I love seeing boats in the winter, their exposed underbellies and hearing their musical halyards play when the wind comes through, waiting for warmer days. Likewise, I hold a great reverence for trees (especially deciduous) that sit out the season showing their skeletal outlines that are cloaked during the bloom season. On the practical side, the bare branches are advantageous to the pruning season and also in mapping further plantings. I take my cue from these things, as I lean into winter.
Winter more than any season prompts discussion and speculation, and quite frankly I’m inclined to find the subject a tad boring, yet it’s something that we tend to check daily (if not twice a day). Yet I don’t really organize my days based on what the meteorologists say. I just like to be somewhat informed.
As we well know, the South Coast winter offers a whole different world than summer. In the warm months everything goes full steam, while winter brings it all to a grinding halt. There’s the rub: that balance of nature and of life that we treasure.
It’s not as silent as it seems, though. Flocks of birds also stay through the winter. They don’t have barometers and supermarkets but seem to know where to find what they need. Many a winter’s day finds us engaged in studying them. I noticed several that resembled robins with their red breasts, but their behavior had me stumped.
Stationed on tree branches, they dart among the thorny brambles that hug the stone wall, gobbling up berries. I thought robins dined on worms but learned that in the winter months they alter their pattern, roosting communally and eating fruits and berries.
I’m curious to know the results of the Great Backyard Bird Count that took place over this past weekend and hope to follow up here with the results. A quick Sunday morning check using my Merlin app heard the following birds: song sparrow, bluejay, northern cardinal, purple finch, house finch, house sparrow and tufted titmouse (although no robins were heard). We do feed our wild plumed friends to keep them healthy through the winter and are careful to keep the feeder full.
Like the robins, we modify our diets and our daily rituals in the winter. This slowed pace precedes the frenetic activities of spring. Lest you wonder, it doesn’t shut off my gardening ambitions but diverts them to a different medium.
Instead of digging the dirt, I’m channeling my energies to mental activities – foraging for information. There is little time for serious reading from spring through fall, so I consider myself lucky to have the winter.
One of my standard cold-weather reads is the little yellow Old Farmer’s Almanac which, among other things, contains the weather forecasts for the different regions of the country, planting tables and astronomical data, as it has since 1792, when Robert B. Thomas published his first edition. Among the numerous articles there is one that has suggestions for planting according to the age-old practice, using cycles of the moon.
I thought the editor’s note on “Weathering” was interesting. “To read 234 years of the Almanac is to witness that the human condition is about weathering storms – both literal and allegorical – about coming through, persisting. How we endure matters.” writes Carol Connare, editor in chief, adding, “Whether weathering foul weather, personal challenges, or a public crisis, time is the only fix we can count on. With time, everything changes – including the weather.” The Almanac also has several feature stories on garden-specific topics such as women who pioneered landscape design throughout history. (More about those in a future article.)
This winter, according to the Old Farmer’s Almanac, winter along the Atlantic corridor will be milder and drier, but that’s not been the case this year, though it predicts a late-February snow. It says that trend will continue into March with temperatures 3 degrees above average and precipitation 2 inches below average. April and May will end up hotter and drier than usual, and summer will follow suit with rainfall above normal. A chart for expected precipitation as well as blow-by-blow predictions for each month are printed.
These forecasts are derived from a secret formula devised by Thomas in 1792 and enhanced by the most modern scientific calculations based on solar activity and current meteorological data. The almanac asserts that “nothing in the universe occurs haphazardly, but that there is a cause-and-effect pattern to all phenomena. However, although neither we nor any other forecasters have as yet gained sufficient insight into the mysteries of the universe to predict the weather with total accuracy, our results are almost always very close to our traditional claim of 80%.”
That’s more scientific than the rite practiced by my former ski club in the White Mountains. Preceding ski season each year, a mock battle was staged with members dressed up as characters from Scandinavian mythology. As I recall, Odin, representing rain, would always lose out to Ullr, the god of snow. If the weather didn’t follow suit, we made the most of things. … A good life philosophy indeed.
I have to agree that one mustn’t put too much stock in predictions whether by Puxataney Phil or even the Almanac – but they are certainly fun to follow. Obviously, local meteorologists are more dependable. Historically we usually get thawing temperatures around mid-February, but it’s running lower than average now.
On that note, I’m going to strap on my cross-country skis and tootle around the back yard, before the snow begins to melt! My motivation comes from the Winter Olympics – all that shushing! And those cowbells! My neighbors, by the way, built a veritable ski slope in their backyard for their three children to slide down, so let’s hope we can keep this mini-Olympic village going for a bit longer. Apologies to those who aren’t snow enthusiasts, including my cat and chickens!
“Chill airs and wintry winds/ My ear
Has grown familiar with your song,
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen, and it cheers me long.”
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Seaside Gardener
By Laura McLean