32 F/0 C on September 8, 2020

The storm came with a bang, so many bangs that Bear was terrified, and Teddy hid between my bed and the wall. Thunder snow can be cool, but this wasn’t. Between the smoke from the California fires and the incoming storm the day got so dark that my motion sensor lights in back lit up as I moved around in the yard covering plants That chore ended up taking most of the day and was a feat of major engineering. Thursday or Friday we’ll find out if it works.

The temps dropped 40 degrees in the space of two hours, and now I’m sitting here in wool socks, wool base layer and sweat shirt just like it was February or something. The snow is falling straight down, so wet and heavy it thinks it’s rain. So far the streets and lawns do, too. “Free water,” said my friend’s husband.

Tomorrow we’re expecting a high just above freezing, enough for me to uncover what I can, dry it out, and do it again.

You see, the problem is that I really love those beans. The plum tomatoes are starting to ripen and are very beautiful. Maybe nothing will make it. I know that I don’t really have much of a problem, and I wish I could send the moisture and the temps to California.

The best part of the day was when about a hundred sandhill cranes flew over me, calling to each other and filling the sky. I took it as a blessing. Maybe tomorrow Bear and I can go out where we can visit them.

36 thoughts on “32 F/0 C on September 8, 2020

  1. Oh No! Martha, I saw the snow on the news tonight – “Snowing in Colorado” and I thought of you and your beans. I hope they survive and that you at least win this battle vs nature. Of course you love those beans and it makes sense they are so well protected now. Now what will be, will be, but at least you tried! Thunder snow sounds ominous. Poor Teddy and Bear 😟

    • All the trees still have leaves. Branches are going to break all over the place. The way the snow is coming down, we’ll easily get a foot if it keeps up.

      OH well. Thanks for understanding my love for my beans. It’s probably a little crazy, but somehow they’ve helped me deal with this strange summer and all its imperatives. I always like them, but this summer I guess they’ve been a symbol of hope for me, a beautiful distraction and something that WORKED. ❤

      • Something that worked is huge this summer. And beans that have their own poems are very special and totally worth saving. Yeah, the leaves on the trees are going to make things worse. A foot of snow is just ridiculous. Glad you had your tea party already!! ❤️
        (I have a small flowering plant that won’t flower and it is currently in a time-out on our tiny deck. Maybe it needs a poem. Or it’s old – I’ve had it for at least 20 years. No snow forecast here – lucky plant)

          • My Bougainvillea is 6 years old and my Christmas Cactus is 20 years old. Both were gifts. They were both on the tiny deck (a covered deck) until recently when the cactus was allowed back inside when it started showing more signs of life. Ms. B still has more work to do. She was sprayed, watered and pruned. I check in daily. The rest is up to her. (I also have a philodendron that is 42 years old 😲 A gift from my college roommate who was a botany major)

  2. that is a crazy shift in weather, i’m guessing that it’s hard on all living things and hard to adjust to so suddenly. who knows what tomorrow will bring?

    • They’re covered. If it gets above freezing tomorrow, I’ll uncover them and dry their “clothes” and put them back on. Otherwise, I won’t know until it warms up. it’s going to be below freezing every night until Saturday.

  3. I’ve only experienced thunder snow once that I can recall. Please give Teddy a hug from me. He probably needs a little reassurance that you love him at least as much as the beans! I’d pick the tomatoes and let them ripen in the window – frozen they turn to mush and aren’t good for anything except compost. Perhaps the sun will come out and melt everything… I’m hoping.

    • Please keep hoping. I’ve covered the tomatoes. I guess at this point everything is kind of an experiment. Teddy’s here on the sofa, nice and warm beside me. ❤

  4. We ate a few home-grown tomatoes into August (end winter), Martha. We pull the plants out by the roots at the end of the season, and then we hang them upside down in a sunny space (inside) or outside under an eave (but they need wrapping in really freezing temperatures outside. They ripen on the vine. No idea if that works for beans.
    What a miserable day of snow for you and the beans. Good inside day with coffee, book or blog.

  5. One thing this epidemic has made me do is to think hard about the world as something that survives after I’m gone, and to plan for that. It strikes me that a predicted freeze is a little like that, except that you have to think of the world after the beans and tomatoes.

    • Yep. Exactly. Covering the beans (without much hope) made me realize how important that garden has been to me this summer. I don’t even especially like to garden, but when the pandemic hit, I had to plant seeds. I felt almost driven to — and then I love the beans. The garden has been one place where things “worked” and the beans have been my “friends” in their bean way.

  6. You had snow!! Oh my. It has been known to happen here, but we were spared the snow, just not the negative temperatures. I had to cover my garden with sheets, and a pillow case over my pot of strawberries, towels over flower pots. Even covered – the leaves on the zucchini and tomatoes are all withered, but the actual zucchini and tomatoes look okay. Everything is covered again tonight. We’re headed back up to the mid 20’s again, so I’m hopeful for one more week. Here’s hoping your beans tough it out!

  7. I’m loving the experience of tracking where you are going, and experiencing this storm. I started with the beans, maybe tomorrow more cranes. Cranes overhead a good omen. I love how engaged and magnetic and engaging the story is. It even has me bouncing a bit using versions of the same words, like they’re rolling around not stuck in the storm, though getting their own different experiences of themselves. Preparing, comfortable with the not-knowing. Beans and cranes…. (look forward to further)

  8. Yikes! I woke up this morning to the sound of the furnace (a surprise since I didn’t know anyone had turned it on), but it’s downright balmy here compared to there. 40 degrees in two hours is just plain nasty. I’ll go put on my raingear and head to work. Not that I’m wishing for snow in September, but I’d get a lot less wet if it were snowing.

    • We got way too much. I am not even sure I will make it through to the garage to get the snow shovel. I’m letting the dogs pack it down to the garage… 😀

  9. Sounds like you got more snow than we did. Most of the trees have about 3 inches, less on the well warmed surfaces, ground or paved. 30 degrees this morning. I may uncover later today if it warms enough. Hope your beans and tomatoes have made it through. I imagine Bear is happily rolling in the snow.

    • Bear is in bliss. It is about to start snowing again. It’s 30 here, too. I don’t know yet what I’ll do with the beans as covering them is complicated and the snow is probably keeping them warm. No idea. Possibly I’ll just let everything go until I know it’s over. Luckily our streets are just wet, not icy. My big task is going to be getting into the garage to get the snow shovel. I put it away for a tea party (so the yard would look pretty, right?)… What a crazy year…

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