After elections, decompression?

The fields and drive are coated in snow. Not deep, but more than we're ready for psychologically. It's "supposed" to come after Thanksgiving, isn't it?. Reports were that the roads were really icy this morning. We were pleased we didn't have to cope with any of it, but there's not much in the way of high temperatures above freezing in the extended forecast. Why is global warming like a cop? Never around when you need one. We're more used to a pattern where we get early snow; it melts; later more snow; it melts; late this month, it starts to snow and stay.

yesterday's light snowfall

Photo by J. Harrington

Looks like we won't finish pulling buckthorn from the area behind the house until next Spring, and even then we won't be "finished" because the bird will still be able to reseed the area. We have noticed that the snow cover makes the buckthorn, still holding foliage, really noticable. If we get a couple of warm(er) days before the ground freezes, we may get the last of the larger stems removed yet this month. The Old Farmer's Almanac forecasts a warmer, dryer Winter for our area. Others call for near or slightly above normal temperatures for this month. NOAA's outlook for the entire Winter is warmer than normal. We'll check back come April and see how we made out.

Winter's early encroachment

Photo by J. Harrington

Juncos are around. They fit with the snow and cold. Haven't yet noticed any purple finches, or other Winter migrants, except what may have been a few pine siskins on the deck yesterday. Today we have to put more suet in the feeders. Chickadees, nuthatches and woodpeckers all are chowing down on it. Must be the cold and snow?

The elections, for a large part, turned out about how we hoped. We're glad they're over, or almost over. We're honestly wondering if the Democrats in Washington, DC, will actually do much to bring about some checks and balances to a deceitful regime that's been under the control of one party (and mostly corporations) for too long.

Falling Leaves and Early Snow

By Kenneth Rexroth

In the years to come they will say,

“They fell like the leaves

In the autumn of nineteen thirty-nine.”

November has come to the forest,

To the meadows where we picked the cyclamen.

The year fades with the white frost

On the brown sedge in the hazy meadows,

Where the deer tracks were black in the morning.

Ice forms in the shadows;

Disheveled maples hang over the water;

Deep gold sunlight glistens on the shrunken stream.

Somnolent trout move through pillars of brown and gold.

The yellow maple leaves eddy above them,

The glittering leaves of the cottonwood,

The olive, velvety alder leaves,

The scarlet dogwood leaves,

Most poignant of all.

In the afternoon thin blades of cloud

Move over the mountains;

The storm clouds follow them;

Fine rain falls without wind.

The forest is filled with wet resonant silence.

When the rain pauses the clouds

Cling to the cliffs and the waterfalls.

In the evening the wind changes;

Snow falls in the sunset.

We stand in the snowy twilight

And watch the moon rise in a breach of cloud.

Between the black pines lie narrow bands of moonlight,

Glimmering with floating snow.

An owl cries in the sifting darkness.

The moon has a sheen like a glacier.

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