History shows colder weather, snow more likely this week
It is an oddity of nature that as the dark hours lose ground and the daylight advances each day, winter makes
its strongest assault. We are
caught in the tension between
tow forces; the mercury drops, half convincing us it will never be warm again, but the slow victory of the light tells us the plain truth. This may
be midwinter, but its power is already broken. - Cathy Johnson,
The Nocturnal Naturalist
In the Sky
A few hours before sunrise, the sky appears the way it will be on the warm evenings of middle May. Arcturus is the brightest star overhead, followed by the Corona Borealis. To the east are August’s Vega and Cygnus. The only remnants of winter are Castor and Pollux setting in the northwest.
In January, Venus in Ophiuchus is still the bright Morning Star, rising in the dark before sunup. Mars in Sagittarius, following Venus may be hidden by the Sun. Jupiter in Aries is overhead early in the night, moving west toward dawn. Find Saturn in Aquarius, low in the southwest after sundown. January’s Quadrantid meteors continue to fall through Jan. 12-13. The new Camel Cricket Moon waxes throughout the period, rising in the morning and setting in the evening.
Natural Calendar
Under the white veneer of Deep Winter, the natural history year quickens. Nighttime excursions of skunks, the occasional appearance of flies, an increase in opossum activity, the prophetic calls of overwintering robins, the occasional passage of bluebirds, the great gatherings of Canadian geese for pairing, and the disappearance of autumn seeds all offer counterpoint to the subdued winter silence and the days of snow. And the arbitrary counterpoint of personal observations complements the seesaw moods of separate Januarys and the different characters of the various years.
In milder winters, snowdrops are often showing by this date. Back in the first half January of 1992, a friend of mine called with just such news.
“They’re not only up,” Janet said, “they’re almost budding, you know how they do, the white petals just kind of peeking out!” She had three hyacinths coming up too, each an inch tall, underneath.
How often does it happen that bulbs are emerging at this time of year in the Ohio Valley? It happened at least in 2020, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2004, 2000, 1990 and in 1989 (the temperature even approaching 60 during this week that year), and (based on December averages) in 1975, 1967, 1960, 1953, 1950, 1949 and so on during the more gentle Januarys back into history.
Weather History for the Week Ahead
Weather history for this week of January shows rapidly increasing odds for colder weather. Chances of highs only in the 20s or teens increase to near 50 percent on the 8th, 9th, 14th, and 15th. Below-zero readings occur most often on the 9th, 11th, and 16th (20 percent of the years in my record). With a general increase in the cold, skies have fewer clouds this week of the year, and the 13th, 15th and 16th bringing a 60 percent chance of sun. The cloudiest day of the week is usually the 14th, with only a 35 percent chance of clearing. Precipitation occurs two years out of three between the 12th and the 14th, with the 14th bringing snow to central Ohio more often than any other day of the entire year.
Countdown to Spring
One week until the tufted titmouse begins its mating calls and pines start to pollinate
Two weeks until the traditional January thaw and the beginning of late winter
Three weeks until cardinals start to sing before dawn
Four weeks until doves join the cardinals, and maple sap flows
Five weeks until the first redwinged blackbirds arrive in the wetlands
Six weeks to the first snowdrop bloom and the official start of early spring
Seven weeks to crocus season and major pussy willow emerging season
Eight weeks to the beginning of the morning robin chorus before sunrise
Nine weeks to daffodil time Ten weeks to the major wildflower bloom
In the Field and Garden
Increase energy feeds to animals (and to pets and family) in unusually severe weather. Consider forage testing if you suspect that quality is declining. Many people believe that feeding energy foods in the evening produces the best results.
Purchase grass seed for frost-seeding the lawn; get clover ready for frost-seeding the pasture; be ready to put in spring oats and barley, too. Consider a special hog pasture mix for your pigs. Plan to seed after the snow has melted but when the nights are still cold and the soil will freeze and crack, allowing the seeds to plant themselves.
Journal
Through his iron glades Rides Winter the Huntsman.
All color fades As his horn is heard sighing.
- Osbert Sitwell By the first week of Early Winter, my small greenhouse space is full of plants from the garden, potted plants from the porch, ancient plants that I have kept alive from decades past. Like I do in every season, I greet them in the morning before I feed the fish and the birds. They are all pets, companions, confidents.
At the end of October, I dig the plots of canna lilies, saving the most vigorous ones for their greenhouse foliage, and keeping the rhizomes of the others for spring sprouting. I bring in the spider plants and ferns and Tradescantia and pothos, and I hang them in the windows. I bring the potted porch begonias, geraniums, alliums and hibiscuses and set them where they will find the most sun. I clean off the threefoot jade trees, and I check the ancient philodendron (that came, like the jade trees, from North Carolina cuttings in the 1970s. I have an eight-foot pony-tail palm cactus, a 15-year-old fica, two tropical plumeria trees, and almost a dozen two-foot thuja trees that are supposed to reach 30 feet tall long after I am dead.
All these creatures live crowded together in a space maybe 30 feet by 10 feet. Outside the windows, bamboo hides the neighborhood. It would not matter, if the space were larger or smaller. It is, I think, the enclosure that matters, the quiet force of the multiple leaves and buds. Except for my daily “Good morning, plants!” I don’t talk to them a lot, and I don’t hear them if they do try to communicate with sound. They are, however, quite articulate in body language, neglected leaves complaining and even shouting sometimes when they need water. And so we have our own language.
Surrounded by so many living species that do not quiver in the wind, that only wait for my presence, I often think of our shared vulnerability in the presence of winter the huntsman, who would destroy us if he could. I also feel as dependent as they are upon our season and on our time and on our impending limits. I am grateful for our shared retreat, hiding in the face of inclemency and danger, grateful that we have each other so quietly and in unfathomable simplicity.