Winter just won't go

Not January.  This is March 31, 2014

Lest you doubt that this is the winter that never ends, I bring you this morning’s photo.  The forecast of 1.5-2” of rain turned into 4 inches of rain, followed by considerable sleet and then snow,  along with strong and biting winds.  Sunday afternoon was as thoroughly a miserable day as I can remember.

I have standing water everywhere today. The temperature has gone above freezing and is now rocketing towards 60 degrees, which is quite a change from even six hours ago. The lane past the cabin is deeply rutted and still slushy.  I certainly hope that yesterday’s storm was winter’s dying breath, but the way the season has gone so far, I’m can’t be sure that’s the case, regardless of the date.

Saturday, the feeder birds knew something was up. They fed voraciously, emptying my feeders as though it was mid-February.  Deer were out at midday, grazing on the dead grass.  It was pretty obvious they were fueling up in anticipation of not being able to feed on Sunday.  And as is usual, the animals were right. Perhaps they sensed the changing pressure or perhaps it was just the dampness in the air. But they knew Sunday was going to be bad, and they took advantage of Saturday to fill their bellies.

I was hoping to spend some outdoor time this weekend doing outside spring clean-up, but by Friday I knew that was unlikely.  So spring clean-up will have to wait, as the new season is in no hurry to displace Old Man Winter.

An icy morning

I knew sleet was starting the moment the first pellets clattered onto my stovepipe.  The sound ebbed and flowed as the precipitation changed from sleet to rain to silent snow and back around to all three again.

This morning I felt as though I was in that scene from Dr. Zhivago, where Omar Sharif and Julie Christie meet in a ruined mansion where all the furniture is covered with snow and ice.  If you ever saw that movie in a theater, instead of on a small home screen, you’ll know the scene I mean. I can still remember the audience gasping at how beautiful that was.

Icy cabin 

The forest dusted with ice is gorgeous but treacherous.  The only saving grace from last night’s storm is that the temperature remained near enough to freezing that the ice fell off or broke with little effort.

Pennsylvania’s hilly and twisty roads do not make for fun driving on icy roads.  And conditions can change from one hill to the next, so it’s never a good idea to think driving is safe just because one spot isn’t as bad as it might be. Just wait until you go around the next curve.

This kind of weather brings out the feeder birds at my cabin.  They can’t forage when everything is covered with ice, so they arrive at the feeders well before dawn, anxious not to miss whatever handouts they can find. Then they hang around the feeders for much of the day, waiting for something more.

Even without the sound on my stovepipe or the waiting birds, by dusk last night I knew a storm wasn’t far off. The field atop the mountain next to Roundtop was filled with 16 deer, all grazing.  I often see deer there, but 6-7 is the typical number.  With so many there at the same time, it was pretty obvious they needed to fill up while they still could. 

Once the storm finally clears the mountain, temperatures will return to a winter-time range.  Still, the temperature will not drop to the dead-of-winter range where they should be.  But it’s better than March.

Winter's first gasp

I had a bit of sleet at my cabin this morning, as you can see on the roof of my chicken coop. November 13 is not a particularly unusual date for that to happen, though when sleet immediately follows a day when the temperature is above 60, it’s not all that common. The morning started off with rain, which doesn’t deter me from taking Dog and Baby Dog from their morning walks. But shortly after we started I noticed little balls of ice, bouncing like ping pong balls off my rain jacket.

Soon the sleet was hitting my face, which stung like miniature bees, and we shortened our walk. Too late, the dogs were already soaked, and my rain jacket was showing its well-worn 15 years by not keeping me dry, either. This morning was winter’s first breath, not a big one, but just enough to tell us it’s on its way.

So far, November 2012 is turning out to be below average in temperature, even with the odd 60-degree day from yesterday. After the warmer than usual summer and early fall, it’s a nice break to feel weather the way it’s supposed to be again. Will it last? Probably not.

Sleet and hibernation

For a few moments this morning, I toyed with the idea of simply running the same dark and foggy forest photo that I posted earlier this week. The mountain has looked the same for several days now. The only thing that’s different from that earlier photo, and you can’t see that anyway, is the temperature has dropped about 20 degrees.

Nearly three inches of rain and sleet have fallen here in the last 24 hours or so. Even when it was "warm" enough to rain, it was a bitter, biting rain that kept me from wanting to spend much time outside.

I ventured out with the dogs, feeling the sleet hurt my face with its tiny stabs of ice. At first I was surprised that didn’t seem to bother the dogs. Baby Dog, especially, hates to get wet and needs to be prodded even to walk through a tiny puddle. She didn’t seem to mind the sleet. I think her fur coat kept her from feeling its sting. I have no such protection for my face. I turned to face the opposite direction, but the sleet seemed to be coming from everywhere so even doing that didn’t help very much.

Instead, I holed up in the warm cabin, drinking tea, reading and generally feeling as snug as a squirrel in its warm and leafy nest. There’s something to be said for a little hibernation, at least occasionally. Still, I am ready for a little sunshine. I don’t think I could ever be one of those all-winter hibernators, like bats or frogs. I’m more like a bad weather hibernator, a raccoon, perhaps.