We had so many chimeric forecasts this year, which promised an 80% chance or greater of precipitation, that I did not move my car outside the gate on Tuesday. Wednesday I woke up to 4" of snow on the car, and an urgent need to mail bills at the post office. Now that it is too late, the car is outside.
Snow still lays on the ground, so it protected plants when temperatures fell to 6 degrees F on Thursday. Anything that was going to be killed by cold probably expired in December when morning temperatures got as low as 1 degree F with bare ground.
Since Thursday, snow has been melting off the roof, either from the sun hitting the metal or heat escaping the house. On the south side of the house, it drips in the day and icicles form on the Dr. Huey roses in the night. On the north side, the snow glaciers slide off the edge where icicles form in front of the eaves troughs. The water falls on tiles, which then feed water slowly to the lily bulbs and daylilies below.
On the west side of the garage, snow simply melts into a shallow trough that previous moisture has formed, and freezes in the night. The tulip and lily bulbs are near, but not in the trench. On the east side, the water disappears into needle grasses and leaves no trace.
Last snow: 1/27. Week’s low: 6 degrees F. Week’s high: 56 degrees F in the shade. Relative humidity has been reasonable with snow on the ground. Winds were up to 32 mph in Santa Fé.
What’s green in the area: One-seeded and cultivated junipers, although some low-growing varieties, like yew, have turned blue gray. The piñon has blue tips, while many of the arborvitae and Japanese boxwood have turned brown. Pines and other evergreens are still green, as are some Japanese honeysuckles and all the cultivated yuccas. No grasses; those that stay green in winter do not survive our summers.
What’s green in my yard: One-seeded juniper and cultivated yuccas; leaves on blue flax and sweet peas. Saw some green in needle grass that gets afternoon sun.
Animal sightings: The rabbit and I play a game. I put a stone in the hollow under my gate, and it moves it to get in. When the stone gets moved, I know it is around, even if I do not see any other evidence. I have not seen any tracks in the snow.
Tasks: When I take the trash out on Mondays, I also pick up tumble weeds from the drive and drop them across the road a little to the north of my driveway entrance. The winds in December broke loose large Russian thistles that gathered at my fence. It was too cold to do anything with so many, and I knew the winds would bring them back. This week, I took out a large box and dumped them in it, stomping them down to fit. Next week, the box goes in the trash.
It is tricky to find a time to work outside: the temperature has to be above 50, but whenever the air warms the winds begin. I have only been out a few times since November, and now have to wait a few days for the snow to melt and dead matter to dry. It is difficult to cut stems and leaves that are wet from the outside.
The Maximilian sunflowers have taken over the path on the east side of the house. They not only grow as close as possible to the concrete blocks, but they fall over when their seeds get heavy in summer. On Monday, I started cutting stems near the path, but left the ones in the center that I want to encourage. I am also leaving all the debris on the ground to mulch them. The stalks can be seven or eight feet long. If they are thick I break them with my foot, so the pieces will fit into a small trash bag. When the stems are a bit thinner, I break them over my knee, and smaller still I use my hands. Course, my skin gets roughened and pierced.
I also have been cleaning grasses along my driveway. Because it is still cold, I only cut the dead tops off the needle grass. However, because I care less about the June grass, I am raking out all the dead matter with a trowel. I have discovered the grasses are growing best where stones from the driveway have been pushed away by the tires of my car.
The summary review of the past year that is involved coincides with finalizing the list of plants and seeds I plan to order or buy locally. I mailed the orders on Tuesday.
Now that that is done, I am going back through the notes for 2021 and transferring information to another document that has details by locations in the area. At the same time, I an updating the data base with bloom dates and location notes for everything in my yard and in the area.
It is the one chance to think about what happened in the past twelve months. At the time, I tend to be too involved with the current moment in the summer to see trends. With the pandemic, I changed by habits: instead of going into town several times a week, I go only on Tuesdays to get mail and buy groceries on the day the store that enforces mask rules offers a discount for seniors. Thus, I have fewer notes per week, and do not know yet if the summer heat made a difference. The document of notes has plants listed alphabetically, and apples, apricots, and catalpas all bloom regardless of neglect. So far, I’m up to the columbines.
The last step is transferring the location information to master files that have histories of changes in vegetation. This is when I usually see the cumulative effects of changes in the area, whether climatic or economic.
Once the files for 2022 have been made and seeds ordered, there is no pressure to complete the rest. I spend the time between supper and the time I do my evening exercise to this almost mindless task of data entry.
Sometimes, I wonder why I still bother. It has been a while since I looked at bloom history. When I began, there were patterns, but as I have entered more years’ data, the patterns have become less clear. I think the reason I persist is that it is a form of intellectual contact with nature that is missing in winter when the cold does little more than destroy.
Notes on photographs:
Photographs taken 27 January 2022.