On Second Thought...

Yesterday I wrote three paragraphs for this month's blog edition entitled "May (It Stop Raining)". As you might guess, they were three, rather gloomy paragraphs. As you might also guess, we had a lot of rain on top of months of too much rain. Yes, things are green, but some things, like the the deck and the pole barn's siding, and the dogs' yard fence, aren't meant to be. We bought a powerwasher, but when the rain and the damp go on relentlessly, powerwashing only can add insult to injury.

By my observations, we had more than 6" of rain this month, about 2 1/4" above the historic average. Late on May 27 and into early morning of May 28, when tornadoes hit parts of Ohio and threatened us (we slept through the warning sirens), we had, according to our two rain gauges, nearly 3 inches of rain. The signs of minor flooding were all around the next morning: mulch was washed off gardens; gravel was washed off parts of the driveway; According to the mud-lines, the tiny creek at the front of our property rose a good 4 inches above its bank. To my surprise, the nearest weather-reporting station measured only .6" of rain, a total that once was a lot of rain, but over the past few months has been almost normal, and that amount doesn't cause the damage we found.

Which brings me to another cause of my gloominess; I'm no longer able to access the stats from a weather station anywhere near to us, which means I have no way to corroborate my observations at Bean Hill. Since January, for some mysterious reason, reporting from stations as near as 3 miles away is not longer accessible on the internet. For a while, I could get local precipitation reports from a government agency for a free, but that option has disappeared and been replaced by a rather pricey subscription. So the nearest weather-reporting station now is at the John Glenn International Airport, 15 miles away in the Columbus Metro area. Precipitation amounts can vary widely within a one mile radius; add 14 more miles and the chance for variation increases, which probably accounts for the discrepancy on May 28. There's also a big difference in temperatures; Bean Hill's temperatures are always 5-10 degrees lower than the metro area's.

Readership of this blog was never great, and has fallen off. Between that and my inability to get local confirmation of my observations, I'm pretty discouraged. In addition, this month, with all its dampness and grey skies, included a number of depressing observations and events: the discovery of drowned baby possums, the loss of most of our mason bees from the erratic weather, the absence of butterflies, fritterlies, and any type of bee (except for a few giants that float like dirigibles rather than really fly), and the terrible loss of trees in the Jersey Woods due to days of high winds.

All this is to say I've decided to lay this blog down for a while. I've enjoyed dabbling in citizen-science, but it's become a challenge on several levels, and I no longer have the time or enthusiasm for it. So instead of gathering stats and recording observations, I'm going to just be, and enjoy this beautiful, peaceful nature sanctuary we created out of a soy bean field.

What Can I Say About April?

Weeping crabapple trees

Things started to bloom at Bean Hill mid-April, which brightened an otherwise gloomy month. There was only one day that we enjoyed sun and blue skies; 21 days were cloudy or mostly cloudy. The remaining days depended on your personal outlook. If the month's weather depressed you, you thought of the remaining 8 days as mostly cloudy; if you were being hopeful, you called them partly sunny. I'm sorry to admit that both Ann and I were in depressed group. It was, with the exception of the beautiful flowering trees, the daffodils and their cousins, narcissus and jonquil, tulips, and spring beauties, a pretty grim weather month.                                                                               


                                                 

Spring has sprung

Trout-lily

Although we were only slightly above normal rainfall-wise (.3"), it seemed as if it rained all the time. This is probably because we are now 6" above normal for this time of year, meaning that since sometime last year (which was one of the wettest on record), the ground has never dried out; mud is a constant presence. The mud is so thick on the trails through the Jersey Woods that we gave up trying to walk them, even in wellies. Consequently, we didn't get to enjoy the trout-lily and Solomon's slipper and yellow pansies that decorate the woods this month.  I don't know when we'll ever get the 120 bags of mulch down.

Crabapple blossoms

Day and night average temperatures were both slightly more than 2 degrees above the historic averages. I was surprised to go over the stats and find that 11 days were 7-20 degrees above normal, because it seemed as if we were always cold. Dampness will do that.

To add to the month's over-all depressing weather, most of the two dozen-plus mason bees we nursed through the winter (in a box in the refrigerator!) did not survive. Neither did the bees we ordered, except for a small
number. Unlike previous years, at this point, no mason bees have nested in their bee "hotel". An unexpected freeze and heavy rains over a couple of days probably contributed to the loss of bee life. April 29 was the last day for mason bees to ship, so we ordered another 4 dozen bees. They should arrive tomorrow. Wish them luck and decent weather!

Btw, you're enjoying photos taken in previous years. The blossoms were just as lovely, but the weather wasn't conducive to picture-taking. It wasn't conducive to much beyond binging on Acorn TV. For those of you who like British television, it's worth the modest subscription, and relieves depression caused by bad    weather.

Marching Along to Spring

The "bush" in the creek is the roots of a large ash
toppled by flooding rains and high winds.

March came in like the proverbial lion at Bean Hill, although polar bear might have been the more appropriate animal simile. An arctic blast dropped temperatures during the first week dramatically: March 5's daytime temperature was 29 degrees below the historic average; the night was 20 degrees below average. It seems as if we had a lot of snow this month, but in reality we only had a couple of inches, half of the expected amount.

Although temperatures moderated somewhat after the polar bear bit us, the month's overall highs and lows were below normal by 3.5-4 degrees, respectively. The real story (or the continuing story) is the rain. For a year now, most months have seen more---much more---rain than "normal". Rainfall in March was 1.88" above normal. Couple all the rain we've had for months with the wind storms we've had, and the result is more and more trees are toppling over in the Jersey Woods.

The last snow of March fell the day before the Spring Equinox. It didn't last long, but a combination of temperature, humidity, a weak rising sun, and a cloudy western sky made for some odd lighting effects. My camera captured some of sky colors (below), but wasn't able to capture the feel of the scene. The daytime high reached 52 degrees, so the snow vanished pretty quickly---as did the interesting but kind of eerie light display.

Light snow on mowed meadows and weird light over the Carr Farm

The Spring Equinox is always a welcome point in the Earth Year. We move into the most magical and hopeful of seasons in which every day there is some new and exciting sign of life. There are more birds and more variety of bird songs, and more animals making an appearance. The pond gets cleaned, and, of course, the crocuses bloom.