Oriental Year of Water Wabbit aka March Hare Brings False Spring, Ice Balls, Massive Snowfall in Unexpected Places

ORIENTAL YEAR OF WATER WABBIT aka MARCH HARE BRINGS FALSE SPRING, ICE BALLS, MASSIVE SNOWFALL in UNEXPECTED PLACES

FIRST WEDNESDAY TUNE-IN FROM DEEP INSIDE MOUNTAIN WRITERS’ CAVE for[?INSECURE] CREATIVE, SCRIBBLERS to WITNESS UNUSUALLY HIGH TEMPS & SUNSHINE in SOUTHERN PARTS of ‘REAL WORLD’

GOLF BUFFS CELEBRATE @PGA HONDA CLASSIC PALM SPRINGS, FLA in 80ºF, w/BAHAMAS, PUERTO RICO, CARIBBEAN vs. SAN FRANCISCO, LAS VEGAS, SHASTA’s SNOW & ICE BALLS

HONDA Classic golf tournament just ended at the hugely complicated PGA golf course in Palm Springs, Fla, with a final playoff between champion Chris Kirk & challenger Eric Cole, Kirk winning by a triumphant birdie on water/bunker-enclosed 18th green.

Rubber Duckies Join the Throng Aboard new s.s. Scarlet Lady

More than a decade ago, ocean studies conducted by major New England ocean research state-funded institutions discovered that “rubber duckies“, below rt. were being unwittingly transported around the globe, following natural current fluctuations & boosted by tropical and Arctic storms. While a concentration of these tiny plastic toys gathered naturally in Central Pacific’s Great ‘Pacific Garbage Patch’, others found their way to Alaska, Pennsylvania, Trinidad, CA & even the Magellan Straits & Chile’s Cape Horn.

Virgin Cruise ship, top rt. s.s. Scarlet Lady has joined Richard Branson’s family of human transportation to unusual places-space, airline jets & deep sea adventures with ocean voyages to Caribbean, Florida Keys, Bahamian Cays, and Leeward Islands, & soon Puerto Rico in essentially British style cruises: the Scarlet Lady takes only adult passengers; although a little bird succeeded in hiding mini “rubber-duckies” under passengers’ dining room chairs & in cabins (for charity) before they sailed on last adventure.

During Mardi Gras Carnival in NOLA, the ‘Big Easy’, and Brazil last month, there were all versions of duckies, although it took return to semi-normalcy for our fave creatures to feature—Valentine’s Day duckies, rt, 2nd top & middle rt. reigning supreme.

Ocean-fishing begins to surge now, with the waxing March moon encouraging fishermen—particularly Pacific islanders-to join their fellows in catch-to-eat swordfish & Ahi-(popular member of tuna family), while Ocean tourism by local Hawai’ian Tourist Board yachts is bringing in early whale-spotters. Humpbacks, monk seal pups, even shark babies are being born in seasonal balmy waters—Hilo Bay, Big Island, HI air temp 80ºF; water temp 76ºF.

Even if no mythical hippocampus sea monsters have been seen drawing god Poseidon/Neptune’s chariot—as in Fishbourne Roman Palace mosaic floor, above bottom rt., indeed gentle giant Mama humpbacks have been spotted giving birth to babies in balmy waters off Kailua-Kona on Hawai’i’s leeward coast. Right now volunteer preservationists are diligent in removing all discarded fish-netting gear & plastic debris from these waters. Even sharks, stranded in unusually high spring tides have been carefully assisted by the volunteers (wearing protective dive suits) back into the Bay. Baby monk seals caressed in sand by Mama are also being monitored,

Thankfully, we are seeing the last of February’s month of high winds and rainfall—two feet in places, up to 7inches per day Hilo coast, associated with high surf & wintry showers over Mauna Kea mountain top, 29,000ft from ocean floor—which coated the telescope array (ELT, extra large telescope) with a dusting of white snow. It had a surreal edge to it, particularly on Virgo full moon night February 19th.

March full “Worm” moon next Tuesday March 7th, will be followed by new moon March 21st, coinciding with Spring Equinox and the beginning of Ramadan. In the old pre-Xtian calendar Equinox falls precisely six weeks after Feast of Bridei/Brigid, aka Candlemas, February 2nd.

Clocks spring forward on March 12th, 2023 (Daylight Saving time in U.S.A.), while British clocks change later month 3/26/23.

Ancient pre-Celtic Deities Based on Babylonian/Greek/Carthaginian Model copied into Roman Pantheon

In the ancient pre-Xtian Calendar, based on Roman/Greek/Babylonian mythology, we [Europeans] still calculate Palm Sunday, Easter & even Islamic Ramadan/ Jewish Rosh Hashanah around solstices & equinoxes. e.g. Candlemas, Feb.2nd, Feast of Bride/ ancient Brigantia falls precisely six weeks after winter solstice; six weeks before Spring Equinox; with one exception—Easter in R.C, Anglican & Presbyterian Churches varies from Orthodox Church by one week.

This clearly wasn’t an issue to the pantheon aka atheist gods of myth; as theirs was a realm “above”/beyond the human sphere, where “God was killable”. Pantheon=place where gods dwell. So, when Zeus/Helios at first reigned within the pantheon [below 3rd l.] he drove his chariot drawn by horses of his creation around the sky in the day, resting at night in the arms of Nyx, Nut in Egyptian pantheon. When Zeus took on the rôle of sole sun god & Hades [the place/underworld] became incarnate as god of night, he delegated the job of ocean protector and father of (sea)horses to Poseidon/Neptune, pic below bottom l. & top rt. who not only birthed equine offspring, but was in charge of earthquakes-[earth-shaker] Sculpture below rt. Poseidon stands at Melenara harbour entrance Gran Canaria; Canary Islands, on Atlantic Ocean side of entrance to the Mediterranean Sea.

His trident symbolizes triple rôle as god/protector of ocean-and ocean-going vessels, sailors and fishermen-earthquakes and horses.

Nymph Scylla, above rt, (in myth sister of Carybdis, the whirlpool), because she was hated by Zeus’ wife Hera-putative reason:her ex-marital lover preferred Scylla to her-was forever doomed to cause the death of fishermen/sailors, therefore the antithesis of a protector, in contrast to Poseidon/Neptune, their guardian god, (adjacent pic w/sea bubbles) whom she loved.

Before Hades was given dominion over the underworld, Poseidon was seen as its ruler: logical, as Ocean and (underground) Earth Shaker. At that time he was married to Demeter, with Persephone as their daughter. When Zeus took over that godhead, in Bronze Age Mycenaean Greek pantheon, Hera, his wife who hated Scylla, bottom r. above, changed her from delicate inspirational nymph -Muse to forever land-bound beauty, so that passing sailors and fishing craft would be inspired/transfixed by her earth-bound loveliness and not see their ship being drawn into the whirlpool of her sister Carybdis in the waters ahead of them.

Homer’s Odyssey describes her fatal attraction in some detail, as a warning to sailors and fishermen throughout the ages.

Traditional belief that planet Earth goes through a transformation in spring, summer and fall/winter, personified in female form by Greek, Babylonian & Roman triad of goddesses Persephone, Demeter, Hecate/Ceres. Earlier Babylonian/Greek goddesses seem to fit the classical image of that female triad: maiden, mother & crone better than their Roman counterparts Artemis/Diana & Selene/ Luna.

Muse-nymph Scylla, above rt. however, never ages, never experiences winter, never becomes the crone.

Archaeologists in 2000 discovered the tomb of Babylonian GILGAMESH aka Nimrod, rt. the first anti-Christ of the Bible (Old Testament).

The U.S, under excuse of going to war, collected the body, looted the museum, stealing 5000-year old Babylonian tablets describing how to ‘raise a god from the dead’.

Cold war antics do not go away. They are just superceded by modern politics.

RAF Nimrod, jet aircraft pictured here on take-off from R.A.F. Lossiemouth airbase—still operational—on Moray Firth coast, near mouth of River Spey.

It lies adjacent to Gordonstoun School, (private), and 7thC Pictish stronghold Duffus Castle & estate.

Neighbours to W: Findhorn intentional spiritual community, Burghead Scotland’s largest Pictish stronghold

Duffus House, previously leased boys’ boarding house attached to G House on school grounds, has returned to private ownership, now operates as a holiday venue entertainment centre for visitors to Morayshire’s North Coast, ABD Scotland.

Enter the Slippery Slope of Politics as Humans Decipher Code from the Stars—or from Rival Regimes

Hacking isn’t anything new. I became a victim of the dreaded hack in late autumn last year, making it impossible to continue writing this, my beloved blog—a fave occupation next to novel-writing; tree-planting—necessitating a three-month hiatus [+deep self-questioning & doubt of my abilities as a writer—guess you could call that truly Insecure], partly rescued by “reality”, a period of enforced confinement in hospital for a hereditary diabetes-related condition, and addressing the ‘real’ prospects of recovery in a [Telosian eternal, I know, I know] body which was in ‘real world’ terms past its sell-by date! i.e. fledgling octogenarian.

Fave trees of ancient vintage-top of page 2nd row: sacred ash, last remaining one of four planted 1752 as church boundary marker Bourtie kirkyard, ABD to delineate division between kirk burial ground (full of Pictish remnant stones) & ‘outsiders’/non-believers who had to settle for burial in ‘annexe’! And companion in age—though worlds apart—Prairie Creek State Park, N of Orick, CA off Old State Hwy & present Hwy-1 UCal/Arcata/Eureka: ‘Corkscrew’ Redwood [Sequoia sempervirens] first-growth i.e. 2000yr old with twisting trunk in characteristic counter-clockwise motion.

It became clear to me that the world of hackers—now being adopted en masse by powerful regimes around the world as a political ruse to familiarize themselves with the prospect of world domination by bot [as opposed to domination by tank, military force, or clever television manipulation of innocent masses] operates with cleverness at the most innocent level, [my persuasive lady who wanted my site/personal info was a mid-life crisean from Lancashire, N.England, working hard to support a family after a lifetime of poverty]. It is also being commandeered by top officials in hugely powerful regimes in both hemispheres of the globe, neither admitting their stealth or outright theft to one another.

‘Cold War’ was a term used c. 1990-2000 to describe an uneasy agreement among war-capable nations not to use their weapons. The expression has raised its head again, as political heads in U.S. imply unconfirmed reports of certain nuclear-capable countries in the Eastern bloc readying their arsenals for ‘potential’ deployment. North Korean leader Kim Jong Un has backed his Chinese allies in promising aid—nuclear-capable implied—along with military force if needed. While neighbour (U.S. Ally) S. Korea, Seoul press releases have emphasized both neighbor countries’ poverty-stricken masses’ need to return to traditional (organic, hand-tooled) farming. Food scarcity has become a shared world issue.

American teens-proficient in body-camera/portable phone culture-have taken up the litany to help poor nations—especially crucial right now with thousands of earthquake fatalities & lucky survivors/refugees from recent Turkish disaster—to donate free food.

This younger generation has been storming the White House environs & midtown New York with signs & blocking traffic.

As a footnote to the recent mid-February 2023 President Biden (much-televised, but unofficial) visit to Warsaw, Poland, combined w/Ukrainian leader & Euro NATO member nations’ meetings, U.S. White House supremo promised $500million in (military) ‘aid’ to Kyiv. Teens/children supporting nursing & hospital staff on strike in U.S. mainland agree this sum would pay for rescue food & care packages for the poor, aged care-home residents and homeless within mainland U.S. for the next three years.

39th President Jimmy Carter, 95, recently committed to receiving care treatment at home, would certainly agree.

In order to add weight to White House speculations, U.S. political spokespersons in the D.C. capital have allowed television cameras to reproduce their claim that a variant of the pandemic Covid virus was caused by an accidental leak from a medical laboratory in China. Absolutely no evidence of the validity of this so-called ‘received information’ has been given.

It adds to the nuance of lying by a White House official to an already festering issue of anti-China sentiment.

Oblivious to Needy Millions within Continental U.S.A, White House Focuses on 2024 Election

Meanwhile, as of yesterday, Feb.28th, 2023, the White House has given all Federal Agencies 30 days to purge Chinese-owned video-snippet sharing app TikTok, pic above (on millions of private phones) from all U.S.Government-issued devices, setting a deadline to comply with a ban ordered by U.S. Congress—ordered end-January by Texas governor/Austin agents & removed the app. The ban does not apply to businesses within the U.S. (that have no association with the government) or to private individuals.

With my fairly poor excuse that I never quite got the hang of Tiktok anyway—or SnapChat for that matter; I’m a traditionalist & Tweet-person at heart—Elon Musk eat yours out! ❤ with occasional fanciful flights into Instagram—when I’m not being hacked!

Great Britain has not issued any statement on the subject.

Meanwhile Biden seems more concerned with his own image vis-à-vis rivals to his status in 2024 election, as both D.Trump & newcomer Marianne Williamson, who believes in politics of ‘Love inspired by Spirituality’ through ‘Eyes of the Heart’, have a lot of support & promise fairness & equality in federal spending. We wait to see if that might downplay any nuclear arms race.

Writing—and Nature-Watching—a Healthier & Happier Solution to All Ills

Farmers—in particular Organic agri-buffs who use natural companion planting to foster good relationship between plant offspring—remembering Findhorn founder & Angel-chat lady Dorothy Maclean who chatted her sweet peas (below) into producing a more abundant crop—her 1960s’ residence blue caravan at the Park, rt—have always had the edge over those who mow their lawns into oblivion or plant in weed-free rows as means to a quick harvest. Weed killer a no-no!

I have always been one of the former, with addition of hundreds of free-range henny-pukes 2add free manure to an already abundant pasture. See jungle fowl below.

Tree-related p.s.Trees-for-Life started @ Findhorn as a woodland charity, creating its own forest-environment ethos, now centred in Glenfeshie. INV, Scotland

Dorothy, caravan above, in the first garden she planted at the ‘Park’, Findhorn’s perennially thriving growing plot, now peopled with other structures, spoke daily to the sweet pea fairy, left. She was told by the entity’s non-corporeal essence that its cousin, the gloriously edible pea loved humans so much it wanted to thrive.

Peas have always been my fave veg. As a child growing up (in Aberdeenshire) within a hugely productive [organic] garden available to me, I used to pick & stuff my apron with them, climb up the tower of our Victorian granite house & munch [& meditate] overlooking vast-undeveloped-green rolling fields.

As an adult in my own (also granite) house, there was an 18thC walled garden. It welcomed my simple ways, making horticulture a delight. I grew both sweet peas & peas on trellises—wouldn’t you guess, they thrived.

Where I live now-a mid-Pacific ex-pat with gratitude for Hawai’ian warm temperatures to caress my bones-most people grow their own food aka organic. Gardens & woodland [+supermarket parking lots & harbour entrances] are domain of ‘jungle fowl’ who roam freely. You’re lucky to find a nest, as eggs are clearly organic. Go Jungle Fowl!

It is good to hear that Chinese and Polish, Russian and Pakistani agencies are encouraging the innate ability of their country’s poor to grow their own food as a partial solution to modern-day crises—political or otherwise. Poor people, imho, have always known how to make their backyards productive.

So, with the sound of local Hawai’ian froggy-croaks by green shiny tiny Coqui amphibian babes in my earphone-enhanced ears, & the blatant ego-preening swish of cockerel feathers & crowing to his hareem as he gloriously struts outside my hospital window, may I add greetings & good luck to all gardeners, writers young & old. Keep flying the flag of truth, cos lying never wins. We have places to go [in our heart & minds], ppl to influence [truth & light, joy & laughter aka Telosian delight]. And keep that pen and/or Computah working like a Fire-the-Grid expert that you are; and noli illegitimati carborundum don’t let the b–tards grind Udown. ©2023 Marian C. Youngblood

2009/2010 El Niño Crazies? or Just Weather

It was a dark and stormy night – oh, no – wrong genre – start again.

Beauty of a snowflake

I decided winter was going to be a hard one when snow started falling a week before Christmas. Slow and steady, huge hexagonal flakes of white fluff that wouldn’t hurt a fly – until it amasses.

And amass it did.

In this neck of the woods, a white Christmas has become something of a rarity over the last score years: an event you remembered from childhood, when lampposts were short and dogs were tall; when traffic was a report you heard on the radio; when the wind blew from the North and old men predicted the white stuff. In these last few years, it feels as if the Earth is turning on the screws and testing us countryfolk to see if we’re made of the right stuff.

There’s a link there somewhere.

All summer long – I blogged about the weather, because there was nothing I could do to change it – winds brought cloud and rain from the west: dragged it kicking and screaming across the Grampian Mountains – that famous Roman chain that spawned Mons Graupius, which usually blocks precipitation – and dumped it on Aberdeenshire.

Geology of Aberdeenshire: granite, red sandstone and raised beach gravel

For those of you unaccustomed to our spectacular micro-climatic conditions in the Northeast triangle of Scotland, the Grampian county of Aberdeen has paleo-historically been blessed with low-level Pleistocene marine sands and gravels on its eastern coast, Devonian red sandstone on the North coast and intrusive muti-colour granites – also Devonian – in the middle. They’re the ones that usually soak up leftover raindrops.

The Cairngorms form a natural divide between East and West. These stately peaks – though only in the minds of Scots, as they rise to a maximum of 4,000 feet – are geographically closer to the Atlantic Ocean than they are to the North Sea; yet their granite bloc is a block for precipitation, most years dumped unceremoniously on the long-suffering, midge-ridden West.

For every mile east you go you can expect one inch less rainfall. It’s an old Scots maxim that made some sense in Grandfather’s time.

The charmed population of Aberdeenshire has historically experienced early springs, punctual return of swallows, balmy if slightly dry summers and mild falls. Winter, since the storms of 1981-2, was a gleam in the weatherman’s eye.

Until 2009-2010.

Summer was a non-starter. A brilliant flash in late June – like a forgotten dream: one week after solstice, a few days into early July seemed like a world of childhood fantasy; running barefoot through meadow flowers, gathering domestic strawberries, wild raspberries; thinking of lush promised fruits to come: plums and pears and apples.

Then the drought (so-called ‘heat-wave’) vanished and the rains came. And with them the winds.

Hurricane Katrina August 2005

In the Bahamas and the Florida Keys they used to say a hurricane rhyme:

‘June: too soon,
July: stand by,
August: come it must,
September: remember,
October: all over.’

It applied last year to eastern Scotland, to a scary degree.

June and July were the calm before the storm. August – a month when surprise ‘spates’ arrive and inundate fields of ripening grain, sweeping all before them into overflowing ditches, burns and rivers – brought two downpours. Central riverine communities sandbagged doors, secured and taped windows. And still it came. September there were three more floods; this time the river Don burst its banks in several places: in Kintore a farmer died in his tractor, caught out and drowned, unable to extract himself from floodwaters.

A mile of Don’s worth two of Dee
Except for fish and stone and tree

The September ‘spate’, likened to its ancestor, the ‘Muckle Spate o’ ‘29’ (by that they meant 1829), carried away everything not tied down: including fish, stone and tree.

Equinox came and went and still it rained. Still the winds blew. It was as if the hurricane season of Florida had not only exported its rhyme, but all of its storms:

After Ana, Bill and Claudette, the twisting tail headed north, skirted Bermuda and aimed straight for the north Atlantic, round the Pentland Firth and down through the Moray Firth to blast Aberdeenshire.

That’s right. Not only were these storms of gale-force strength (in high summer a wind over 60mph is unusual, to say the least), but they came from the North. Poor battered plants in struggling northern gardens usually basking in an exquisite micro-climate of Icelandic and Scandinavian temperatures, were being blown to bits.

I digress only momentarily to explain that our countryman, Admiral Sir Francis Beaufort is responsible for giving us the scale of wind speeds that we currently use. It really hasn’t changed much since he standardized it in 1806. There’s been no need. Wind, from a gentle summer breeze that cools the romantic brow (3 to 6 knots, Beaufort 2) right through to a full hurricane-force gale greater than 73mph (64 knots, Beaufort 12) has a way of letting you know it’s there.

sheltering toad

Danny, Erika, Fred and Grace brought similar reminders: storm-force conditions injurious to plant, beast and Man. I even found a toad sheltering from the blast in a quiet niche. There seemed no let-up; no sign of a reprieve. Those of us who believed that the Earth was just playing a game, having us on, it would be Okay in another week… were in for a big surprise.

I planted a giant sunflower out of its (greenhouse seeded) pot in May, thinking how lovely the vision that, in a summer like 2005, 2004, 2001 or 1998 (‘Global warming’ years) it might set seed to feed finches by autumn.

By equinox it still hadn’t flowered.

It was so statuesque, so tall, so strong – its stem larger than the area I could encompass with my two hands. It was full of moisture and had responded with phenomenal growth. But no yellow petals.

October arrived. Swallows had long departed – they’d decided for the first time in twenty years that enough was enough. They’d lingered in Ultima Thule only long enough to hatch a single clutch. They left on a singular warm wind three weeks early. I should have known then we were in for more.

I thought things would change after the ‘equinoctial gales’. It is traditionally a time when, if summer has been a little less than kind, the burgeoning vines, the bending limbs, the fully laden branches of fruit and Nature’s bounty make up for all the hard work, lost sleep, missed opportunities: the promise is fulfilled, Mother Earth comes through in spades, the sun shines and all is forgiven. The warm earth brings forth ripened plums, pears and apples in abundance, even a choice late cherry or two.

Not last year.

Green tomatoes so abundant they were going out of style

True, there were Granny Smiths and Cox’s Orange Pippins lying waiting on apple boughs pruned close to a sheltering wall larger than any I have ever seen. Artichokes as big as squash; squash as big as pumpkin. But I had to bring them inside to ripen or they would have moulded in the wet. Green tomatoes so abundant they were going out of style. Zucchini had been under plastic all summer, keeping out the rain. A summer too wet even for zucchini to grow! that gives you an idea of how sodden the ground was. Victoria plums which love a moist year were hanging in abundance, but they were still green, and a few delicate pears – it is a little too northerly for pears here at the best of times – looked like shrunken castanets.

Granny Smiths & zucchini: bounty of summer 2009

There was a lot of green: lettuce, cabbage, parsley and spinach to die for, but not a lot of ripening. I am not usually an ungrateful person. But my expectation was bordering on exasperation.

Then suddenly, as if the weather elves had been napping and awoke in a frantic state of guilt at not having done their usual earth tending, October turned mild.

Roses bloomed, butterflies emerged from wall crevices, a dry shed, and sought out the late blossom of buddleia to stock up for overwintering. California poppies that thought they’d come to an alien planet, flowered and raised their faces to the sun.

And, lo and behold, my sunflower popped her first petal.

But the stratosphere wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot. She’d started, so she was going to finish.

I mentioned earlier that the Grampian mountain chain forms a barrier that usually holds back rain from the West. And last year, its barricading powers failed miserably. Not only did rain follow wind and wind follow rain, but the midges, the West’s most unmentionable tourist nightmare, followed piggy-back along the trail.

The swallows, great feeders of the heavens, had already gone; so nobody was scooping great mouthfuls of the little monsters in massive numbers. Wrens, robins and a few finches that weren’t busy feeding on grain, demolished a few, but the air was alive with them. Wind seems not to perturb these tiny insects: they hide under trees and reappear the minute it drops.

all birds huddle together for warmth

So, calm evenings in the late Northeast autumn were midge-rampant; not pleasant. No window of opportunity for a leisurely stroll in the balmy, breathless air. The blackbirds had it all to themselves.

Thing is, there was no evening birdsong. Most of the summer visitors had departed. And those that were still around were looking for winter habitat. Wrens can bundle together in numbers up to twenty-two in one disused nest. Body heat is the only thing that keeps out the cold. Wrens were doing a big business in re-roofing spring nests – for future reference.

There were other signs. I should have known.

Greylag geese feast on harvest leftovers

Greylag geese round here have become permanent residents. They like the mild winters, so I’ve heard. They top up and home in on a familiar sheltered waterhole; they feed to stuffing point in leftover barley and wheat in open, harvested fields and then head out a little north of here to overwinter. In previous winters, winters without snow, there have been geese still tucking in in open fields in early December. This last fall, all the grain had gone by late October.

And the geese were gone too.

In late October my drenched sunflower was looking a little the worse for wear, but she was still hanging in there. Her strong stem was sturdy enough to support loads of hungry finches, tits, songbirds.

Sunflower, drenched but philosophical

They used her as a stopping-off point between hedge and feeder-table. As if they hoped her yellow bedraggled petals would somehow unfold to present them with a miracle in fat black and white stripey seeds. It was not to be.

The rain succeeded. Not in taming her, but when her petals closed in late October – usually a (midsummer) sign that the head is transfiguring, metamorphosing, setting seed – they chose not to reopen. She bowed her head and became silent. She’d had enough.

November raged and birds were blown about. Humans and animals prepared for what was to come. Early December brought some sunny days, but there was a chill in the air that nobody could really pretend was unfamiliar.

And then, one week before Christmas, the snowflakes arrived. And they fell in great soft plops of Inuit 32-linguistic varieties. And they didn’t stop falling until every last man, woman, child, blackbird, wren, robin, chicken, fox, wildcat, deer, rabbit and stoat had felt every possible chill factor they were capable of bringing.

* * *

There isn’t much point in going into the blow-by-blow of how difficult it’s been. But it might be interesting to look at the overview.

Scotland isn’t traditionally a snowy place. I’ve explained why. It sits on the northern edge of the Atlantic Ocean in a latitude akin to Alaska, but with temperatures more normal for the 42nd parallel of the Pacific Northwest. Yes, there are storms which come and go in the three months of so-called Winter, and local government services are never ready for them; it’s a standing joke. They complain before it comes, don’t deliver enough salt or grit enough or clear enough if it does and then blame central Government afterwards for not warning them or providing enough funding in the first place. As if the weather were not God’s fault, but the Labor Government’s.

People in Northeast Scotland have over time grown weary of bureaucratic bickering, complaining and infighting. In country districts in particular, they just get out and get on with it: fend for themselves. Farmers with snow-ploughs attached to tractors clear country roads which large council ploughs can no longer access.

This last winter saw more hardship, more strenuous community togetherness, more help-thy-neighbor-like-thy-life-depended-on-it gestures to make up for every snowless winter or heat-blistered summer of the new millennium.

To backtrack a little: we’ve all heard of, or been made aware of the ways of El Niño.

El Nino tropical Pacific anomaly

Spanish for ‘male child’, colloq. the Christmas Child, El Niño was the anthropomorphic name given by Peruvian sailors around 1892 to a warm northerly Pacific current in winter time. It is produced by a weather anomaly combined with atmospheric pressure: Indonesia usually experiences huge amounts of rainfall in winter under low atmospheric pressure, while high pressure hovers over the dry coast of Peru. This cycle produces a westward flow of tropical trade winds.

When the pressures weaken, the trades do too and a period of warmer-than-average sea surface temperatures arise in the east-tropical Pacific Ocean around December, blown along the surface against weakening trade winds which churn its billowing mass into a lingering ‘entity’; the length of its stay can influence weather conditions across much of the globe.

In an El Niño year, warm surface water encouraged by lessening trades migrates east from Indonesia across the central Pacific to the coast of Peru and Ecuador, bringing tropical rains which would otherwise fall on Jakarta, Bali and Papua New Guinea. Not only does the warm water linger, but with weakened winds, it forms a dense mass of warm ocean that does not sustain plankton (which prefer cooler waters) and consequently the larger fish that feed on this resource. In an El Niño year, the high desert, the Altiplano can experience huge rainstorms, while Australia and India suffer from drought.

Recent meteorological interest has been piqued by the growing frequency of El Niño years and the apparent resultant extremes in temperature worldwide which occur the following summer. El Niños since 1982 have occurred so regularly that world attention has been focused, not only on their effect on mean summer temperature but on the fact that they may contribute to ‘global warming’.

Recent El Niños happened in 1986-1987, 1991-1992, 1993-1994, 1997-1998; and in 2002-2003, 2004-2005, 2006-2007 and 2009-2010.

For comparison, using mean world temperature data, the hottest years on record are, in order of maximum extreme temperature:

Red Admiral on autumn-flowering buddleia

1 2005, hottest on record since 1880
2 1998
3 2002
4 2003
5 2004
6 2001
7 1997
8 1990
9 1995
10 1999

These freak hot summers all happened within the last two decades. And nineteen of the hottest 20 years have occurred since 1980.

Notably, and possibly related to the gap of non-El Niño years since 2007, 2009 is not one of them!

What may be happening is that, with an erratic move away from climatic norm, weather patterns become reversed, unpredictable. Bottom line, for the weather man, a nightmare.

So back to the point. The year 2009 already marked the end of the hottest decade in history – or at least since they started measuring annual mean temperature. We are, of course eliminating Northern Scotland as a candidate here.

The winter of 2009-2010 will also go down in the history books, I suspect. Not just because Scotland was cut off from the rest of the world for virtually three months, but weather conditions everywhere were, shall we say, a little out of the ordinary.

Dickey Ridge in the Deep South, USA winter 2010

They had frozen citrus groves in Florida in January, snow in Georgia in February; and a big freeze in northern Virginia at New Year’s. Dickey Ridge (three miles south of Dickey Holler!) had an icestorm, windchill, winds of 50mph (Beaufort 9) which took the temperature down to 8ºF – that, for the Celsius Euros among us is minus 14ºC; and that’s the Deep Saw-uth.

This winter, Belgium had weather like Estonia; Estonia a brief snowfall like Guernsey. Scotland is the land of the deep freeze, British Columbia hasn’t had enough snow to support the Winter Olympics. Torrential rainfall in Sacramento, Monterey and Orange County exceeded seasonal maximum; Las Vegas had more rain in two days than in the entire previous year.

La Soufrière collapse - the 'Sulfurer' from Space (ISS photo)

⁃ Dare one touch on other phenomena, either closely or remotely related to earth changes? After the January 12th and 13th Richter 6.5 and 7.0 earthquakes of Eureka, California and Haiti respectively, probably not; save to mention that Etna is alive again, spewing out volcanic cloud and ash, Kamchatka’s twin volcanoes are active, as are the Chilean twins of Llaima and Pichillaima in the Temuco Lake District, despite an unseasonal cap of snow! And in the Windward Island chain, the Saint Vincent volcano, La Soufrière, the Sulfurer, collapsed last week.

We’re not experiencing anything out of the ordinary.

We’re just in the middle of a shakedown while Mother Earth gets herself ready for spring in the Northern Hemisphere. After all, we, her children, haven’t been behaving all that well these last two decades. So she’s entitled to shake her feathers like a tousled sea eagle and take a look round to see what else she can do to get us to pay attention. Weather is, after all, one of her mechanisms for that.

We decimate tropical rain forests, she sends less rain. We rape the desert for subterranean oil, she sends dust storms and African drought. We create huge whirlpools of plastic waste in the North Pacific Gyre trapping and killing earth’s most evolved sea mammals: it seems fitting that she should turn around and send us an oceanic anomaly to make us scratch our scientific heads in vain.

What’s in store for 2010?

If the Niño camp are right, and the winter of 2009-2010 is one of the ‘strongest’ El Niño seasons yet, then the summer which follows could outstrip all previous chart-topping statistics.

Snowless slopes for Vancouver's Winter Olympics

Let’s look on the bright side. Vancouver may not have had any snow to speak of, but Iowa and Idaho, Kentucky and Montana have had their fill. As has (Scotland and) the whole of the Eastern Seaboard from Virginia to Vermont: snow so deep and penetrating that the earth is going to be busy soaking it up, getting ready for new spring growth, filling riverbeds and lakes, dams and reservoirs.

Snow melts down at about a 10 to 1 ratio, meaning 10 inches of snow equals about one inch of water. One thing’s for sure: we’ll have water in abundance to get us ready for the growing season.

Perhaps that’s what Mother Earth has in store. If the summer of 2010 turns out to be another like those twenty hottest years on record, maybe she’s filling up her tanks; mustering inner reserves; getting ready to take us through some punishing temperatures.

I mentioned animal signs. We humans may have lost our ability to intuit what lies ahead, but the birds, wild animals, flora and fauna know a thing or two.

chickens dared to emerge in frozen snow, but didn't lay for weeks

Swallows left early last fall, as if they knew what was coming. The autumn bird chorus was minimal, to say the least. My few chickens stopped laying in the first week of December and, apart from one jewel of an egg that miraculously appeared (probably by accident) on Christmas Day, the little group of eight didn’t produce a single egg between them until last week. Even then, I think it was only the bright sunshine that shone warm during the day that got them motivated. They’re still pretty quick to get back inside their henhouse before five o’clock sunset. Temperatures outside right now are maintaining a solid two or three below zero.

I mentioned Kamchatka. In the darkest days of solstice – and even in subsequent weeks when January turned to February and the light began to return – temperatures in this part of Scotland were, as I said, more appropriate for Siberia than for an island on the Atlantic seaboard. In the second of three storms, four blackbirds fell off their tree limbs in the night and died. I found the body of a fifth frozen under one of the vehicles, as if she hadn’t had the strength to fly for cover. A greenfinch died in my hands from sheer exhaustion and inability to get enough seed in her crop before nightfall.

As I see it, the winter of 2009/2010 has brought out the best and the worst. At the height of the storms, kind neighbors with 4×4 vehicles ferried immobile snowbound waifs to shop for emergency groceries. Birds died, but hens are laying again and there is birdsong. It’s a signal spring is on the way. The pheasant population, usually set by surrounding farmers as fodder for guns in the Spring Shoot are feeding by day with my chickens, roosting by night in my frozen trees. Safety not only in numbers, but also in the non-shooting enclave.

Aconite petals are gleaming with frost, but their yellow is trying to shine.

They remind me of my sunflower. Beaten but unbowed, she made it through some of the harshest conditions ever to greet one of the girosol family. She stood all winter, too. She stands there still. No flower, no seed, but her stem as strong as a sapling.

If she can make it through, I guess some of the rest of us will, too.
©2010 Marian Youngblood