Spring 3a

I've been keeping up pretty well with spring's progress this month, but not so well with communicating it.  I'll let the pictures do the talking, but there are so many, I'm going to break "Spring 3" into several parts.

First, the leaders.

Across from the little male trees at the high school is a row of stately female quaking aspens (Populus tremuloides).  Long after the males had dropped their spent flowers, those of the females were maturing into fruit. These were opening to shed silky, wind-borne seeds by May 14th.

Black cherry (Prunus serotina) hasn't flowered yet, but it's one of the earliest trees in the neighborhood to leaf out.  The flower buds are just about to break.

 May 11th (2), 13th and 16th.

Changes

I have a love-hate relationship with daylight savings time.  I am attached to the notion that what my clock tells me should be on speaking terms with the motion of earth and sun.  On the other hand, I really like having more daylight in the evening--especially late in the year.  Right now, back on Eastern Standard Time, it is very hard for me to get outdoors with my camera during the week.  By the time I get home, the light is going, and my little camera is struggling to get exposures shorter than a tenth of a second.   These are generally blurred messes.  A tripod would help, but slow me down a lot--and draw even more attention from the neighbors!

On the other hand, the sun is up in the morning before I leave for work.  I wonder if I can squeeze some outdoor time from my morning routine?

Between the end of daylight savings, and poor weekend weather, I have few photos from the last week or so.  But maybe its time for a little retrospective.

For the big white ash in back, drought-induced leaf-loss graded

 imperceptibly into fall.  Most of the neighborhood ashes kept pace.

Photos 10/3, 9/26, 10/8, 10/12, 10/20

 

A majestic white ash down the street put on its show latest of all in the neighborhood.

Photos 10/5, 10/7, 10/18, 10/21, 10/25

Big Daddy, a red maple street tree, began turning pretty early. (9/29)

The big red maple in the yard next door began turning a bit later than its fellows.

Photos 9/29, 10/2, 10/12, 10/18, 10/21

 

Little Mama, a red maple street tree I watch for Nature's Notebook, and

Big Daddy's neighbor, held on to her leaves to the last.  Photos 9/19, 10/2, 10/4,
10/7, 10/12, 10/12, 10/14, 10/18, 10/21, 10/21,10/25, 11/1, 11/5, 11/5, 11/8.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Drought Ended

Our drought this summer was a very local one.  The rain in July and August came in showers, so that other towns had flooding, while we were barely wet.  Nevertheless, it was a real drought, with only a few rainfalls since mid-August, and none of these left more than a quarter inch.

Week after week I would glare at anyone who commented on the "nice weather," and I worried especially about our white ash, which began dropping green leaves even as others in he crown turned brown and die.  Several times I poured some seventy gallons of water over the rooting zone, but I couldn't see if it helped.

 Asters (above) and gray dogwood in my little woods out back a few weeks ago.

In our sixteen years in this house, I'd never seen these dogwoods wilt.

 

 Our majestic seventy-foot ash began losing leaves--many green and healthy-looking--

 over a month ago.  I feared this signaled the arrival of the approaching Emerald Ash Borer,

but when I noticed other ashes in the neighborhood the same way, decided it was drought.

Finally, the last two days we had over an inch of rain.  This fell at a modest rate so it had time to soak in, rather than run off and flood.  I don't want to seem ungrateful, but there's so little growing season left.  I wish it had come earlier in the season to help plants that were still actively growing.  I am feeling better about our ash, though.

Dry, Dry, Dry

 

Even the woods are suffering.

The ground has been dust for a month, except for the rare shower that just wet the surface to taunt the trees.  Although the vegetable garden is sensitive to even two weeks without rain, it's a little unusual to see wild plants wilt.  Ordinarily, plants wilt only in the heat of direct sun, recovering in the shade.  But this morning many plants--herbs, and even shrubs--were wilted before the sun had risen on them.  They were not able to recover even overnight.  Around the neighborhood, some sugar maple trees have been turning prematurely, and white oaks and white ashes have been losing a lot of leaves still green. 

 Heart-leaved aster.

Gray dogwood makes most of the shrub layer in my tiny wood.

It is really hurting.

 

The foxgrapes are ripe and smell good, but the leaves are wilted.

People are often clueless.  I am often greeted with "isn't this great weather!" and the like.  With lowering brows I mutter about the cries of distress from plants, dampening people's moods if not the ground. 

Last legs: little more than half the plants still alive, and most of those failing.
We may get a few more tomatoes, but I try not to set my heart on it..


I can't exactly blame the drought for the condition of our little vegetable garden: we have rain barrels under some of the downspouts, and even a brief shower will give us a few dozen gallons for watering.  And to keep the tomatoes coming (LOVE tomato sandwiches and salads) we have several times resorted to watering from the mains.  I have been watering at least once--and often two two or three times--a week.  No: my brown thumb is more likely to blame for the state of the garden.

But the trees in particular have me worried.  I went through near panic a week ago at the leaf loss by our majestic seventy-foot white ash--perhaps our best tree.  I was half-convinced it was under attack by the Emerald Ash Borer.  This alien invasive insect, introduced in Michigan and spreading nearly nationwide, threatens ash trees everywhere--it is considered the most destructive insect pest in the country right now.  It was first reported in western Massachusetts two years ago and is bearing down on eastern Mass.  Only the fact that a number of ash trees in the neighborhood began losing leaves almost simultaneously finally convinced me that drought was to blame, and that we had a little longer to wait for the insect onslaught.

 

The big ash is losing green leaves, but more are dying in the crown.

This was more than a week ago.

 By the way, you can't trust the weather records on rainfall--especially when it comes to the highly-local showers and thunderstorms of summer.  The same town can be have flooding at one end and be barely wetted at the other.  Instead I have a couple of straight-sided, flat-bottomed coffee mugs around the garden.  At least two or three is wise, so you can catch local variation, the effects of trees and buildings and wind.

As I look back at my journal, I see we had about two-and-a-half inches of rain back on July 4, and then about 3/4 inch on July 16 and another 3/4 on about August 16.*  There has been nothing over an eighth of an inch every couple of weeks since then, and no very substantial rain in over two months.*  *Edit. (Oops--forgot the 3/4 in mid-Aug.)

It's worth mentioning that plants are adapted to water stress: if the water pressure in a leaf drops, special openings called stomata close, reducing further water loss.   A plant with closed stomata is "holding its breath," since it cannot do photosynthesis very well if CO2 and O2 can't get in and out.  But wilt shows that a plant has lost water in spite of having closed stomata--it is a sign of more prolonged stress.

As I write this, we are sorta promised  showers and thundershowers late this afternoon.  I've heard that too many times before to take it too seriously, but maybe if I go walk the dogs on the pond shore that will attract rain...   

Gotta go see.

 

My son walks the dogs where there once was water.

 

The green algae coating tells you where the sand is still  at least damp.  

I have not seen the pond so low in the four or five years I've been watching it.

  PS: Walked at pond, watched sky clear, and heard storms were passing north of Boston (we are south).  On the other hand, I hear thunder now as 8pm nears.

PPS: We DID get some rain--a few minutes of downpour, anyway--and lots of lightning and thunder.  On impulse I grabbed camera and tripod and set them up facing a patch of open sky.  I hit the video button, then ran for the house, getting in the back door just at the biggest flash and most ear-splitting crack.  I vowed not to make fun of my wife's fear of lightning ever again.  The rain stopped in maybe ten minutes, and thunder died to a distant grumble in maybe ten minutes more.  Total in the gauge: only 1/4 inch.  At least the rain barrels got it.

The entire storm in 15 minutes.  (Most of the excitement is in the first few.)  The funny-looking thing that becomes visible in the middle foreground is my tiny cabin sailboat, Surprise.