...well, since at least 2,600 hours ago. (And no, of course I didn't expend valuable mental energy calculating that when there are websites that will do it for me.)
Two fronts rolled through here this afternoon, bringing rain, and then a much longer and harder rain shower with a lot of thunder and lightning to accompany it. At 6 pm, we had as much (or more) water running in front of our house as we did during the floody weekend of May 1.
No complaints, mind you. We had a couple weeks of 100+ degree days and zilch for rain those days. Made me wonder if we had been transported back to Oklahoma just in time for the annual August heat wave. So I'm grateful for today's deluge, even though it comes too little and too late for poor Alberta Spruce (aka Victim #4) which has indeed bit the dust and looks like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
Speaking of Christmas, it'll soon be time for our friendly family competition: we all start listening to commercials to see who hears the first Christmas commercial of the season. The Rockettes have historically been first out of the gate, but with Opryland's flooding problems last May, who knows if they'll be in town this year? We will be going to see Straight No Chaser at TPAC next month; wonder if they will do their Twelve Days of Christmas?
Showing posts with label storms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label storms. Show all posts
Aug 21, 2010
Jun 26, 2010
Rose pruning 101
Question: "When is the best time to prune a rugosa rose?"
Answer: "Anytime the pruners or loppers are in your hands." (Just don't prune immediately before first frost, or you'll risk new growth being instantly killed.)
This was my poor overgrown 'Sarah Van Fleet' before:
And this was her after:
I quickly discovered that bees (yay) Japanese beetles (yuck) and yellow jackets (yikes!) all like her, so as I lopped and pulled off each branch, I had to contend with her extremely sharp thorns, and also with the swarm of flying things that came out with the branch. Fortunately I suffered no stings and only one gash on the thigh for my efforts.
There's also a lesson in there about heeding the available horticultural information before planting. She's a big girl and most references say she gets at least 4-8 feet tall and a good 4-5 feet wide. I put her in a position where she can only get about 3 feet wide (We were easing around her to get into the garden.) And for aesthetics, I'd rather keep her at a 3-4 height.
Fortunately, rugosas have two things going for them:
1) they can be severely pruned just about any time of year; and
2) they are disease resistant, so her crowded quarters had not led to a nasty outbreak of blackspot.
Lesson learned: From now on, I will prune her each spring on to avoid having to do that again.
The worst part of the exercise was the extreme humidity. My clothes were DRENCHED in minutes, even though the work was not exactly strenuous. After I got the rose trimmings hauled off to the burn pile, I worked on my daylily bed for a bit, where at least it was shady. That bed is now in a little better shape (I am not a fastidious gardener, sad to say), and some Crocosmia bulbs have been planted among the daylilies. I don't know if they'll bloom yet this year, since they were planted so late - but we'll see.
A late afternoon storm blew in and knocked out power to almost all of the 'boro. There are 25 stoplights between here and Oakland High School, where the daughter was swimming before the storm. My fellow 'boro residents have no idea how to proceed through an intersection without a functioning traffic light, so it was a lesson in frustration. At least it was temporary - by the time we headed for home the lights were back on.
Answer: "Anytime the pruners or loppers are in your hands." (Just don't prune immediately before first frost, or you'll risk new growth being instantly killed.)
This was my poor overgrown 'Sarah Van Fleet' before:
And this was her after:
I quickly discovered that bees (yay) Japanese beetles (yuck) and yellow jackets (yikes!) all like her, so as I lopped and pulled off each branch, I had to contend with her extremely sharp thorns, and also with the swarm of flying things that came out with the branch. Fortunately I suffered no stings and only one gash on the thigh for my efforts.
There's also a lesson in there about heeding the available horticultural information before planting. She's a big girl and most references say she gets at least 4-8 feet tall and a good 4-5 feet wide. I put her in a position where she can only get about 3 feet wide (We were easing around her to get into the garden.) And for aesthetics, I'd rather keep her at a 3-4 height.
Fortunately, rugosas have two things going for them:
1) they can be severely pruned just about any time of year; and
2) they are disease resistant, so her crowded quarters had not led to a nasty outbreak of blackspot.
Lesson learned: From now on, I will prune her each spring on to avoid having to do that again.
The worst part of the exercise was the extreme humidity. My clothes were DRENCHED in minutes, even though the work was not exactly strenuous. After I got the rose trimmings hauled off to the burn pile, I worked on my daylily bed for a bit, where at least it was shady. That bed is now in a little better shape (I am not a fastidious gardener, sad to say), and some Crocosmia bulbs have been planted among the daylilies. I don't know if they'll bloom yet this year, since they were planted so late - but we'll see.
A late afternoon storm blew in and knocked out power to almost all of the 'boro. There are 25 stoplights between here and Oakland High School, where the daughter was swimming before the storm. My fellow 'boro residents have no idea how to proceed through an intersection without a functioning traffic light, so it was a lesson in frustration. At least it was temporary - by the time we headed for home the lights were back on.
Jun 2, 2010
Now THAT'S a rain storm
Daughter and I headed to Smyrna about 6:20, thinking we'd catch a quick bite at Sonic, then head to Highland Heights for the Summer Bible Vacation open house. As we headed north, the sky looked really dark...even though it was clear and sunny no less than half an hour before that, when I came FROM Smyrna, after spending a day putting the finishing touches on things.
But we are plucky girls and we plowed ahead. Before our exit, the wind kicked up..a sign of things to come. Just as we exited I-24, the rain began pelting us. Big drops. Bad sign. But still, forward we went. I decided we wouldn't stop at the Sonic off the interstate, but go around to the on the other side of town, hoping to beat the rain. Bad idea.
A mile down the road, the rain was so heavy that it became difficult to see the road. A minute later, it was literally impossible to see the road. It was like being in a demon-possessed car-wash with hail thrown in for good measure. Cars slowed to a crawl, then stopped. On the road. In their tracks. We crept to the side of the road, hoping we wouldn't run off said road in the process, flipped on the emergency blinkers and waited it out. I called my husband to let him know where we were. (You know, just in case we pulled a "Wizard of Oz" meets "Twister" move or something.) I could barely hear him over the rain beating the car. In all my years of driving, I've pulled over a few times, because of heavy rain, but I'd have to say I've never had to pull over because I absolutely could not see the road for the rain. It's a scary thing to drive blindly and hope you don't hit anything.
Five minutes later, it was still raining hard, but at least there was enough visibility to make out the lines on the road as the wipers cleared the windshield.
We slowly made our way to the other Sonic, placed our order and then listened to the second wave of the storm pound the roof overhead. Wow. By the time we woofed down our food and made our way to the church building, the rain had almost stopped. Several people mentioned another front was approaching but we never heard it inside, if it did rain again.
What was I saying earlier this week about spring rains being a thing of the past? Apparently my prognostication skills are as accurate as ever. Four out of the last five days have brought showers - or storms. Tomorrow has a 40% chance of precip. I don't think I'll take up meteorology as a new avocation.
But the open house went smashingly well. People were overheard arguing over which room is their favorite. Teens and adults were bemoaning the fact they are no longer age-eligible to participate in VBS. Our teachers were glowing with pride, and our guides were grinning like possums, because they know they're in for a real treat this summer. I'm hoping that doesn't mean we'll have too many volunteers next year...but it might. (Then again, my prognostication skills are...well, sketchy at best.)
But we are plucky girls and we plowed ahead. Before our exit, the wind kicked up..a sign of things to come. Just as we exited I-24, the rain began pelting us. Big drops. Bad sign. But still, forward we went. I decided we wouldn't stop at the Sonic off the interstate, but go around to the on the other side of town, hoping to beat the rain. Bad idea.
A mile down the road, the rain was so heavy that it became difficult to see the road. A minute later, it was literally impossible to see the road. It was like being in a demon-possessed car-wash with hail thrown in for good measure. Cars slowed to a crawl, then stopped. On the road. In their tracks. We crept to the side of the road, hoping we wouldn't run off said road in the process, flipped on the emergency blinkers and waited it out. I called my husband to let him know where we were. (You know, just in case we pulled a "Wizard of Oz" meets "Twister" move or something.) I could barely hear him over the rain beating the car. In all my years of driving, I've pulled over a few times, because of heavy rain, but I'd have to say I've never had to pull over because I absolutely could not see the road for the rain. It's a scary thing to drive blindly and hope you don't hit anything.
Five minutes later, it was still raining hard, but at least there was enough visibility to make out the lines on the road as the wipers cleared the windshield.
We slowly made our way to the other Sonic, placed our order and then listened to the second wave of the storm pound the roof overhead. Wow. By the time we woofed down our food and made our way to the church building, the rain had almost stopped. Several people mentioned another front was approaching but we never heard it inside, if it did rain again.
What was I saying earlier this week about spring rains being a thing of the past? Apparently my prognostication skills are as accurate as ever. Four out of the last five days have brought showers - or storms. Tomorrow has a 40% chance of precip. I don't think I'll take up meteorology as a new avocation.
But the open house went smashingly well. People were overheard arguing over which room is their favorite. Teens and adults were bemoaning the fact they are no longer age-eligible to participate in VBS. Our teachers were glowing with pride, and our guides were grinning like possums, because they know they're in for a real treat this summer. I'm hoping that doesn't mean we'll have too many volunteers next year...but it might. (Then again, my prognostication skills are...well, sketchy at best.)
Jan 20, 2010
The fickleness of January
Winters here in the Midsouth are mercurial in nature, and blessedly short (at least compared to regions north and west of us.) January can bring bitter cold and snow one week, springlike temperatures (and a spring-esque thunderstorm) the next; in fact one is rolling through right now, complete with thunder and lightning.
But I know better than to let this week of warmer temps fool me - winter isn't through with us, even though we're almost through with January. (Wow - one month down already? We'll blink and it'll be fall again.)
This time of year, there's much to do. The seed catalogs are starting an urgent drumbeat: it's time to make the final selections for okra, lettuce, tomato and pepper seeds for the year, and get in orders for onion sets and potatoes. A ski trip next weekend to Perfect North will wrap up the month, and then it's on to Groundhog's Day, Valentine's Day, a few more ups and downs on the thermometer and we'll bid February a fond adieu, too.
March will usher in the start of gardening in earnest - planting peas and setting out cool season crops, and start hardening off the tomato and pepper seedlings for later in the month.
Last year's garden was a complete bust. I set out tomato plants I drove to Jackson to buy from Marianna's Heirloom Tomatoes, and then I walked away, doing almost nothing with them. I'm ashamed I gave my neighbor too much leeway in my psyche last year, but he and his Roundup sprayer apparently had a blast near my flower and herb border two summers ago, and I still see red every time I think about finding dry, crunchy stalks instead of dahlias and roses and thyme.
But I'm determined to shake off the funk and take back my garden spot this year, mentally and physically. I am longing for fresh-from-the-garden vegetables and just-picked bouquets for my table, and a pantry full of jars of tomatoes, pickles and jams next fall. So maybe I'll also get some to-the-point "don't spray" signs to post along the fence...
But I know better than to let this week of warmer temps fool me - winter isn't through with us, even though we're almost through with January. (Wow - one month down already? We'll blink and it'll be fall again.)
This time of year, there's much to do. The seed catalogs are starting an urgent drumbeat: it's time to make the final selections for okra, lettuce, tomato and pepper seeds for the year, and get in orders for onion sets and potatoes. A ski trip next weekend to Perfect North will wrap up the month, and then it's on to Groundhog's Day, Valentine's Day, a few more ups and downs on the thermometer and we'll bid February a fond adieu, too.
March will usher in the start of gardening in earnest - planting peas and setting out cool season crops, and start hardening off the tomato and pepper seedlings for later in the month.
Last year's garden was a complete bust. I set out tomato plants I drove to Jackson to buy from Marianna's Heirloom Tomatoes, and then I walked away, doing almost nothing with them. I'm ashamed I gave my neighbor too much leeway in my psyche last year, but he and his Roundup sprayer apparently had a blast near my flower and herb border two summers ago, and I still see red every time I think about finding dry, crunchy stalks instead of dahlias and roses and thyme.
But I'm determined to shake off the funk and take back my garden spot this year, mentally and physically. I am longing for fresh-from-the-garden vegetables and just-picked bouquets for my table, and a pantry full of jars of tomatoes, pickles and jams next fall. So maybe I'll also get some to-the-point "don't spray" signs to post along the fence...
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