It’s Friday morning now, and I’ve got a bit of time to catch up on the past few days. It’s been chilly and wet all right; it might be that we’re just getting a week-long cold snap, but right now it’s definitely feeling like winter’s come early this year.
Rained Tuesday during tofu delivery. Tuesday afternoon and evening was more of the same, mostly rain mixed in with some slushy snow/sleety stuff. By Wednesday morning, it had dropped back down to persistent drizzle, but the ground (and everything outside, really) was fully soaked. By the afternoon, the temperatures were enough above freezing that I made a quick trip to town for some wine and pre-thanksgiving treats. Along the way, I shot this picture of the South Anna River, where it goes over the dam. The low-lying fields near the river were covered with a shallow layer of standing water, and the dam was no more than a ripple beneath the swollen river.
When I was in town, we got a few minutes of real snow, big puffy white flakes blowing through the air, but the ground was too warm and wet for any accumulation.
Back at the Oax, I took these photos of our garden, where little is still growing except nearly indestructible kale and white ground cover cloth, which can give some of our cold-hardy crops just a few degrees of extra warmth. Although it looked like the sun was about to set, it actually wasn’t any later than 2 in the afternoon– it was just that kind of a day.
late November in Virginia– bare branches against a colorless sky.
Arriving home, I was pleased to see that someone had been stoking the fire. It’s unusual this time of year to keep a fire going all through the day and night, but it’s been necessary this year. Looking at this website for Charlottesville, it says that the average temperatures for this time of year are about 57 high and 37 low. Since last Sunday, we’ve been averaging about 40 degrees high, getting down into the high teens every night.
Thursday–Thanksgiving day–was no warmer, but at least the sun was shining. Mostly I was too busy with the holiday to do much observatin’, but I took this one photo of the trees just out in front of my house in the late afternoon, just to have some sort of reminder of the kind of day it was.
Last night was another cold one, and when went downstairs in the AM, the entire back yard was covered in frost. The way the morning light caught the frozen ground made it twinkle in a lovely manner, but I was unable to capture that particular effect in a photo.
With a bit of spare time, I went out for a quick morning walk, to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine. I actually really enjoy walking outside on mornings like this one, the sun bright in the sky and air cold enough to tromp around in a sweater and long undies and not get overheated. Now that the leaves have all fallen, I am back to enjoying the smooth graceful trunk curves of the big de-foliated beech trees around the property.
A few weeks back, I discovered a spot in the woods where an oak had fallen and splintered into many chunks. Each of the pieces was alive with oyster mycelium, and it seemed like as soon as we got decent conditions, there would be a big flush of oyster mushrooms. I was curious whether all the recent rain had brought any out, or whether it had been too cold. As it turned out, there was a bit of both. There were lots of shriveled frozen mushrooms, looking like they had tried to grow in the wet conditions, but the daily hard frosts have just been too much for them.
Despite the cold, the field up by the cemetery remains bright green. In fact, if I remember right from the early days of this journal, it stays pretty much that color all winter long.
A couple of weeks ago, the oldest member of Twin Oaks community died during the night. It was at once sad in that “someone we know and love has died” kind of way, and a relief in that “she had lived a long and full life and died swiftly without suffering” kind of way. I had to work during her funeral, so this was the first time I had seen her grave up at the cemetery. The ground all around the grave had been disturbed, and there was a lot of this effect, where slender pillars of ice push tiny clods of dirt an inch or so out of the ground. I first noticed this phenomenon years ago while walking the Appalachian Trail in Maine, and it never fails to impress me. I don’t really understand it (something about water expanding as it freezes), or understand why it happens in some places but not others, but it sure is cool looking.
A close-up of the tiny ice pillars
Walking on home, through the late November forest, long shadows pointing north despite the fact that it’s past 10:30 in the morning. We’re only a few weeks away from Winter Solstice, and you can definitely see that the sun isn’t getting all that high in the sky, even at noon.
And finally, returning to my back yard, where the ground remained frost-covered wherever it was still in the shade. It would be cool to do a time-lapse photo of the frost retreating as the sun climbs higher in the sky throughout the morning.