Posts Tagged ‘weather’
Not Obvious
It’s not obvious by this morning’s sunny conditions that we are in store for what threatens to be the largest snowfall of the previous winter season. All hail the impressive technology and communication from the world’s meteorological services.
We received a most genteel of precursor snowfalls overnight Thursday.
No plowing required. Even though some surfaces were warm enough to melt the snow almost as fast as it fell, the remaining flakes were light and fluffy.
The predictions for tomorrow’s snow claim the consistency will be more like wet cement. Oh, joy. Especially because they are also tossing out threats of snow amounts measured in feet, not inches.
If that plays out as described, our tree limbs are in great jeopardy. With luck, our location will receive a lesser amount of the predicted ranges.
There is a hitch in this long-duration storm we are being warned about in that it may change to rain for a while. That will diminish the accumulating snow totals, for sure. This is one of the rare times when I will be pleased if we get rain instead of snow.
The paddocks are a little too dry in general lately, which makes for pleasant footing today, but I need to make myself grateful for the mud this weather will likely bring. The moisture will be a blessing for growing things.
On my way back to the house on this brilliantly calm morning after feeding horses, I could hear a chorus of cracking and popping sounds coming from the trees.
I paused to observe one of my new fascinations since living here.
Pine cones were opening up in the warm rays of the sun. As I stood watching, I discovered I was hearing a combination of some residual snow and ice melting along with the popping pine cones.
For the first time since I became aware of the wonders of this amazing process, I was looking directly at one of the cones as a scale popped open.
I don’t imagine the trees have any awareness of the fate that will arrive tomorrow and last for a couple of days. I wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for the warnings of our weather services.
Today looks to be a beautiful sunny calm before the storm. It is not obvious that tomorrow will bring a big change.
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Changing Skies
It’s been a wild few days of changing skies around here lately. That is rather typical of the kind of weather March would usually bring.
The flakes that fell yesterday were HUGE! The difference from March storms of old is that it stopped snowing before burying us in barely a half of an inch.
At least the wind had stopped blowing. The calm was wonderful.
Only one additional tree toppled over to a 45-degree angle overnight. Maybe an 8 to 10-inch diameter trunk. A scattering of large branches came down, too. When Cyndie returns at the end of the week, I will be able to crank up the chainsaw to do some cleanup lumberjacking on trail seven. [grunt, grunt]
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Tricky Footing
As demonstrated by my antics a few days ago when I tried to plant my feet to slow my momentum on the way down the backyard hill with Asher, the ground this time of year does not offer dependable footing. With the extreme swings of temperature we’ve been experiencing, the dirt and turf freeze solid overnight. That alone makes for a rather annoying walking surface that is uneven and unforgiving.
It only worsens as the day progresses and the sun thaws the uppermost layer.
The melting turns the first centimeter into a greasy slurry that then rides atop the hard, frozen layers below. It becomes a diabolically unreliable footing to hike on.
I’d rather walk on the almost-as-unreliable scree on the slope of a mountain.
Part of the problem is that you can’t see that it will be slippery. It’s like being gaslighted. Perception and reality don’t align.
In areas where there is no grass, like around my piles of composting manure, I ran into a different challenge. The black dirt looks solid enough, but I am well aware it will be slippery so I step carefully. My boots didn’t sink in, so things seemed tolerable. However, it got messy real fast when I picked up a foot and discovered that the thawed top 1 centimeter was staying attached to the soles of my boots.
In the good old days, we only dealt with these conditions briefly in the transition from winter to spring. This year it’s been happening throughout the entire winter. I keep hearing Paul Simon in my head singing, “Slip sliding away…”
March is not coming in like a lion. If the folklore holds, does this portend storms at month’s end?
When it comes to weather possibilities in this day and age, I don’t know what to believe anymore.
At the very least, I’d like to believe the tricky footing will be behind us sooner rather than later.
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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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Too Short
That all-too-brief taste of winter last week has left me wanting. It certainly isn’t all about me and what I want, but another 50°F day in February kind of made me sad yesterday, even as I luxuriated in an easy stroll down the driveway with the trash and recycle bins without wearing a coat.
I’m well aware of the break this offers to people who drive a lot or struggle to cope with cold and snow. I don’t begrudge the pleasure they must be feeling about the minimalist version of winter we are experiencing.
Scenes like these lasted too short for me…
I suppose if I would just pull out my bicycle and take advantage of the dry roads I might get over my mopey attitude.
I don’t know why, but I’m finding my mindset of longing for a more wintery winter is a difficult one to shift.
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It Snowed!
Around the time we headed out to feed the horses in the late afternoon yesterday, it was beginning to drizzle. By the time we finished, the precipitation was changing over to sleet. After our dinner, snow was beginning to collect on the ground.
When Cyndie took Asher outside for one last pee, she said the snow was pelting them and it was very sticky underfoot.
I turned on the barn camera to check the view:
Those flakes were falling straight down.
A couple of hours later, the snow was floating around a little more:
At bedtime last night, there was already about an inch piling up on the deck railings. From the way the radar looked at that time, I’m expecting we will have received the upper end of the predicted 3 to 4 inches by this morning.
It was even snowing up in Hayward, where we will be this weekend. Another week after that, the annual American Birkebeiner ski race will happen. It has been significantly modified in length and route due to the snowless winter.
It’s not like a real winter but with any instances of accumulating snowfall, it sort of rhymes with winter for a short time.
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Birdbrain Decision
You’d probably think my preeminent focus on LOVE above all other distractions in life would make February 14th a special day for me. Uh-uh. I generally refer to it in jibes at the marketing of it and other holidays aimed at coercing of consumers to spend their hard-earned sums of money on barely affordable things.
Still, I’m not above throwing out a “Be Mine” to sweethearts or favorite desserts every so often.
Maybe it’s hard for me because I love you all. That’s more cards, chocolates, and flowers than I can manage.
Today, I’m here to report the National Weather Service has issued a Winter Weather Advisory that includes our county and mentions SNOW ACCUMULATION! of 3 to 4 inches overnight tonight. I will not be holding my breath in anticipation, but if it falls and if it accumulates, that would be a welcome change, to say the least.
In preparation, I raked up some of the piles of leaves that had blown around outside the barn and ended up in places I shovel and plow after snowfalls. I hope that didn’t jinx the possibility of us getting a fresh white blanket over our landscape.
I also raked leaves so I could boast that I did so in the month of February. That is a first in my lifetime.
Is that a birdbrain decision? I don’t think so. That’s certainly not why I chose the title for today’s post. No, that comes from the behavior we observe of the pigeons that have chosen our barn overhang as their favorite place to be.
We are not fans. Their flapping and noisy footsteps on the metal roof, incessant cooing, and way too much excrement (on the horse’s placemats of all places!) put barn pigeons on our list of annoyances begrudgingly tolerated.
Recently, we have seen an increase in activity that has me thinking they may not be growing in number as much as I suspected. Their egg-laying decisions don’t seem all that compatible with procreation.
Maybe if it snows they will find the landing a little more forgiving but underfoot where horses are active seems to qualify for what people have come to mean by the term “birdbrain.”
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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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Glazed Asphalt
The smooth black surface of our driveway is great for melting snow that remains after plowing. It’s not so great when moisture condenses overnight and freezes. We need to get a sign that warns, “Slippery When Glazed!”
Luckily, the warmth visiting our region as the day progressed made that glaze disappear entirely. We lost more snow on Sunday than yesterday but the trend is obvious and feeds itself. Each day we get above freezing will advance the evaporation to greater degrees (pun intended).
On a day over the previous weekend when the clouds weren’t as opaque, I captured this view directly overhead:
A cloud gazers delight. Do you see the dolphin? I’m intrigued by the contrast of shadowed clouds compared to the ones glowing bright white. I wonder what it looked like from the window of an airplane flying close to the same elevation.
Not much sky watching happening when walking on our driveway in the morning hours. Waddling along like penguins are we.
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Relative Something 