Moon is setting low,
Stars, snow glittering like gems
Dawn will be here, soon.
–4:30 am haiku
One’s winter MO is just becoming established when — oops — winter appears to be over, although on Martha’s Vineyard that is a dubious assumption. Mid-February brought the first distinctive male cardinal calls. Witch hazels like this weather, and are flaunting their funny little threads of flowers. They provide a spot of color and something uplifting at this “spring ahead” time, while we await brighter days and better news.
After the blizzard
Snowbanks are receding; the ensuing fog is likened to the ground’s steaming breath, an exhale from the earth.
The Feb. 23 blizzard was well-forecast. Conditions approached what I recall as the routine winter blizzards of my childhood. (Life is different now; it is harder to accept being snowed in, or the inconvenience, or outright hardships, that that entails. Without the leverage to insist that all power lines belong underground, or other means to insure modern life as we know it can continue, this is where we are.)
The snow acted upon everything, protagonist turning all else into passive tense. Everything growing was coated with extreme loads of heavy snow, the shrubbery and the trees, much of it unreachable due to snow’s sheer deepness. Only trees’ upper reaches were freed early by blizzard winds, while ground levels remained still and buried.
Downed trees, especially pines, damaged power lines and closed roads. The emergency travel ban allowed repairs and snow clearing to proceed, and demonstrated to many of us that much of our comings and goings are nonessential.
As melting commenced, the sinking snowloads pulled limbs down, some to the breaking point. Other growth miraculously survived, rebounding coltishly once freed. The puckerbrush sank, ever lower, until it disappeared into a flattened mass, safe refuge for smaller wildlife.
The departing snowbanks reveal the carpet of litter as bare and solid ground reappears. A welter of twigs, branches, and tufts of moss and lichen were scoured down by falling and melting snow and ice clumps.
The blizzard imposed a heavy branch burden, especially on broadleaved evergreens. Once it became possible to get around outside to check, it was revealed that hollies, rhododendrons, and Japanese maples were hit hard. Snowloads performed a great deal of pruning, most of it unwelcome. This is one of the “whys” of deciduous trees, evolved over millions of years of varying climates.
Positive aspects of snow to consider: Snow contains nitrogen. Snow acts like a mulch. Snow has been referred to as ‘the poor man’s fertilizer,’ and this is true in part due to the dissolved nitrogen it contains. As it melts, snow slowly infuses this nitrogen into soils. Acting like a mulch, due to the amounts of air trapped in snowfall, it insulates what it covers like a big white blanket, preventing damage from freezing.
Where are the birds?
I heard the male cardinal, and downy woodpeckers are visiting the suet we put out. And there are the handful of sparrows, one bluejay, and the three resident crows. It seems strangely silent nonetheless, at a time of year birdcall normally begins to increase.
Lots of bad weather is undoubtedly a factor. However, bird census-taking across the U.S. reveals alarming figures. The journal Science published a study (1987 to 2021) linking locations with accelerating decline of bird populations to agricultural practices and pesticide use as primary causes. Read it here: bit.ly/SCI_BirdStudy. As human populations and technologies have grown, so have their influences on our ecosystems. The study notes, “Using data from the North American Breeding Bird Survey, the authors found that about half of the 261 species analyzed showed significant declines from 1987 to 2021.”
This news is not good. We are reliant upon birds (and bats) for an enormous amount of insect control. Somehow human health, our food production, wildlife populations, and ecosystems must be brought into greater harmony. Is it not possible to harness AI to propose solutions for these kinds of problems? Instead of gaming AI-assisted warfare?
Henhouse
I let the chicken flock out for the first time on Wednesday, March 4. They had been cooped since mid-January, the MLK weekend snow. In the deep snow, there was nowhere for them to go to be safe, and to be able to escape hawk attacks.
The birds were not happy about this; they responded with reduced laying and eating. Somehow, they realized the dust-bath possibilities of the box of wood ash and agricultural lime, and they dove for the stale bread and what other few goodies I had for them.
What really pleased the birds, though, were the branches of the large calamondin (pictured in Feb. 26 Garden Notes). I hard-pruned that plant to ready it for the coming season, and left the prunings in the henhouse. Every leaf was devoured and pecked away, down to the ribs. Come to find out that in the Philippines, calamansi foliage — but not the fruit — is fed to poultry to supply them with valuable vitamins and minerals.
In the garden
Early spring: Light levels increase, despite dreary weather, and it is time to sow seeds. Prune storm-damaged trees and shrubs; prune red twig dogwoods — the brightest color shows on new growth. Plants wintered over indoors respond to the stronger light. They need more watering, and show new growth and signs of blooming. The renewed growth promotes whitefly and scale outbreaks.
The primula pictured, thought to be P. kisoana, the hardy primrose, sat dormant through the winter months — until suddenly, lime green foliage, and then pink daisies! Primroses in general, although non-native, make good subjects for Island spring and shade gardens, being avoided by deer and rabbits; they persist over many years. Propagation is by division after blooming.
R.I.P. Warren Doty, earned for devotion to Island way of life