Posts Tagged ‘warm winter’
Making Do
This is not the first time I have been “making do,” in my quest to survive all that life tosses in front of me. I used the same post title six years ago when Cyndie and I traveled with Mike and Barb to visit Cyndie’s parents in Florida at a similar time of year.
This time, I am managing things alone at home while Cyndie is visiting the Sunshine State. I am squeaking by on whatever meager rations she left behind. For example, how about toast out of her homemade cranberry walnut bread with my favorite crunchy peanut butter?
Gives me just enough strength to walk Asher to his heart’s delight and keep the horses from total neglect. They are making do with the snowless conditions and warm sunshine of late.
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There is no snow left in the fields as clear skies and record-high temperatures continue to be our norm.
I can poke fun at my comforts by overstating the truth but the relative luxury I am graced with does not come without a dose of guilt in the face of those dealing with war, poverty, famine, and climate catastrophes and truly suffering to get by.
I do not take my good fortune for granted, so I share the wonder of it all with hopes it might balance the harsh realities others are experiencing and whisk them away for a moment to a better place that does still exist in other places of the world.
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Freaky Swing
We are living it. Is there some way to fully comprehend ‘crazy’ when we are smack dab in the middle of it? The weather drama of well-predicted impacts from a warmer climate keeps playing out right before our very eyes.
I recently watched two movies about real events that happened in my lifetime. The first was a documentary about the disastrous last flight of the space shuttle Challenger and the second was an actor-depicted retelling of the GameStop stock adventures that happened during the pandemic.
When I see these kinds of movies, I struggle to recapture my perceptions of the events at the time they were playing out. It all comes up rather blurry in my mind compared to the clear and orderly hindsight offered in such films.
If someone eventually makes a movie in the future depicting all the series of weird weather, fires, flooding, and souped-up storms we have been experiencing, will it come across as more explicitly obvious than how we perceive it now? It should.
I suspect it will make us all look bad for how slow or ultimately ineffective we were in reducing carbon emissions.
On Tuesday, it warmed to 53°F by afternoon, and then clouds rolled in bringing snow, gale-force winds, and a drop in temperature to a mere 4°F by yesterday morning.
The average high for the Twin Cities is 35 for the coming weekend. We are expecting temperatures in the 50s and 60s. What a whiplash.
The horses didn’t seem overly ruffled by the extreme temperature swing overnight Tuesday. By the time Asher and I showed up at the barn in the morning yesterday, the wild winds that made eerie sounds all night long had calmed significantly.
The surface of the driveway had a wicked glaze over it. The truck delivering bags of feed almost didn’t make the corner when turning into our driveway. Luckily, she stopped before sliding all the way off the pavement.
By noon, the bright sunshine had cleared off most of the asphalt surface.
Today is the occasion of Leap Day. February has been so unusual weather-wise, the ‘every-4-years’ addition of one day hardly seems worth mentioning.
Not that I’d notice it happened if you showed me a movie about it three years from now.
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Crash Landing
The high temperature yesterday was another record for February, climbing into the 60s(F) in the afternoon. It is so disorienting. Stepping out to walk Asher without wearing a coat on the way to feed the horses felt so bizarre. It’s still winter here.
In fact, the forecast is showing a quick change is due, with a 70% chance of snow tonight and temperatures in the single digits by tomorrow morning. A day or two after that, the prediction is for a return to near 60° again. I’ve seen the word “rollercoaster” used several times to describe this week’s weather.
The warmth added a spring to Asher’s step as we ventured down the hill of the backyard. I often try to trot along behind him so he can exercise his legs with more than just walking. Occasionally, he gets me running a little faster than my breathing can support and I end up anchoring his fun down a notch.
That routine did not play out so well yesterday due to a combination of factors, the most significant of which was the soft and slippery footing of the thawing ground.
Asher was perked up by the summery warmth and picked up speed down the yard’s slope. I tried to keep up with him but things quickly turned problematic. He was beginning to outrun me and by the time it was too late, I discovered I didn’t have the footing to counteract his increasing velocity. Putting it simply, my brakes were out.
Since he felt no resistance, Asher just kept gaining speed which triggered a series of “No… No… No, no, no!” cries from me as I stomped and slipped along toward my unavoidable fate. I knew I was going down and in those fractions of seconds was trying to have some say in how it would play out, but the footing just wasn’t there and I couldn’t get any control.
It was a pretty spectacular fail. Landing with so much unhindered momentum drove me into the ground hard, grinding up the wet black dirt into my belt and the pockets on the left side of my pants. I smashed my glasses against the ground and wrenched my shoulder as it took the bulk of the initial impact.
Two things probably saved me from more serious injury than just the sore shoulder that resulted: I landed on the shoulder with a permanent type III separation (old flag football injury) and the ground was thawed enough to be rather forgiving.
The clavicle on my left shoulder floats free of the scapula. The lack of a hard connection between the two meant the impact didn’t all go into my collarbone. Instead, I think the worst of the blow dissipated throughout soft tissue. If the ground had been frozen, I might have landed much harder. Of course, if the ground was frozen, I could have planted my feet to stop the momentum.
Today it feels similar to having had a vaccination shot in that arm. That’s nothing that will put me out of action, which is a good thing because Cyndie just left yesterday to visit her mom in Florida for 10 days.
I suppose I should be a little more cautious than usual until she returns.
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Cracking Cones
With spring-like weather showing up way too soon, we have changes going on that are very un-February-like.
The moisture of the melting snow rises in the morning to create a mystical haze in front of the pines in the distance.
The remains of the melting plowed snow on the edge of the driveway are smeared with the dirt that got scraped up by the blade.
Most uncharacteristic of February is the clicking sounds of pine cones popping open in the warm sunshine.
My poor brain is wrestling over reveling in the luxury of the gentle weather at the same time as fretting over the complications this odd warmth could bring about.
In the moments between mental wrangling, the craziness offers plenty of opportunities for me to busy myself taking pictures of scenes that catch my eye.
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Snowmobile Trail
Yesterday afternoon, with the air temperature climbing above 50°F in February, this is what the snowmobile trail looks like where it crosses the road at the southeast corner of our property:
Not much sleddin’ happening this year.
Could be worse. At least we aren’t being subject to an atmospheric river of heavy rain, wind, and mudslides like the people of California are currently enduring.
For now, if suffering a lack of snow and cold during winter is the worst of climate change we experience, we have it better than a lot of other folks around the world. Sadly, I fear the lack of winter will trigger ripple effects that can present other challenges for us over time.
I’m concerned that our trees are going to sprout new buds too soon and then be at risk of a cold night killing the new growth. Just because it’s warm now doesn’t guarantee we won’t still experience some cold and snow later this month or next. Heck, we suffered through an 18” snowfall in early May the first year we moved here.
I don’t remember if they usually leave the signs up for the snowmobile trail that late in the year.
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Low Sun
These days the stroll up to the house after feeding the horses is happening when the low angle of the sun is casting long shadows. The leaf shadows look like outlines of science-fiction creatures.
So, I shot ‘em.
With my phone camera.
Then I noticed an even longer shadow creature:
For a second, I imagined I was that tall. It was dizzying.
No skiing, snowshoeing, plowing, shoveling, or igloo building happening around here this winter. Pictures of shadows in low sunlight were my winter entertainment yesterday afternoon.
Weird.
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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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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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Warmed Winter
So, this is what it’s going to be like on a warmer planet then. January at latitude 44°47’04.1″N will offer periods of rain that will convert any snowpack previously existing into a slushy mash that resembles wet cement in many ways. It’s ugly, annoying, problematic, and just plain no fun to deal with.
For all the times I have grumbled about it being too cold or having too much snow fall all at once, I offer my apologies. The wet slop that has become our current reality is what I really mean to be grumbling about. I am NOT looking forward to the possibility of 5-8″ of heavy, wet snow falling on top of the existing mess tonight and tomorrow, which is what the current National Weather Service “weather watch” alert is threatening.
In protest of the lousy “winter” conditions outside yesterday, I decided to spend the afternoon indoors on a frivolous pursuit that celebrates the freedom of retirement by binging a docu-series in the middle of a weekday afternoon.
Cyndie and I finally started watching “Welcome to Wrexham” and have quickly learned more about the country of Wales than I’ve ever known before. Despite this show being a confusing echo to the fictional series, “Ted Lasso,” which we enjoy so much, we are finding it fascinating in a different way because it is a real story.
There are many fans represented thus far in the series who describe how much the football club means to them and to the surrounding community as a whole. Descriptions of being born into a world immersed in the Wrexham football club trigger my memories of the influence on my early life of my parent’s passion for the NFL Minnesota Vikings football team.
The Vikings just lost a game that knocked them out of this season’s playoffs (like so many times before) and local media is already going on about what needs to happen over the off-season to bring success next year. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I, as a fan, had to face the stress of possible relegation out of the NFL if the team finished at the bottom of the standings.
Watching the quality of the documentary “Welcome to Wrexham” has me feeling swiftly connected to the fans, players, and club staff presented on screen. I feel invested in their concerns, making it hard to interrupt the binge-watching for our own lives.
One reason that is quite all right with me is: It had me forgetting about the rotten weather outside for a few hours in the afternoon.
I hope the warming planet is providing Wrexham with pleasant weather for watching football matches at the world’s oldest international football stadium, The Racecourse Ground.
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Relative Something 