more optimistic about the overall health of our forests up at the lake as well as at home.
It certainly has me appreciating what we have at this moment. Here’s to all the trees that are currently healthy from the top down.
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Anecdotal Evidence
Before I launch into today’s thoughts and opinions of *This* John W. Hays, let me just report that the re-installation of a battery in our generator was accomplished without difficulty. It went back in a lot easier than it came out. We are once again prepared for any calamity that might knock out power at home.
Today, however, we are not at home.
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Can you say, “Lake place?” My favoritest of places (away from home)?
Cyndie and I listened to a podcast about brains, neuroplasticity, and autonomic nervous systems on the drive up, making the trip go by in a blink. We stopped in Cumberland for an ice cream treat and met another couple from the Twin Cities heading to their cabin. They pressed hard to sell us (maybe successfully) on attending the annual Rutabaga Festival in August.
The lake place provided some anecdotal evidence of the changing climate. First, the mosquitos have made an early appearance with an intensity that is much more reminiscent of mid-summer. Second, the trillium blossoms that are usually at their glorious best on Memorial weekend look a little past peak already. Having cleared tree branches last November (when we were up here and Cyndie shattered her ankle) there is a new visibility of trillium on the slope below the house.
Third, the poison ivy that could frequently be found on that slope is making visible gains in both directions, toward the lake below and into the mowed areas above. This expansion mirrors what is happening at home. The growing season is a little longer with the warmup in spring happening earlier and the hard freeze in fall happening later. Poison ivy seems to be thriving with these changes.
We left Asher at home this weekend with a sitter who will tend to the horses as well. Before we left, Cyndie wrote a detailed essay on how to care for Asher so the sitter would know exactly what the pup needs and when. Some of them were simple, like bedtime.
An hour and fifty minutes beyond that time last night, Cyndie got a text with a photo of Asher seated nicely beside the sitter by the fire pit out back of the house. I told her that the dog is going to love it when we go away and leave him with the sitter because all those dang rules the parents have get loosened.
Today is work day and we will probably focus on cleaning the beach. I haven’t checked the temperature of the water yet but if it looks so much like summer around here, maybe it will be warm enough for a swim when chores are done.
The evidence is yet to be revealed.
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Relative Something 