Shovel-fest ahead!

Yes, I know. Another one.  Yet another shovel-fest looms ahead for Monday.  Ah well, at least the front and back decks were cleared of snow from the last storm.  Though if I didn’t know where I would put the last snow, where I will put this one is an even bigger question.

The dogs will be happy. Baby Dog has always loved the snow, and Skye and Sparrow (yes, there’s another one) take to the snow like little sled dogs. Climbing on snow banks, eating snow, diving right into the middle of a drift.  To them, snow is great.  Of course, in their short lives, they’ve never seen summer or spring or fall, so what do they know?  For them, snow is great and that’s all that matters.

The chickens briefly started to lay again, after virtually shutting down the egg-laying shop in mid-November.  The latest cold snap put an end to that, though they weathered last night’s near-zero temperatures with the ease of long experience with cold temperatures.  Today, despite the snow, the ice and the cold, they all decided they wanted out, and out they went. For weeks, I’ve left the coop door open between fetching fresh (i.e. liquid) water and the day’s food, and they’ve happily refused to cross the snow and stayed inside. Until today.  When I returned with a bucket of feed, they were all out, negotiating the icy snow path. I didn’t feel like rounding them up, so they are out.  Often, I can easily catch the hens, but Doodle the rooster is another matter.  He’s friendly enough, if shy, but nearly impossible to catch and I didn’t want to risk a conflict with his spurs.  They will go back inside on their own at dusk tonight, so if they want to march around the snow and ice today, they are welcome to it.  

Turning the corner

For the first time this winter, the constant stream of storms has abated.  A few days of above freezing weather first created a skating rink in my driveway but by now the passage is pretty much bare of snow and ice.  Overhead, unfortunately, the skies remain gray and overcast, and the effect is a gloomy one.

The wheel of the year is turning, however.  The bluebirds, which I haven’t seen since snow first blanketed the mountain, are back.  Where they were hiding, I have no idea.  Did they venture off the mountain to some sheltered tangle with a bit of open water?  Or did they stay here all the time, and I just somehow missed seeing them?  Joining the bluebirds now are robins, too.  One muddy afternoon, a huge flock of them, more than 100 birds, settled in a muddy field, scavenging for hours.

Other than birds and the ubiquitous squirrels, I haven’t seen much of the forest animals. The deer, I know, are wandering around, munching my juniper bushes. But the other residents—the skunk, raccoon, fox and the like—are not in evidence, neither by sight, sound or smell.

Colder weather has returned after the teasing thaw, but even that doesn’t feel as deep as before.  The days are mostly near freezing, and the nights in the ‘teens. The temperature rises and falls, some days warmer and some still quite cold.  Even that is an improvement over the constant chill of two or three weeks ago.  The cold days are just that—cold days, not the cold weeks with no end in sight.  So the season turns, slightly but inexorably towards winter’s end.

Snow and slush

The first thaw of winter 2014 has finally arrived on Roundtop Mtn.  While this is generally a good thing, for the moment it means my driveway is full of slush that refreezes overnight, creating a skating rink.  I will try not to complain too much about that, as the slush is dissipating and there’s less to freeze each night.

The thaw should mean that I will be able to finish clearing off my back deck, shoveling out the propane tank and perhaps working on the roof gutters.  It’s true that will all mean another weekend of shoveling, but at least those projects will be done until the next storm.

I heard this morning that while the eastern U.S. is enjoying (or suffering through, depending on your point of view) the winter of 2014, the rest of the globe is experiencing one of the warmest winters ever. I heard the winter overall is shaping up as the fourth warmest winter on record.  But weather, like politics, is a local phenomena, and that news just isn’t gaining much traction with me at the moment.

Instead, while I am enjoying the easing of winter, I am also relieved that the snowy winter should do a lot to improve the water table in the area, and I’m hopeful it also means fewer ticks and mosquitoes when the weather finally does warm up for spring. The way the weather is going, this could turn out to be one of the last “normal” winters I get to see. I will make every effort to enjoy that however long it lasts.

Why I'm not liking this winter too much

Normally I like winter.  It’s often my favorite season and never worse than #2 on my list of seasons. This year, I have to admit, is not one of my favorites.  As this is unfamiliar ground for me, I’ve spent a little time trying to pin down why I’m not thrilled with a year that is producing lots of winter.  Is it that I’m just getting old?  Have I gotten so used to years of almost non-winters so that an actual winter throws me for a loop?

No, I’ve decided.  That’s not it.

The reason this winter is wearing down even a winter-lover like me is because there’s been little respite from things falling from the sky in the form of one kind of precipitation or other.  My enjoyment of winter comes from being able to do outdoor things during the season.  It comes from snowshoeing on some preferably sunny day, studying the tracks of my forest neighbors as they move around my cabin and just being able to get outside and do things.  This winter about the only thing I’ve done is shovel snow and try and get ready for the next batch of something to fall from the sky.

I had snow on Thursday and Saturday and will have more tomorrow.  And that’s just this week. The other weeks have been much the same.  At the moment I have something over 20 inches of snow on the ground.  6-8 inches were already on the ground when 14 inches more fell on Thursday. Then on Saturday I got another 3-4 inches of snow and tomorrow I’m to get another 2-4 inches of snow.

Winters here typically aren’t like this.  More typical is a snowstorm, followed by 7-10 days of sunshine or at least cloudy days, and then perhaps another snowstorm.  It’s the length of time between storms that gives me time to play outside.  Instead, this year I go from one shovel-fest to another, with barely enough time to shovel the essentials, let alone putter around the cabin, clearing areas that are non-essential but nice to see again.  That’s why this winter is so wearing; there’s no time for fun. I need my fun time in order to enjoy winter!  Fun is in short supply during this winter.  The next shovel-fest is about to begin!

Where am I going to put it?

Where am I going to put it?

That was my first thought when I heard a nor’easter will bring another foot of snow to my door tonight and tomorrow.  Another shovel-fest is about to begin.  As the road from the lane to my cabin door is about 150 ft. long, shoveling will take up most of my energy over tomorrow and Friday, I’m sure.

The second thought I had about the impending snow was, “the chickens won’t be happy.” Chickens don’t like the snow at all, often refusing to cross even the narrow patch of open ground to get underneath the cabin where they find all sorts of goodies and grit.

A foot of snow will be almost twice the height of puppy Skye, though he seems to love the snow and it probably won’t stop him or slow him down for long.

So that brings me back to the big question, of where I’m going to put that much snow.  The answer is that I have no idea but I’d better start figuring it out.  Tonight at the cabin I’ll be doing a few chores to help me prepare for the storm—taking the garbage to the recycling bins, carrying the 40 lb. bag of chicken food from the car to the cabin, taking the car down the mountain to park where the roads will be plowed fairly soon after the snow ends.   It will be a busy evening, and somewhere in there I hope I can start to figure out where I’m going to put another foot of snow.

Still frozen

The winter of 2014 on Roundtop isn’t letting up for a minute so far.  Forget about the years when the  temperature rises above freezing during the day for at least an hour or so.   This winter isn’t one of those.  This winter barely flirts with 30 degrees and then only occasionally.  Most days reach the mid-20’s and can go no higher.

Puppy Skye has yet to see bare ground in his short life.  He does seem to like the snow, but is always ready to return to the warmth of the cabin.  Baby Dog finds the crusty snow a challenge and gives every indication she just doesn’t like it, as she searches and searches for a suitable spot to do her business.  I tell her there are no suitable spots, but she’s convinced there’s one out there somewhere.

I haven’t seen a rabbit since before the holidays, but there’s one or more around.  I found tracks going underneath my parked car and coming out the other side this morning. Deer are a constant, though usually invisible, presence.  They like to eat the juniper bush by the side of the cabin, even if they have to stand on my lowest step to reach the best parts.

Much of the ice from last weeks’ storm still adorns the forest trees.  During a sunny day the forest sees a bit of radiational melting, even though the temperature never rose to freezing.  My cedar tree no longer touches the ground; it is now about three feet above it, still badly bent but better than it was.  Whenever the weather lets up, I may try to tie it up if it doesn’t rebound on its own.  I am still concerned for it but less so than I was when the storm first hit. If nothing else happens, I am starting to be hopeful it will survive.

Ice storm

Yesterday’s ice storm may be worst ice storm I’ve ever had.  And one of the things that is making it so bad is that it won’t get above freezing again for about eight days.  So the ice that’s here today will be here tomorrow and the next day and for days after that.  I expect many trees will break under the weight before the ice disappears.

At the cabin I have electricity but no internet or cable access—I miss the internet far more than cable TV.  I hope the electricity remains on. I thought I was through the worst of it once the freezing rain stopped falling from the sky and the wind diminished. However, this morning my drive to work was more like negotiating a slalom course than anything.  Everywhere I went I saw trees on wires, and I held my breath everything I drove underneath. In a few places I was surprised the road was allowed to be open.  If those trees give way, so will my electricity.

The morning sunrise created a bizarre beauty among the sadly bowed trees. The forest tinkles like a crystal wind chime, a beautiful, dangerous music.

Sundog!

This week is shaping up to be a 1-2-3 punch from Old Man Winter. I’ve already gotten the first punch—8.5 inches of really, really heavy snow.  Tonight is to come punch number two, and it might be worse.  The forecast is for freezing rain (and sleet and snow).  It doesn’t sound pretty.

The trees and wires are still laden and weighed down with the snow of Monday.  Add water and ice to them, and power outages and breaking branches look pretty likely. Punch #3 is coming over the weekend, and it’s too soon to know how bad that one will be. Punch #2 certainly looks like the worst of the lot.

This morning, the clouds were already thickening, but for a brief few moments at sunrise, a sundog also appeared.  It almost looked like a sunrise with two suns.  For a moment I forgot about the dire forecast and just enjoyed the sky show in front of me.

Freezing water

I ended up with a frozen water pipe last evening.  A combination of factors all came together at the same time.  The first was that I wasn’t paying attention to the wind direction yesterday.  The wind was from the WSW and was sometimes as high was 20 mph.  There’s something about that wind direction that has caused me problems for years. I guess that wind hits the back edge of the cabin where the water comes into the house just so.  Instead of paying attention to the wind, I was happy to see the temperature rising again, though it still hasn’t gotten above 20 degrees.

The second thing that happened to cause the problem was that my heat tape quit working, which I hadn’t realized. I hadn’t been into the utility basement since the temperature took its nosedive.  I did check it before the nosedive, but not since.  I’m going to have to get that taken care of.

I do let the faucets drip during the coldest weather, but I’d forgotten to turn one of them to drip, and at least one of the others wasn’t dripping very much.

So there I was just after dark last evening with my hair dryer in hand, running the dryer over the pipe where it’s been known to freeze in the past. In my case, the problematic spot is around bends in the pipe, down near the floor of the basement.  I was lucky this time.  It only took about 10 minutes of work to unfreeze the pipes, so they can’t have been frozen for too long.

Today, all faucets are dripping again.  The best news of all is that tomorrow the temperature will finally rise above freezing for the first time in almost two weeks.  That will make the chickens happy and me too.

Still frozen

The deep freeze continues here on Roundtop Mtn., though this is to be the last really cold day for a while.  Yesterday the temperature never reached double digits.  I’ll be glad when I don’t have to pour hot water over the chicken pen door in order to get it open in the mornings.

The chickens don’t seem too happy during this weather, despite a deep pile of straw in their coop. They barely come out of it long enough to eat and drink.  Their water is frozen by the time I get home in the evenings.  By then, it is late enough that they would be on the roost for the night even without the cold weather. In another few weeks, it should be light enough in the evenings for me to be able to give them fresh water in the evenings before their bed time, so even if the water freezes during the day, they will have a drink before their roost.

This January is shaping up as one of the coldest on record for this area.  It’s not the coldest on record, but it will likely be in the top ten.  So far the average temperature for the month is a good seven degrees below average. I like winter, but I prefer an average one to one this constantly cold.

Orchard moon

Cold weather is settling in around my cabin in a way that I haven’t seen in a few years.  Below zero and near-zero temperatures are the norm at night.   No evidence of a temperature rising above freezing, even for a few hours, is seen in the forecasts for the next 10 days or so.  It’s winter as we used to get winters, at least for now.  It remains to be seen how long this cold spell will last or what the rest of the winter will bring. Winter still has a long way to go before spring.

For the most part, I’m enjoying the normal winter weather, though it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if it was sunny more often.  The forest is quiet, mostly sleeping until spring.  Sometimes a vulture cruises by, or a Cooper’s Hawk scatters the smaller birds at my feeders.  Occasionally, the scream of a pileated woodpecker, outraged by something, breaks the silence. But mostly those noises only make the silence seem deeper.

I discover that a deer stood on my lowest front step, no doubt to better reach the top of the juniper bush beside it.  I find the tracks in the morning.  It was as silent in that unseen midnight raid as the forest around me.  A rabbit bounced along the driveway, hopped the whole way around a beech tree and then headed deeper into the woods, passing within a foot of the chicken coop when it did.  Rabbits are nearly always silent, winter or no.

Day light progresses a little each day. I’ve been so observant about the minute of daylight I gain in the mornings that I’ve completely not noticed the progression of daylight in the evenings. No longer is it dead dark at 5 p.m.  Yesterday, it was still quite light at 5:20 and a little light remained in the sky at 6 p.m. I find that a welcome change.  I may still hibernate in the cabin after dark when the temperature begins its nightly nosedive, but at least I have a few more minutes each day before that happens.

More snow and more cold

I wish I knew how much snow fell during yesterday’s storm.  It’s the lightest, driest, fluffiest snow I’m about ever encountered. Combine that with 20 mph winds and an accurate tally is impossible.  In places I can see bare ground and a few feet away a drift is 3-4 feet deep. My best guess is that 7-9 inches fell.

This morning the temperature was -3 at the cabin, with a predicted that might, just might, reach double digits.  From my vantage point, this cold is only a hair better than the much-touted polar vortex of last week.  And what might make this cold worse is that the temperature won’t reach freezing again for at least a week. That vortex cold dissipated after 24 hours.

Today I am digging out, checking the chickens (so far okay), letting the faucets drip so the water pipes don’t freeze and doing assorted other cold weather chores. Puppy Skye was just getting used to going outside to do his business and now I feel it’s too cold to let him out.  He’s not thrilled with the idea of using paper, but I don’t want him to get sick, either.

The day before the latest snow arrived, the weather was balmy, as is typical before a storm.  So the chickens were out and enjoying their freedom.  After enjoying wild bird seed kicked out of the feeders, they figured out they could enjoy more of it if they jumped up on the feeder table.  Chickens are pretty smart when it comes to food, and mine are no exception.  And after all chickens are birds, too, so why shouldn’t they use a bird feeder?

Settling in

Skye is starting to settle in at the cabin.  Baby Dog is perhaps a tad jealous, though she’s putting on a brave face. She likes him but seems a bit perplexed by it all. Naturally, the puppy is oblivious to any undercurrents.  He has started to herd the cats.  They are not amused.

At the cabin, I’ve had a brief thaw. It’s nothing major, just a few hours in the afternoon that manage to claw above freezing.  That’s enough to bring out some of the small forest denizens that were missing for several weeks. Last night a huge opossum was discovered eating cat food on my front deck, to Baby Dog’s outrage.  She was further outraged around 4 a.m. by the appearance of two very large raccoons. None of these visitors caused any mischief. They were just out and about prowling for food and seeing if they could find any.

The raccoons raided the bird feeders, so I guess I’ll have to return to bringing the feeders in at night, an option I don’t much care for.  The house cats like bird seed, too, and finding a spot to keep the seed away from their reach isn’t easy.  It only makes it more difficult for me to replace the feeders in the morning, too. Another snowstorm would send the raccoons scurrying back to where they’ve been hiding. I’d be okay with that for another few weeks.

There's a new dog in town

Long-time readers of Roundtop Ruminations may remember that my beloved Dog died last spring.  Baby Dog and I became a one-dog household.  Until yesterday, when a new “baby dog” arrived at Carolyn’s cabin.

His name is Skye and he’s a Shetland Sheepdog.  Still only 5 lbs and 8 weeks old, his small size is taking some getting used to.  During Dog’s last months, I had to use a ramp and a sling to get him up and down the 5 steps at the cabin, and at 60 lbs. that was quite a chore for me.  I decided then that my next dog would be smaller.  At the moment Skye is smaller than the cats.  That won’t last.  I’m sure the cats are hoping it will.

It's the sun!

What’s that I see peeking up from behind those trees?  Why, it’s...it’s the sun!

I was overjoyed this morning, for two reasons. The first is that this winter and late fall have been almost unremittingly gloomy and overcast. The sun has been in short supply, even in these short days of winter.  I actually saw my shadow yesterday for something approaching five minutes.  That’s the most in several weeks and cause for celebration all on its own.

The second reason is also momentous.  After sunrises were stuck at 7:30 a.m. for 14 days, the sunrise on Sunday morning was one minute earlier.  Here, the latest sunrise during the year is 7:30 a.m., and for the past 14 days that’s where it’s been.  Until Sunday morning.

Now if you do the math, you will soon discover that 14 days at the same sunrise time puts us at December 29, and as we all know solstice, the shortest day of the year, is back at December 20.  So how can the sunrise be at the same time for a full two weeks?  Because since solstice the sunset time has been a minute later every day.  So the days are getting longer but all that length has been growing in the evenings, not in the mornings. Until Sunday.  For three days the sunrise will be at 7:29 and then on Thursday I will gain another minute at sunrise.  After that, I gain another minute at sunrise every other day until January 23 when things really start to rock and sunrise gains another minute every day.

Finally, the days will start to feel longer again.

Weird winter already

The winter season is still new, though it’s already unusual for this area.  I’m not talking about that polar vortex that numbed the mountain earlier this week.  I’m talking about precipitation, mostly snow.  I can’t recall a winter here where something fell out of the sky every three days.

This area is often dry in winter. That’s why Roundtop makes snow.  Winters are always cold enough for it to snow, but often weeks go by without any snow (or anything else) falling. So in order to have snow for skiing, they make it by shooting water into the frigid air, which then falls to the ground as snow on the slopes.  This year, I barely get the driveway cleaned up from one storm before another one arrives. Most, so far, have been small or barely moderate-sized snows..  It’s just that getting snow (or ice or rain) every three days for weeks on end is really unusual for here. It’s good, too, that these snows have been kind of puny.  A big storm every three days would not be much fun at all!

Today’s photo was not taken this morning—more snow was falling as I left the cabin.  I took it yesterday when the approaching snow turned the sunrise pink as dawn broke.

Snow pants or sandals?

Intersection of Lake Lea and Hickory Rds., Franklin Township, York  County PA

Talk about a roller coaster!  Upper 40’s one minute and -6 degrees a day later.  I can’t keep track of whether I need to wear snow pants or sandals.

The wind has been terrible, with gusts up to 40 mph and sustained winds at 25-30 mph.  Combined with the below zero temperature, that’s colder than I’ve felt in some years.

Didn't get outside early enough to record the -6 temperature

So far, me and my critters, including the chickens, are holding on and doing well.  Doodle even crowed this morning, which was a welcome sound after listening to the wind roar and watching the temperature drop lower and lower through much of the night. Tonight the temperature is supposed to stay above zero but since it’s still only 2 degrees at 1 p.m.  I’m not sure I believe that.  Still, the wind is beginning to diminish, if still in the double digits, so that’s some improvement.  I’ll take what little improvement there is wherever I can find it.

Mornings are still quite dark. I took the photo of Roundtop yesterday around 7:30 a.m. It was still too dark to take a photo out in the woods, so I let the lights on the ski slopes mountain brighten the image.  I’ll be happier when it’s finally light enough in the mornings to take photos in the woods again.  Oh, and it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit warmer, either.  

Roundtop Mountain Resort

A snow globe morning

Mt. Airy Rd., Monaghan Township, York County, Pennsylvania

Doodle, my rooster, didn’t even crow this morning, not that I blame him.  It was 6 degrees F at the cabin this morning under a fierce 20+mph wind.  Snow covered the bottom of the chicken coop, so the girls weren’t eager to walk down the ramp to reach their food and water either.

The cabin got at least 5” of snow and I wouldn’t disagree if someone told me it was really 6 or 7 inches.  This light, fluffy snow is blowing all over the place, uncovering the ground in one spot and then depositing it elsewhere to make another spot twice as deep.

Once off the mountain, the inches of snow that fell dropped quickly, down to just 3-4 inches within a mile or so.  Still, the roads are drifting shut almost as fast as the road crews pass.  Mt. Airy Rd. was down to one lane of travel within an hour of the plow’s passing.

This is snowglobe snow.  You couldn’t build a snowman if your life depended on it.  The snow is as light as paper.  I could broom it off my decks this morning.  Actually, I could probably huff and puff and blow it off the decks, it was that lightweight. It would be a great snow to play in, if only that bitter wind would relax.  Maybe tomorrow.

Reading a snowstorm in the sunset

Sunset at the cabin on New Year's Day.  Snow on its way

Snow has begun to fall.  Even without a weather report, I could see the storm that was to come in last night’s sunset, the first of the new year. Storm totals are predicted low, then higher, then lower again.  I am taking no bets on how much will fall at my cabin. Roundtop often gets quite a different amount than what falls in nearby towns anyway.

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve refused to move the car because the roads up on the mountain were bad. And when I finally do deem it safe enough to travel, I find that the roads down in the valley are not only cleared but dry.  That’s always a shock and has caused me no end of embarrassment when I tell co-workers the roads were too bad to drive on.  I don’t think they believe me, those urban and suburban denizens whose high-heeled boots never actually touch the earth as they travel from living room to garage to parking lot and back again.

Where I live, weather is often the focus of the day.  How hot or cold will it be? Will I need sandals or Yak-trax? Do the chickens need more straw?  Will my water pipes freeze? To me, the weather is a bit like a neighbor who can be fun but just as often brings trouble. Today, I’m expecting a bit of trouble.

Last day of the old year

Last sunrise of 2013, Mountain Rd., Monaghan Township, York County, Pennsylvania

The last day of the year rolls around again.  Winter is settling in at the cabin.  It’s snowing right now, flurries for the moment.  More snow is expected Thursday and Friday, if only a few inches.

In the natural world tomorrow will be little different than today. The forest around my cabin will take no note of the day.  The forest’s cycle is different from our own and follows an older path, the one humans knew best before we started more artificial calendar systems.  We were, I suspect, trying to tame or dominate nature back then by creating calendars based on some human events rather than by following the natural rhythms of the year.  Choosing when to begin a year and creating months probably made our ancestors feel as though they had some control over their world, when they had so very little of that.

In reality, the winter solstice is a more reasonable event to trigger a new year. When the day reaches its shortest point and the night its longest, beginning the long swing there and back again is a natural spot for a new year to begin.  The summer solstice might do as the start of a new year, too, as I could argue that moving from the longest day of the year to the next year’s longest day is also a good spot.  I would agree, though to me the winter solstice is slightly better.

Though I try to see and follow the natural world as best I can, my feet are also in this world, the one that says tomorrow is the start of a new year.  So tomorrow is the day I will start a new bird list for 2014, rummaging around looking under bushes and in the air trying to see what’s out and about.  I do know what I see tomorrow will be little different than what I see today.  But I will look anyway.