Showing posts with label global warming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label global warming. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

What happened to winter?

Weather changes are often a topic of conversation these days. No matter where we live, anyone who has had the privilege of having been around for a few decades or more can't help but notice that weather patterns are changing — seemingly at an accelerating rate. We don't need the warnings of meteorologists and scientists to verify that. However, their observations and statistics create an awareness that this is a global phenomenon.

Here in southern Ontario this winter has been punctuated by extremes and record-breaking warm temperatures. A lot of our weather has been coming from the southwest instead of the usual west and northwest. What was unusual about December was that it was more like a December from my childhood in the 60's. The temperature was a bit cooler than it has been in recent years and the most surprising thing was that we received a fair bit of snow. But then came January when our weather was more typical of March. During one extended warm period late in the month after all of the snow had melted, I saw a confused little sprout of Virginia waterleaf (Hydrophyllum virginianum) growing on the forest floor. This is definitely one of the earlier plants to emerge in the forests around our home, but typically it sprouts in the second week of April. The earliest I've ever seen it was at the end of the even warmer winter that we had in 20011/12 when it started sprouting on March 20th (yes, I keep track of these things!).

Near the end of January and over the first week of February winter briefly returned — as did the snow. That was great because Monika and I were on a 10 day holiday up on the Zaagiing (Bruce) Peninsula and were able to go snowshoeing every day except one when we had to abort our walk prematurely because of freezing rain.

Since our return the weather has been mostly more like what we would expect in April, with some record-breaking days where it hit the mid to high teens (high 50's to mid 60's in °F). Needless to say, the snow that we got at the beginning of the month quickly melted. The red-winged blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus) — always the first birds to return to this region from their winter migration — arrived on February 20th. Typically they arrive with a thaw in mid March. The earliest I've ever recorded their arrival was March 5th after the very warm winter of 2012. Overall, the winter of 2011/12 was warmer than this one with temperatures staying fairly consistently above freezing, even at night. There was also virtually no precipitation that winter and, with the significantly higher than normal temperatures and no snow to melt, we were in drought conditions by the end of April. However, that winter we didn't get the more extreme high temperatures that we have had this year.

This kind of weather can have significant negative consequences for the local ecosystem. For instance, a rapid thaw or rain while the ground is still frozen prevents the moisture from being able to soak into the earth where it is needed and instead it runs off into creeks and rivers, sometimes causing flooding and significant erosion. On the flip side, if the temperature suddenly drops and there is no snow cover to insulate the ground the frost can harm plant roots, seeds and hibernating animals.

The sprouting and leafing out of plants is regulated by temperature and/or length of daylight, depending on the species. Those plants that respond primarily to temperature can be fooled into sprouting or leafing out prematurely. During the late winter of 2012 the trembling aspens (Populus tremuloides) — the first trees to flower and leaf out in our region — started flowering on March 11th and then a brief cold snap a week or so later wiped out their flowers. Typically they flower late March to mid April. This year the buds started opening on February 27th! It usually takes a week or two for the catkins to fully emerge and start flowering, depending on the temperature. As of today they were already about half open. The temperature is expected to drop significantly for a few days. That means that there will be few if any trembling aspen flowers this year.

Marsh marigolds (Caltha palustris) prematurely sprouting in the forest today.

We've always had at least one pair of eastern phoebes (Sayornis phoebe) nesting around our home. They are a constant presence on the landscape during the warmer months and I love their soft gentle calls. They are also one of our earliest arrivals. Typically, they show up somewhere between the very end of March and the end of the first week of April. Last year we had a couple of unusual warm periods at the beginning and middle of March. The red-wings arrived a bit earlier than usual and the phoebes arrived shortly after them in mid March. Phoebes feed almost exclusively on flying insects and I was a bit concerned about this. Sure enough, we had another cold snap that lasted more than a week. It killed off all of the early flying insects. The phoebes tried to survive by eating insects off the ground, but the the ground quickly froze. Sadly, our pair of phoebes died as a result. The constant presence of their calls was really missed last year. I hope a new pair moves in this year.

Today, when I was out on my daily walk through the fields and woodlands around our home it was about 13°C (55°F) and there was a gentle warm moist south wind. In the woods to the south of us there is a spot where water bubbles up through the soil from deep in the earth. There's an orange-red slime that forms there because of the high iron content of the ground water in this area. What characterizes this spot is that it is warmer than the surrounding soil because the water deep down is warmer than the surface during the colder months. Consequently, this spot is often thawed when the surrounding area is frozen and it is also the first spot where some of forest plants that like a lot of moisture sprout in the spring. Today the marsh marigolds started sprouting there. Typically, they start sprouting around the same time that the trembling aspens go into flower (late March to mid April), but in this spot they tend to sprout a week to ten days earlier — mid to late March.

As I was returning home this afternoon the wind started to shift from the south to the southwest and cool down a bit. It is expected to shift to the northwest later this evening and drop to around -7°C (19°F) — quite a drop! That is unfortunate for the trembling aspens and marsh marigolds.

What can we learn from this? These are warning signs that we ignore at our peril! Weather changes are a more obvious manifestation of what is happening all around us. The weather is very present and volatile, and speaks loudly. We all notice it, but it is so easy to return to status quo when things go back to what looks like "normal." What we have forgotten is what indigenous people have always known — life is about the quality of our relationships.

Healing is also about the quality of our relationships — with our self, our family, our community, our society, the plants and animals that we share this world with, the Earth, and Nature as a whole. The Anishinaabe word for medicine is mashkiki, which I have read literally means "strength of the earth." How appropriate! Everything is interconnected. The path of our personal healing necessitates that we work to bring back into balance all of our various layers of relationship. This requires humility, love, compassion, empathy, forgiveness and gratitude. With that comes wisdom. Blame, anger, confrontation and hopelessness are not the answer. They perpetuate the disharmony in the world and distract us from our real work — which is on ourselves.

We all have our personal story which has led us to this moment, but in our hearts we all have the same needs. Most of the land owners, corporate heads, politicians and other people who are "leaders" in our society have bought into a story that isn't real. What they need most is our prayers of love and healing, and positive example. As each of us does our best to live our life in a good way we create ripples through society and the world. We can change the world — by changing ourselves and moving in the world in balance and harmony — one step at a time!

Our many "elders" among the plant and animal people can help us to learn how to live in a good way
— if we listen!

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Happy Solstice ... And Other Stories!

Last Saturday was the winter solstice. Once more we acknowledged this sacred time in ceremony. For those of us who live in the Northern Hemisphere, it is not only the shortest day of the year, the end of fall and the beginning of winter, it is also the end of the natural year and the beginning of the new. It is such an incredible privilege to have been able to live in this awesome, mysterious world through another fall and another year, and to be able to greet the arrival of winter and the new year.

Normally I would post this on the day of the solstice, but this year the wisdom and mystery of this time brought a different teaching in the region where I live and I wasn't able to get online until yesterday. During the last few minutes of our ceremony it started to rain ... and it didn't stop until early Monday morning. Aside from the fact that rain is somewhat unusual in these parts at this time of year (although the winters have been getting warmer and rain more common in the last couple of decades), what was also different was that the temperature stayed steady around the freezing point. For two days the ice accumulated. Starting on Saturday evening, whenever I went outside I would hear a sharp crack and a huge branch would come crashing down about every 30-60 seconds . Every 5-10 minutes a tree would come down as well. I have never seen anything like it. By the end of it even tiny little blades of grass had 2-3 cm (about an inch) of ice on them!

The view from our front door Friday afternoon.

Although they are calling it an "ice storm", it wasn't very stormy. Just very calm with a gentle, steady rain. But by the end of it the devastation was incredible. It is with great sadness that I witness the harm that has come to the tree people where I live and in the surrounding region. The repercussions for our society in the area affected have also been profound. Hundreds of thousands of people were without power and, as I write this a week later, tens of thousands still are - including us!

The area a bit to the left of the previous photo.

I live in a rural area. Our driveway winds 300 metres through woods before you get to our house. Our power went out Saturday night when one of the falling trees snapped the power line. The power went out on the street where I live a short time later. The power on our street wasn't restored until Friday afternoon, but we won't get ours until at least the end of next week because that is how long it is going to take to get crews in here to trim the trees and fix the power lines. We had no electricity, heat or water (as we have a well) initially, but luckily my son Sean, who is an electrician apprentice, was able to find us a generator online (they are completely sold out or rented out within a couple of hours drive of the areas affected). The generator that we were able to get isn't a very powerful one. All we have hooked up is the furnace and the lights and plugs in two rooms. Just in time too! By the time he got it hooked up on Wednesday morning it was a couple of degrees above freezing in our house. The whole situation was exacerbated by the fact that on Tuesday we went into a deep freeze while about half of the people affected still didn't have their electricity restored.

The view behind our home. As a reference point, the large white pines in the background are about 20-25 metres tall.

In spite of the destruction, when we walked through the fields after the storm everything looked so magical coated in thick ice and glistening in the sunshine. I couldn't take any photos at that time because the batteries were dead in both of my cameras. I wasn't able to charge them until Thursday. The photos I have provided were taken Friday afternoon. By that time some of the ice had melted and everything was covered by a fresh blanket of snow that fell on Thursday.

As devastating as these natural disasters are, they are part of the natural cycle of things. They provide a means of transformation and renewal. Traditional peoples understood this. However, in our modern society we are over-populated and we attempt to build permanent homes and infrastructure. We have created a situation where we are usually at odds with natural rhythms and cycles in order to maintain our lifestyle. We also tend to think too short-term and don't have very much resilience or adaptability built into how we do things. We tend to put most of our eggs in one basket (like petroleum).

A Canada goldenrod stalk (Solidago canadensis) reinforcing a significantly larger column of ice.

Living through this has provided me with some very powerful teachings. We currently live in a home that I rent in a rural area just north of Toronto. It's a moderate size home by today's standards (probably about 3,000 square feet). My kids each have a bedroom plus I run classes and clinics out of our home. One room is a designated classroom and I also have a consultation room and my working office. Nevertheless, I feel the weight of having to have so much space and stuff. A short distance south of me there are endless new subdivisions where even the townhouses are 1,500-2,000 square feet. Semis are 2,000-2,500 and detached homes can be anywhere from 3-6,000 square feet. Then there are the luxury "communities" which are completely over the top. There is even one subdivision a short distance west of me where the "homes" are 8-15,000 square feet. Personally I think that this is insane! I grew up in an older suburb of Toronto where most families did just fine in 1,000-1,500 square feet bungalows which only took up a small portion of their lots. There was lots of green space, kids played outside most of the time, and everyone knew their neighbors. This storm was rough for me, but I can't imagine what it would be like in one of those monster homes without electricity. I hope that they learned something from this too!

I look forward to a time in the next year or two when I will move further out into the country to a smaller place that is more manageable along with some close friends. We are part of an intentional community that has been developing over the last few years. We still haven't found the right land, but hope to soon. Although I'm going to be roughing it for a bit longer, I'm extremely grateful for the lessons that I've learned from my current circumstances about important ways to build more flexibility and resilience into my home, and for the importance of community. I would not have been able to manage without the help of family and friends.

As always, as I walk the land I am always observing what's going on. I'm paying careful attention to how the land responds to these conditions. I've learned a lot about the ability of the many species of trees that live on the land where I live to be able to withstand an ice storm. Some species were only affected in a minor way. Others were devastated. Since we are expected to experience more of these kinds of weather events in the coming years, this is important information in terms of what trees we decide to plant in the future. I haven't had the opportunity to explore every corner of the land due to falling branches and ice, but this is what I've found so far starting with the species that are the most resilient and working down to those that were the most damaged: Norway spruce (Picea abies) > white spruce (Picea glauca) > eastern hemlock (Tsuga canadensis) > balsam fir (Abies balsamea) > tamarack (Larix laricina) > red pine (Pinus resinosa) > white pine (Pinus strobus) > black walnut (Juglans nigra) > sugar maple (Acer saccharum) > rock elm (Ulmus thomasii) > white cedar (Thuja occidentalis) > ironwood (Ostrya virginiana) > pin cherry (Prunus pensylvanica) > chokecherry (Prunus virginiana) > high-bush cranberry (Viburnum opulus) > common buckthorn (Rhamnus cathartica) > red oak (Quercus rubra) > white ash (Fraxinus americana) > red maple (Acer rubrum) > hawthorn (Crataegus spp.) > American beech (Fagus grandifolia) > American elm (Ulmus americana) > Eastern cottonwood (Populus deltoides) > silver maple (Acer saccharinum) > white willow (Salix alba) > paper birch (Betula papyrifera) > trembling aspen (Populus tremuloides) > blue beech (Carpinus caroliniana) > yellow birch (Betula alleghaniensis) > American basswood (Tilia americana) > black cherry (Prunus serotina) > peachleaf willow (Salix amygdaloides) > Manitoba maple (Acer negundo) > Siberian elm (Ulmus pumila). Of course, this is only the result from one storm with no wind, and many of the trees around me are relatively young to medium age. Other storms might produce slightly different results, but this is still very useful information.

Here we have motherwort (Leonurus cardiaca) similarly encased in ice.

There is also the much bigger picture. Due to global warming, the area where I live is expected to get more ice storms, more violent thunder storms, more tornadoes, and more extremes of weather in other ways such as years of drought and years of excessive rain (last year Toronto experienced its heaviest rainfall and worst flooding on record). This is going to be the new norm, not just here, but pretty much everywhere. As much as we may empathize with other people when we hear about various natural disasters in the news, it's not the same as when it happens in our own backyard. By now most of us have experienced natural disasters first hand, or at least have family or friends that have. It is my hope that this and other similar occurrences will help us all to wake up and realize that the way we are living is unsustainable. If we don't act on a major scale very soon, the world that our children and grandchildren inherit is going to be a very different and challenging place.

Getting back to the solstice, I would like to send out prayers of healing at this sacred time to all of the people of the world. I hope that this will be a year of greater healing and wisdom; that we will begin to open our hearts more fully and tread the long and difficult path necessary to help create a more balanced, harmonious and sustainable future.