Down but not drought

Even the most casual news follower is likely aware of the serious storms that have been moving through Central Texas the past few days.  There has been significant damage caused, much loss of life as well as property.  I feel quite fortunate that so far, family and friends living in the path of the storm systems have reported in they are soggy, but safe.  That is and has not been anything to take for granted recently.

Yesterday I went out prior to the arrival of the heaviest rains to see what was blooming despite the rain, and who was making their rounds besides the happy happy snails.

Jewels of Opar, Althea, Polk Salad plant and Cannas are not waiting for the sun to shine.

I caught a Gulf Fritillary caterpillar just as it had attached to a branch and was preparing to form a chrysalis.

Three minutes later it seemed to be slightly less colorful, and had assumed a "J" shape.

Not quite twenty-four hours later, after weathering some hail and over four inches of wind driven rain, the protective casing seems complete.  Great camouflage job don't you agree? Now it looks like nothing more than a withered leaf.

On the fennel, waterlogged and leaning over to touch the ground, several swallowtail caterpillars continue to work the fronds, albeit with a lot more company than is usual.

I passed on taking a picture, but ease of access has opened up the banquet table to all sorts of less ambitious climbers.  Two kinds of snails and a host of pillbugs of varying sizes were all joining the cats in nibbling on the well washed fennel fronds.

Finally, a shot of some Mammatus clouds that appeared yesterday evening as the sun was setting.  As striking as these clouds are in combination with weirdly colored skies, they are harbingers of significantly severe weather.  No kidding mammatus clouds, we were already copied on that memo.

For the moment our immediate area is in the clear weather wise, though the death, injury and property damage tolls are still climbing as the storm systems continue moving to the north and east.  Population areas towards the low end of all runoff lines are flooding and can expect that to continue for days, if not weeks to come.

Area lakes are now half full, moving our area from what might be considered an agricultural drought more towards a hydrological drought, still affecting future municipal water supplies.  People living around Lake Travis reported a heavy layer of debris accumulating, as the runoff after heavy rains acted like a wildly inconsiderate power washer, moving small docks, jet skis and all manner of loosely anchored material into the water.

I am deeply grateful for the safety of friends and loved ones, relieved to have escaped significant property damage, and on a much smaller scale, happy to note that despite winds, a bit more hail and torrential rains, the smallest inhabitants of our garden seem to be staying calm and carrying on.

Redefined

I am an unapologetic word nerd.  As such I am happiest when we can all agree upon terms.  My current quandary centers around how we will precisely define "Winter" after this year.  Meteorologically speaking, February is a winter month. Spring, linked in our hemisphere to March/April/May, is all about triggered plant growth that benefits from the warmer temperatures beginning with and typical for those three months.

"Typical for".  That's the rub.  There are temperature spikes occurring earlier and earlier, but rather than signaling a general easing into freeze-free territory, these warming spells continue to be stand alone events, inserted into the ordinary "Will it freeze?" crap shoot that is a Central Texas winter.  At least, what we used to call "winter"...

If expected temperature cues in our region are regularly misfiring, what will happen to our mutually agreed upon and widely accepted seasonal definitions? With a range of Spring temperatures starting to pop up regularly in what we've designated as the "Winter" months, what are we going to call this new, in-between season?

"Spring adjacent" is quite a mouthful.  Once the warm spells have begun shall we call that "Wring"?  Then once we hit the last two weeks of February we could call it "Sprinter".

Terms aside for the moment, most plants are stuck outside, rooted in place and mandatorily exposed to the full quilt of crazy that is our current weather. I worry for the flora, people. They are getting a lot of mixed signals.

Out I went to check.  This year so far, the winter plants are all reliably getting their winter business done.

A leatherleaf mahonia I was contemplating transplanting bloomed this year, on two different stalks.  I get the message, Mahonia.  No transplanting for you. Times were tough, but you are tougher.  It is good to see this plant blooming and I look forward to it berrying again.

Yarrow is kicking into higher gear right on schedule.  Established yarrow plants begin blooming in April most years, so I'm taking these new stalks as timely.  Will I get blooms on these relative newcomers?  You know I'll show you if I do. Stay tuned.

Speaking of blooms, the branches on our mature redbud trees are all decked out with eponymous finery.  Here's yet another opportunity to right a terminology wrong.  These are called redbud trees, right? For the buds. The buds that you would have every reason to expect to be red.  But they aren't really red at all.  Isn't it time we acknowledged that?

And even if we aren't in consensus about the need to harness a new color name for the buds, can't we all agree the flowers that follow are anything but red? Redbud blossoms are pink.  Actually, a very particular shade of pink that is absolutely stunning when set off against a high pressure blue sky. I'm not sensing a lot of early traction for a switch to calling them Pinkbud Trees, but it certainly would be more accurate.

The redbud shown in these photos demonstrates no set seasonal bloom time.  Every year just as soon as we get three consecutive really warm days, that tree throws everything it has into budding out at top speed.  You can almost hear it blooming.

It makes for some interesting photo opportunities. This same tree initiated flowering over the MLK weekend in January of 2007 when a winter storm, following close on the heels of a several day long warm spell, coated every branch and emerging bloom with ice.

Serendipitous photograph or cautionary tale?

So far that redbud has gotten away with ignoring the calendar.  And, after a run of consecutive afternoons with highs near 80 recently, a host of other plants here seem to have begun similarly tallying up sun hours and responding to soil warmth.  The question of what season it is has been answered, as far as these plants are concerned.

Because forget checking in with the usual suspects for winter interest this February.  Looking around I was faced with so many examples of plants sporting new growth I eventually just put my camera away.  There are new leaves emerging everywhere.  Plants in every bed, in sun and shade alike, are sporting new shoots and blooms indicating their own internal Spring switch has flipped to the ON position.  

Even the lantana are sending out tiny green leaves. I don't have dated photos to prove it but I distinctly recall lantana as being one of the last plants to join the springtime bash.  If the lantana are leafing out, that tells me as far as the plants are concerned, Spring is game on.

Plants!  What are you going to do?  They all seem to have joined the Pinkbud in staging a calendar coup.  Once those leaves get pushed out, they are out to stay.  And, since we are still in the midst of February, we'll have to wait and see if they are able to stay on. 

Hopefully so.  Now it is finally Wring, can Sprinter be far behind?

Expectations

Climate is what you expect, while weather is what you actually get.  (Thanks to David C. of It's A Dry Heat for that succinct axiom).  

I'd put in multiple passalong plants, spread seed, and planted any number of four inch beauties-to-be during the last weeks of September following on the heels of a four inch soaking rain.  I put in a few more four inch plants and spread more seed the first week of October, expecting ongoing cooler temperatures and gentle rains to serve as my staunch allies in getting them established.  

Why pin so many hopes (and a significant cash outlay) on an October start? Conventional wisdom holds that in Texas at least, it is always best to get all plantings, even natives, well established before the return of summer's Death Star.  We all "know" that October is when the Death Star finally exits, stage right.  

So it follows that plants started in October have the best shot to get growing before any threat of freezing weather occurs. More importantly, they also have the best chance to get roots established before the sun, heat, and dry winds of summer return.  "October starts for happy plants" is a lesson reinforced through years of experience here, and aside from "use natives!" most of my gardening success relies heavily upon the truth of that timing.

This year unfortunately once October rolled around, the weather systems in play weren't quite finished applying the Hot/Dry treatment to the Central Texas area.  With multiple days featuring highs in the 90's along with drying winds and zero precipitation, seedlings and transplants alike were suffering. And I was suffering right along with them.

The options?  Run our supplemental watering system once per week as allotted under the current restrictions keeping my fingers crossed not too many plants would die.  The alternative was to hand water everything, knowing it was the most reliable way to support those new-to-here plants until we saw a return to "normal":cooler wetter weather.

Successful gardening requires the gardener to do a few unpleasant things.  I accept that, but I don't go gracefully.  I griped, I whined, I growled and grumbled.  This hot dry weather was not good for my plant babies. This hot dry weather was not what I signed up for when I turned the calendar page to October.  This hot dry weather was the epitome of everything that was wrong about trying to do anything beautiful in this part of the country.  How, I asked anyone in earshot, could I possibly be expected to work under these conditions?!?  This is October for pete's sake.  October is when the weather is supposed to work WITH us.

Because unfortunately, the areas where I'd put in new plants and spread seeds, were all over the place.  Front yard, back yard, along the edges and smack in the middle of existing beds. Areas including the deer path we are trying to fill in, which has a several inch layer of Slip'NSlide like, not-going-anywhere, live oak leaves on a slope.  A slope I had to carefully traverse while on one leg of the trip at least, carrying two large (heavy!) filled to the brim watering cans.  

And traverse I did.  Back.  And forth.  Standing smacking at mosquitoes while the watering cans filled s-l-o-w-l-y from the nearly emptied rain barrels. Glowering at the sun.  Muttering at the forecast.  

Then today dawned wet and cloudy.  It rained.  It cooled off again. Considerably. And... it continues to rain with colorful rain blobs the predominant feature for our weather map, assuring more to come.  

I am truly sorry for the thousands of music festival fans who will be dealing with a very soggy second Saturday of ACL.  But for the gardeners in our area? This is precisely what needed to happen and not a moment too soon.  A rainy cool day in October?  

This is precisely what I was expecting.

In like a lion

You've heard the saying "If March comes in like a lion it will go out like a lamb."?

Ellie, who lives across the street, often rushes to join me when I venture out front.  She is both a lion and a lamb!

Trying to nail down the origin of this saying (because I was hoping it has some basis in truth) I discovered two different sources.

One is a series of old almanac sayings based upon lines written in early English plays and poems reflecting a belief in the eventual balance of nature.  Nature may indeed balance out,  e-ven-tu-all-y... but as an impatient gardener with plants I want to survive short term, I find it very difficult to take much solace there.

Another source for the saying has not to do with the weather at all, but rather with the stars.  The saying reflects the position of the constellations at the beginning and the end of the month as they switch between Leo (the lion) and Aries (the ram).  I find no encouragement there either, but admit it is a more reliable predictor of what will happen, as opposed to what I wish for.

At any rate, after whining in conversations and emails for days about how much we need rain, I was happy to see (and hear) embedded showers moving over our area during the late afternoon and early evening this past Saturday.

Then the lion roared.  Along came hail, blasting down with the rain. Fortunately the ice pellets were not in our area long enough to cause much damage, and the near inch of precipitation we got here in Rollingwood will not go unrewarded.

Bluebonnets are already responding...

As is a lone Indian Paintbrush...

I'm keeping an eye out for more freezing weather, as I have lots of 4 inch pots in the greenhouse I am eager to transplant into the soil.  Because March is so very unpredictable, weather sayings aside, I will wait a little longer until we are past our typical freeze dates.  Then I will pin my hopes on yet another saying, that April showers will bring May flowers.

Perspective

Recently the forecast for our area advised that conditions were ripe for violent thunderstorms, including the usual bad weather hat trick, damaging winds, dangerous hail and possibly, tornadoes.

Here in Central Texas we are used to our neighbors to the North getting pounded by bad weather.  More typically our area's major concerns surround rain - either way too much or way too little.  This forecast implied we might be in for a taste of what it means to live in the tip end of Tornado Alley for real.  That got my attention.

All of this followed a day when I'd read a short article speculating why there were so few violent storm systems being generated in tornado alley for this year. It was only a few days later that the season kicked into gear, with tornadic activity in Granbury, Texas shortly followed by the massive twister that flattened much of Moore, Oklahoma.

I decided to take the warnings seriously and went out into our planting beds with an eye towards relocating items that might be damaged by large hail, and/or putting away items that could, in high wind situations, become damaging projectile missiles.

The bottle tree was my first concern and as I denuded it of empties I realized several pieces were in jeopardy of being broken or launched.

 A strawberry planter needed to come in under cover, and all our lightweight plastic watering jugs usually stored atop the rain barrels needed to be safely corralled.

As I walked around I realized with a sinking sensation everything was at risk.  Three Meyer lemon trees were heavy with fruit.

 A tomato plant which has so far not produced any fruit was yet still blooming and MIGHT make tomatoes if I could remember to water and feed it sufficiently.

There were flowers everywhere and I wondered where the small feral cat we've been feeding would shelter if the projected severe weather developed in our area.

Most of the time I eye our garden spaces with the view of work yet to be done.  I scan quickly across blooms or fruit to focus on pests or weeds or watering.

On this particular morning I decided it was time to slow down and take a closer look at all the beauty and bounty and rightness that was essentially sheltering in place right under my nose.

As it turned out we did not get high winds, large hail, or a single drop of rain.  The storms all went well to the north of us, as is usual.  I'm working to hold on to my gratitude and the feeling of being surrounded by precious and fragile life in all its beauty. Weeds and pests and undone chores inclusive.

Weather or not I am ready

It happens every year, though the timing varies.

Eventually, after we've survived another long hot summer, past when I've asked the "is it warmer this year than it was last year this time?"regulation query of fall, and finally, just as we were about to give it all up and dig out that action plan for the oft-threatened move northward........it happens.

I open our front door and whump!  It hits me right smack in the face. Cool, crisp air.

Chilliness that is suddenly on the OUTSIDE of our house, instead of on the inside.  The inside of our house being that place where we are thoroughly trained to retreat back into to avoid the ill effects of what happened as recently as yesterday afternoon, in matter of actual fact, a sunny bright 90 degree afternoon.  In late October.

At the risk of sounding ungrateful, I'm feeling a little flustered by the huge shift.

It feels a little bit like this:

Rrring-rrring!

Me:  Hello?

Breathless Voice:  Good morning!  How are you this morning!?

Me:  (trying but not quite avoiding a suspicious tone) I'm fine.  Who is this?

Breathless Voice: I'm fine too!  I'm a paid representative calling on behalf of Mother-Knows-Best, a fully owned subsidiary of Mother Nature Enterprises™. I'm checking in with you today to inquire as to how you are liking the 40 degree temperature drop I show that we just had delivered to your address?

Me:  I didn't order any weather.

Breathless Voice:  Your "change of weather"® has been delivered free of charge and additionally I have been asked to tell you is part of a special offer - absolutely free of any shipping or handling charges.  This weather is all yours, totally free!  We were wondering how you like it?

Me:  It is kind of a shock, honestly.  It must be 40 degrees cooler than it was this time yesterday.

Breathless Voice:  You are totally welcome!

Me:  I'm not thanking you!  It would have been nice for a bit more of a gradual change.  Plus will we get any rain out of this?  We really, really need some rain.

BV:  You're welcome!  I must advise you that while there is no charge for your weather delivery we do have a policy of No Returns once a front has arrived and been unboxed.

Me:  I didn't unbox anything.  I just opened the door and...

BV:  Once you have checked the weather it is yours.  No returns.  You're welcome!

Me:  Please quit saying I am welcome.  I just opened my door, I didn't mean to.....

BV:  Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to us today!  Portions of this conversation may have been recorded for quality control purposes.  Enjoy your weather and remember, "if it is a little change in the weather you need, Mother Nature is the one to call!" ™

When cooler temperatures arrive, it is best to make chicken stock rather than complain.