Nearing the end of marcescence season? #phenology

Our oak trees are noted for their marcescent leaves, those that hang on throughout Winter. There seems to be an increase in the number of marcescent leaves that are dropping from the branches these days. Could it be that, despite the cold and snow and lack of sunny days, beneath a protective layer, the buds of this years new leaves are beginning to swell? Wouldn't that be a nice sign of better, warmer, maybe even sunnier, days ahead? That thought is enough to warm my heart as we await a mini (micro?) polar vortex later today and tomorrow. Will we then see a progression of days that approach and overtop 32℉? In the Twin Cities area, a normal daily high of 32℉ begins in a little more than a week, on the 23rd of this month. Can you tell I'm as bad as a kid at Christmas time with my impatience for warmer days to arrive. Back in 2017, we had open water at the Cross Avery Sunrise pools and geese and swans had arrived by the end of the third week of this month. Might we be so lucky again this year?

Sunrise River pools, February 21, 2017

Photo by J. Harrington

We've not been stuck in the house with cabin fever and, but for the December rain and excessive January thaw, each followed by hard freezes, we've had a fairly normal Winter. As usual, I find it to be about a month too long. By mid-March a trip to Crex Meadows is probably in order. Perhaps that becomes an inducement to get the tax data organized and off to the accountant. I've noticed a strong tendency to procrastinate on that chore over the past week or so. No doubt that, someday soon, I'll be wondering where  the time went instead of sitting around complaining about being bored by the wind and snow and cold. This being Minnesota, the odds are pretty good we can and will get plowable snows right up into April, but we'll soon be at the point where I can look at the driveway and think "Let it melt!"

To the Thawing Wind

Robert Frost - 1874-1963

Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.

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