The Daily: 17 February 2025

There’s almost four feet of snow on my garden now. And a “major nor’easter” to hit midweek. I am not sure how the past weekend’s nor’easter was not major, given that it snowed more or less continuously from Saturday afternoon to this morning. (It is probably still snowing as some of you read this.) There was no wind. Maybe that’s the difference.

It was also very cold to be dumping this much snow. In past times, cold air could not hold this much moisture. But these days it is so warm in the lower latitudes that the air is sucking up the sea. There is also enough heat to move a storm cell across the entire North American continent without depleting the storm’s energy or moisture. In any case, a storm that was supposed to maybe drop 13″ on central Vermont ended up dumping nearly two feet.

I asked one of my weather nerd friends why the forecasts are so wrong, why humans are not correcting machines that have their electronic brains stuffed with bad data from days when there wasn’t so much heat in the atmosphere. She said that in some cases there are no humans watching now. But mostly this is a case of being reticent, not wanting to spread alarms either for personal reasons or, more often, because their various employers are telling them to tone it down, to not spread panic, to not even hint that climate is changing in real time, and, above all, to not say anything that might keep people safe at home where they are not doing wage work or spending money.

I can’t help but think that being the community alarm system is the exact and only point to weather forecasting. If you have to insert politics between accurate predictions and those of us counting on those predictions then you need to change your politics. Or just stop pretending that you are actually talking about real weather.

But I’ve said enough about this now. I’m done. In many ways…

I will say just one more thing… because I can’t say it enough. Pay attention. Pay attention to what is happening in your part of the world and write that down. If you are able, share that information with others around you. We need accurate data gathering so that we can eventually get back to accurate weather forecasting.

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I spent the weekend — am actually still spending it as today is a federal holiday in the US — holed up in my house. I cleaned and organized things and did the laundry. I cooked soup and baked bread and made the week’s yogurt, all of which warmed the house. I moved furniture again because that is just something I do. And I started putting away winter stuff. This is a bit early, but it felt like time. I rather feel like all this snow is my fault because I’m still focused on the present cold. Maybe if I start looking toward the future thaw it will happen sooner. I’ll let you know how that works out…

I have not yet shoveled the back walk. That is a project for today. But this time I’m not digging down to the ice at the base. This “major nor’easter” coming up is also supposed to bring record-breaking cold, so ice will not melt this week even if I spread salt on it. In times like this, I leave a couple inches of snow because snow provides better traction than ice.

It’s also prettier, and I need pretty right now. All this grey weather and sludge is getting me down. We’ve seen the sun a little now and then, but I’ve been stuck in the office for many of its brief appearances. Then, last week my elderly neighbors decided to seriously uglify the neighborhood.

They have lived in their house for over fifty years. There were enormous maples all around the house, some older than the 19th century house. So many beings made their home in those trees. The one in front of the house, in particular, was delightful. A glorious sugar maple. In the early spring, red squirrels and flocks of redpolls would cover the tree, nibbling at the swelling buds and breaking off twigs to let the sap run and freeze into sapsicles. It also provided shade and windscreen for both their house and mine, and blocked the over-bright lights on the church parking lot at the bottom of the hill, lights that now shine directly into my bedroom.

You will notice the use of past tense…

In their defense, the trees were old and shedding bits regularly. It was probably only a matter of time before something large smashed into a porch roof or obliterated a car. Maybe even a grandchild. And, as I said, they are getting old. It is hard to break up the limbs and haul the mess to the ravine on the other side of my garage, where all yard waste (and the odd Christmas tree) gets dumped.

But instead of cutting out the rotting bits, the tree service hired to make this all safe cut down all the trees. Four huge trees. Gone.

The front yard went first. That one I had some advance warning on, but it was still sad to come home to detritus-covered snow and a blank spot in my life. I loved that tree. It was a beautiful being. It made this part of the neighborhood vibrant. It was a person in my life, filled with thousands of other little persons, not all of whom I loved but all of whom made up part of my home. And now it’s all gone.

The back yard came as a total surprise a few days later. I came home on Friday and noticed a thick scattering of wood chip and sawdust debris all over my back yard. I first blamed squirrels. (It’s always squirrels.) But then I noticed that the grack also coated my porch walls and the window screens. And as I was looking at that, and shifting the blame away from squirrels, I looked up and noticed that there were no longer any trees in the back of their house.

In many ways, this is worse than the front yard. The back yard trees were nesting sites for many winter birds such as chickadees and juncoes and night roosts for the crows. Most of the squirrels that plague this side of the road also lived up there. Guess where they are now… In my cedars. As a further annoyance, there is now nothing screening the view to the waste bins and muddy parking area shared by four houses behind mine, all of which have been turned into multi-unit apartment buildings. There are so many cars and so much filth. It’s not a restful sight. And this is all that can be seen now out my kitchen window. I stand there washing the dishes and just feel depressed.

Of course, this has completely changed my jungle remediation project. The trees over there are the last big ones in the neighborhood. I can’t take even one down now because that would mean depriving homes to so many birds and small animals. I might cut down some of the dead things that are leaning precariously and will fall soon anyway. But there’s no enlarging the garden, no more fruit trees, no greenhouse — unless I tear down the garage.

On the other hand, maybe I can plant the squash seeds I bought in the bank in front of my house, that which was formerly too shaded for much of anything. I also bought a few more large plants to shore up the area closest to the maple. Now that the tree is gone, I’m afraid of increasing erosion. There’s not even grass on my neighbor’s side. It’s mostly exposed soil with a few scraggly annuals on the bank itself. I’m sure that’s not going to end well.

So that’s the news for this week. Been hard to stay positive. But the house looks and smells nice inside. Maybe I’ll just stay in here forever…

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Today is St Finan’s day. Finan was a 7th century bishop of Lindisfarne. Among many building projects, he oversaw the construction of an enormous cathedral in the Irish fashion with hewn oak and thatching. He also was the person principally responsible for converting the Saxons. One might think that this would earn him a certain measure of respect. But do you know his name?

Finan fought to preserve the Celtic Church against the encroachment of consolidation under Rome. This brought him no little misfortune as those down south sought to eradicate all parochial influences. Finan did not live to see the worst. He died peacefully on this date in 661 and was buried in his beloved Lindisfarne. Three years later the monks were ejected from the island for the grievous sin of being too rooted in their own culture.

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©Elizabeth Anker 2025