The Boy's Winter

I was wakened by the subtle flash and rumble that, not more than a minute later, became the brilliant glare and shattering crash of this year's first post midnight, pre dawn thunderstorm. The rains came, soaking what would normally be earth frozen forty inches, give or take. The birds had been arriving for over a week, vees of geese are seen and heard, while the prehistoric calls of sand hill cranes are heard, all traveling northerly. Comb-playing chorus frogs have made their seasonal debut and chipmunks have ascended from their dens. The grays and pale orange-reds predominating the woods are often punctuated by intense, moisture-activated greens. Most lakes have lost their ice and those that haven't remain only a stormy-green skim coat of icy slush. Most of all, even by last year's early spring standard, the trees have been budding strong and flowering early. The silver maples of the middle slough have been fully in flower for over a week. This is El Nino in the Midwestern north.

It should still be winter by calendar, averages, and tradition and this post should be timely. It is not, however, by fact and experience. Winter is over before its time and this is its eulogy.

Strong winds raked snow and desiccated grasses across the large wetland, leaving easy access for bipeds like myself.

This winter's fluctuating temperatures created a nearly constant stream of runoff from the little wetland which pooled at the northern end of the large wetland. It was a popular watering hole for all the Big Woods' animals.

Freezing and thawing of the pool made for unique ice crystals.

The dead trees of the large wetland, killed by higher water or blight.

Orange lichens on the south side of the trunks.

Wet feet is not a problem for Red Osier Dogwood, Cornus sericea.

Its branches a brilliant red in the sunny open of the wetland.

A protective structure for warm season nesting.

An unknown plant, possible weed, growing in the center of the wetland.

A rare view of the house from the wetland.

The earliest sign of approaching spring -emerging buds of shrub willows.

Rubber and Ice

We exited our station after 1 am, which is highly unusual for us, but this time because we had just come from a free, NYC premier of a movie called Rubber, by a French filmmaker I cannot recall, at the IFC. The visual idea of a tire rolling through the desert landscape was mine, created over ten years ago in the Chihuahua Desert, and completely unknown to this filmmaker. The proof is in a box of Polaroids and on old vhsc cassettes. He took it in the direction of slasher movie and I took it nowhere, but that, my friends, is another story. 

Upon leaving the station I was suddenly quite stunned by the landscape all around me. I do not use the F line much anymore, favoring the more steady and direct B line, so I hadn't seen the landscape transformed by the snow and ice until just then, illuminated by the yellow sodium lights of night.

The spot in springtime

As is usual, and always a mistake, I did not have my camera, because of its ancient bulk and weight, and I regretted it immediately, yet I was also unwilling to return because of the cold, the hour. The landscape was one of hummocks and greasy shine, slick in appearance, as if the snow top had been burnished or oiled and polished. It was beautiful, but creepy.

After skating home over icy asphalt, I decided to head out front in the quiet of early morning to take some shots of our own slick snow mountains. The shine is a crust and quite fragile to the touch. My street scape lacks the power of the overpass park (as I call it), but hints at the total quality. 

Icecapade

New Dawn has taken a beating this year.

 Gaura, one way.

And the other.

 Perovskia atriplicifolia, err, Russian sage.

Hmm. The honeysuckle holds its ice well. But there's no life left in those branches, having been cut off near the ground by the fallen-over trellis.

 Rose leaf, knocked out by ice.

 Hips.

 Icesters.

 In the carbonite chamber (that's for you, Star Wars fans -you know who you are).

Some fine lookin hips.

Icehouldn'thave

But I did. And maybe you won't have too. One thing about cold weather -it's intolerable when it's wet, and this morning, it's friggin wet. My fingers still hurt from 15 minutes of ungloved photography. If you could call it that. It's too dark out for good shots, my camera relying on the noisy 400 ISO despite all the bright snow. Shrinking them helps -my tip o the day.

 The little girl with the fuschia umbrella said to me "it's slippery out." Yes.

 The coat of ice on the van.

Icesome

It's 7:30 am and a look out the window shows an icy covering on everything. Makes me really want to get outside for photos. But, then I'm also not so interested in going outside. Last night, waiting for the bus, the breeze and icy rain stung my cheek, and left an indelible, nasty impression. I'll see what I can muster. From the window:

This Weather is a Little Salty

This is the worst weather. Snowy, sleety, rainy with slushy puddles at every crosswalk. Wet, cold feet one day -frozen slush the next. I'll take frozen weather over this mix any day.

An article on the New England Wildflower Association website got me thinking about all the salt we throw down whenever it snows. I curse my landlord whenever I have to negotiate the stoop and sidewalk with no salt or shoveling. I hated shoveling snow when I was a kid, I don't wish to do it now. Plus, who has time to stay on top of continuous snow fall? But I could help my world a little if I did. As for road salt, having driven long distances in snow recently, I know that snow and ice causes havoc and a whole lot of stress.

Checking on the web for solid information about roadsalt effect on gardens, the soil, and the water, I found surprisingly little (for the web). I wonder if this is because we feel positively about salting. That said, I did find these sites and stories:

New England Wildflower Association thoughts on salt use in winter
Salt Association U.K. says its how we much we use, not that we use.
L.A. Times story about the affects of salt on an Adirondack lake
Times Herald Record of the Hudson Valley on salt use
Milwaukee Journal Sentinal on road salt effects
Cornell Cooperative Extension on salt effects on plants
University of Minnesota Extension on minimizing salt damage to trees

Salt washes into our water and soil, salt spray negatively affects roadside plants. I speculate that most don't use enough sidewalk salt to see the affects on their gardens (or lawns) but the salt does build up in the soil and groundwater for negative long term affects. Until we find alternatives, or stop driving so much in frozen precipitation, I suppose road salts will continue to be a problem. If you own your home, you can stop using salt on your property. You can use sand, wood ash, cat litter (unused!), or other gritty substances that stick on the surface of the ice. Shoveling more, sweeping slush to the curb would help too. Or we can wear those unfortunately named crampons.

New York City requires that you deal with the snow and ice in four hours, which we all know is hardly enforced in most unManhattanly locations. Read NYC Code 16-123. You have four hours after snowfall to begin removal, excepting the hours of 9 pm -7 am, after which you should have begun by 11 am. However, they do not mention salt at all, but do mention wood ash, sawdust, or sand for throwing down on ice. How environmental our city code has become!