Snow

It rained most of Wednesday afternoon.  Just hours before, Baldo had helped us with the last of the autumn gardening chores:  moving bonsai into shelter, packing away the umbrellas, covering furniture, cleaning up leaves.  A few had started to fall.  Yes, we know about "leave the leaves," but the sand cherry leaves carry black spot spores from this summer's infestation.  To control the fungus, the leaves have to go.  

Still, the garden looked surprisingly un-Novemberish.  Only the week before it had been 84°.  The Salvia were blooming prolifically, bees were flitting around, an occasional butterfly would work the guara.  There was even a single blossom on the desert willow in front.  The Chinese pistache was loaded with fruit and pretty much had 90% of its canopy.  Some red was beginning to show in its upper leaves.  The Wisteria was only beginning to turn.  The bonsai Gingkos under the tree were just barely changing to their  seasonal lemony yellow.  

We adjusted Fluffy's bedding under the table and battened down the tarp that protected it.  Last week's rain had dampened everything.  Now it was much more water resistant.  She, of course, was nowhere to be seen while we worked on her "nest" and Baldo used the yard vacc.  

It rained into the evening.  We went to bed listening to the sound on the roof of much needed rainfall.  

About 3:00 I awoke, as I am prone to do.  I checked on the backyard through the sunroom windows and was astonished to find 3" of heavy snow weighing down the bamboo and sand cherries.  The two-story house behind us--normally well screened by foliage--was clearly revealed.  

A quick look out the side window revealed more bamboo bent under the white stuff.  But the scene out the front was most surprising.  

The desert willow was crippled under the weight, bent to half it's height.  Surely there would be broken branches galore.  The snow was continuing to fall heavily and a check of the Weather Underground website showed us to be in the middle of a large area of winter weather.  Looking at the NM DOT road map showed closed roads in all directions except south.  Traffic cams showed snow-packed highways empty of vehicles.  

At least we were warm and dry.  Fluffy would be hunkered down safely in her warm bed under the table.  The trees would have to wait until morning.  

And in the morning there was snow shoveling to be done straight away.  If it wasn't removed, a single footprint or tire track would turn to ice and remain for days in the permanent shade on the northside of the house.  

Caro used a broom to knock the snow off the desert willow.  Some branches eased up as the weigh came off, but others were found to be broken.  Most of the problems were high in the canopy where two top branches will have to have the damage pruned away.  

Caro continued the wet work of knocking the snow off the bamboo and sand cherries.  Only a couple minor breaks were found.  Remarkably, the Chinese pistache escaped without problem.  

I cleared the snow out of some areas so Fluffy wouldn't have to walk through snow to get around the yard.  She was skittish and was obviously put off by the sudden snowfall.  

As the day progressed, we learned that thousands of people, including many of our friends, were without power.  Downed tree branches took down powerlines throughout the city.  After PT I stopped by Debbie's house... she had been without power since midnight.  I dropped off a "brick" for charging her phone and Kindle.  In her backyard, a huge ash tree had split and one half fell into her swimming pool.  The tree can't be saved and will have to removed.  

As I drove home down Rio Grande Blvd., the scale of the damage was manifest.  Crews were clearing downed branches everywhere along the road.  At the Flying Star, a drift of golden leaves on the shoulder was the result of many branches breaking under the heavy first snowfall.

With a little sunshine and slightly above freezing temperatures, the snow disappeared.  But the damage was done.  Debbie's power came on briefly, only to go out when the neighborhood transformer exploded under the surge.  She's been in the dark for over 24 hours as I type this.  PNM's website says she'll get power by 7:00 a.m.  

It's still cloudy and so not expected to go much below freezing tonight.  As the storm clears away tomorrow, we'll see the nighttime temperatures crash.  Trees that hadn't lost their leaves will probably have them freeze in place, a brown reminder that fall was too late in leaving and winter came too quickly.  Abscission layers hadn't fully formed and the work of scavenging nutrition before leaf drop hadn't been completed.  The cold season may be ugly.  

I worry about the Botanic Garden.  It had been glorious only a two days before.  The usual suspects had been in the Cottonwood Gallery taking Nature's Notebook observations in Monday's cold rain.  Afterwards we walked through the Japanese Garden where the plants were showing their best autumn colors.  

How many branches have broken there last night?  The ash trees along the main path may have suffered the same fate as Debbie's tree.  Their canopies were just as full.  The cleanup will be massive.  The damage to River of Light displays may be considerable.  

I may still be disheartened by Tuesday's election results, but I'm reminded that Nature always prevails.  The GOP with their denial of climate change, their refusal to make evidence-based decisions, and their policy of replacing experts with loyalists will reap a harsh reward.  Sadly, it is their own voters in vulnerable Red states would will take the brunt of flash floods, hurricanes, tornados, rising sea levels, and severe weather.