Wind, Flood, Drought, Fire, and Ice
These are the movers and the shakers of the ecosystem. Put that way, one feels that earthquake and landslide should be added to the list. Natural disasters are the elements run amok. If looked at as vectors or dimensions of the ecosystem, each one at the gentle end of its scale is something benign and inviting. But when nature says it's enough, it's enough. You need to get out of the way.
*********************************************************************************************
Wind
As I sit here trying conjure words to portray them, I 'see' the wind. It starts out as the merest little breath, stirring my hair, drying my sweat in the hay field, bringing promise of a change in the weather. Leaves stir, whispering. Winds and windstorms that I have known dance in my memory. I hear the moan of the north wind as it wraps around the house in winter- no other wind sounds just like that.
Much as I might like an unmixed metaphor, I can't for the life of me keep from 'seeing' what the wind is carrying. Streamers of fog. Swirling snow. The first few drops of rain introducing a driving, drumming downpour. And my mind's eye carries me off in a wild chase after the wind, to see what it will play with next.
I've seen many hurricanes, but have never seen a full-blown tornado in real life. A few years ago, we started to have more wild weather. When the clouds really start to swirl, moving fast one way, then another- when you see them brake to a screeching halt and go off as quickly in another direction, you know you are seeing wind shear, and you know something very interesting is happening. It is usually at that point that I begin to flirt with the idea of how far out into the yard I want to be, and whether I need to have the door to the cellar open. The dog is a good barometer. If it is too wild out there, he stays put in the house and just watches the crazy human out playing with the wind in the yard. He knows lightning will send me back inside. And I know that if we ever have to go down into the cellar from inside the house, I will probably have to drag him down the steps. It hasn't come to that yet.
*******************************************************************************************************************************
Flood
When rain falls and starts to gather faster than it can sink into the ground or run off, water starts to rise. In dry times, this can be a reason for thanksgiving. Parched earth drinks deep and empty stream beds and ponds fill up. But rising water brings its own hazards proportionate to the event.
We have a little bit of this every year, at ice out. One year we took the kayak down to the brook on the last day of March. The banks were nearly free of snow, but the water was running high and fast. 2 people, 1 kayak, running along, laughing like loons, and arguing over who got to go next. We must have portaged 50 times in less than a mile, finally getting swamped and having to wade in the icy cold water. I don't know how we emptied out the boat, or how far we walked in wet clothes. We called it 'March Madness', and so it was.
I went down alone, another year, to see the conditions, and met a much more dangerous scenario. The snow was still quite deep, and arched over areas of high water. It was running so high that it was roaring, seeming close to shaking the ground. I had wanted to get close enough to photograph the flood, but I got a sick feeling, afraid to be standing over water of unknown depth. I got out of there, warned back by the power.
On August 28th, 2011, after ravaging islands and coasts from the Caribbean and up the Atlantic Seaboard, Hurricane Irene hit new England. Maine was spared the brunt of it, but almost every river and stream in Vermont flooded. On some farms, it washed cattle and hay away, damaged or destroyed buildings, eroded soil, washed away or contaminated crops. Wikipedia has an extremely long write-up on the progression of this monster storm. I haven't had opportunity to travel to Vermont since the event, but I have heard that erosion of soil hit many farms hard. When I lived in West Virginia, I saw high water almost every year. I recall Hurricane Agnes in New York State in 1972, but what Irene did is unparalleled in my experience. I had purchased flood insurance in 2010, and plan on renewing it annually. When the flood waters come, you get out of the way.
******************************************************************************************************************************
Drought
There are times in the life of the farm when things are so waterlogged that you pray for the sun, and an end to mold and mildew; when you change clothes every time you come in because you are soaked to the skin. After such a monsoon season, sunshine and dry weather are cause for celebration. But this can progress past the comfort zone. Pastures turn from green to brown, as the grass goes dormant. Soil progressively parches, and garden plants begin to wither. You mulch, you irrigate, and you pray. And you watch the brooks get lower and lower, and the ponds dry up. You start hauling water for the cattle, and limiting use at the house. This is where you learn the value of gutters, downspouts, rain barrels, and cisterns.
West Virginia rarely suffered from drought, in fact, we used to call it 'Wild Wonderful WET Virginia'. But there was one year that all the creeks dried up, and people's wells were going dry. Old-timers told stories of digging down in the creek beds to find water.
Since I moved back to Maine in 1995, we have only had 3 really dry years. During the worst of these, I somehow came upon a website with an animated 'soil moisture anomaly loop'. It runs from January of 1198 forward. It usually lags about 2 months behind present day.
http://www.cpc.ncep.noaa.gov/soilmst/img/loop_wanom.gif is the loop.
It is amazing to watch. From fall of 2001 through midsummer 2002 was the deepest drought for us. The website really only tells you in retrospect what you have already lived through, but it makes my hair stand up to remember some of it. The deepest greens are the wettest times, leading to crop failure from water excess. The deepest reds usually correlate with times of drought moving forward into times of fire.
Update with March 2012 temperature spikes; here is an associated website giving temperature anomaly;
http://www.cpc.ncep.noaa.gov/products/Soilmst_Monitoring/US/Temp/Temperature.shtml
*********************************************************************************************
Wind
As I sit here trying conjure words to portray them, I 'see' the wind. It starts out as the merest little breath, stirring my hair, drying my sweat in the hay field, bringing promise of a change in the weather. Leaves stir, whispering. Winds and windstorms that I have known dance in my memory. I hear the moan of the north wind as it wraps around the house in winter- no other wind sounds just like that.
Much as I might like an unmixed metaphor, I can't for the life of me keep from 'seeing' what the wind is carrying. Streamers of fog. Swirling snow. The first few drops of rain introducing a driving, drumming downpour. And my mind's eye carries me off in a wild chase after the wind, to see what it will play with next.
I've seen many hurricanes, but have never seen a full-blown tornado in real life. A few years ago, we started to have more wild weather. When the clouds really start to swirl, moving fast one way, then another- when you see them brake to a screeching halt and go off as quickly in another direction, you know you are seeing wind shear, and you know something very interesting is happening. It is usually at that point that I begin to flirt with the idea of how far out into the yard I want to be, and whether I need to have the door to the cellar open. The dog is a good barometer. If it is too wild out there, he stays put in the house and just watches the crazy human out playing with the wind in the yard. He knows lightning will send me back inside. And I know that if we ever have to go down into the cellar from inside the house, I will probably have to drag him down the steps. It hasn't come to that yet.
*******************************************************************************************************************************
Flood
When rain falls and starts to gather faster than it can sink into the ground or run off, water starts to rise. In dry times, this can be a reason for thanksgiving. Parched earth drinks deep and empty stream beds and ponds fill up. But rising water brings its own hazards proportionate to the event.
We have a little bit of this every year, at ice out. One year we took the kayak down to the brook on the last day of March. The banks were nearly free of snow, but the water was running high and fast. 2 people, 1 kayak, running along, laughing like loons, and arguing over who got to go next. We must have portaged 50 times in less than a mile, finally getting swamped and having to wade in the icy cold water. I don't know how we emptied out the boat, or how far we walked in wet clothes. We called it 'March Madness', and so it was.
I went down alone, another year, to see the conditions, and met a much more dangerous scenario. The snow was still quite deep, and arched over areas of high water. It was running so high that it was roaring, seeming close to shaking the ground. I had wanted to get close enough to photograph the flood, but I got a sick feeling, afraid to be standing over water of unknown depth. I got out of there, warned back by the power.
On August 28th, 2011, after ravaging islands and coasts from the Caribbean and up the Atlantic Seaboard, Hurricane Irene hit new England. Maine was spared the brunt of it, but almost every river and stream in Vermont flooded. On some farms, it washed cattle and hay away, damaged or destroyed buildings, eroded soil, washed away or contaminated crops. Wikipedia has an extremely long write-up on the progression of this monster storm. I haven't had opportunity to travel to Vermont since the event, but I have heard that erosion of soil hit many farms hard. When I lived in West Virginia, I saw high water almost every year. I recall Hurricane Agnes in New York State in 1972, but what Irene did is unparalleled in my experience. I had purchased flood insurance in 2010, and plan on renewing it annually. When the flood waters come, you get out of the way.
******************************************************************************************************************************
Drought
There are times in the life of the farm when things are so waterlogged that you pray for the sun, and an end to mold and mildew; when you change clothes every time you come in because you are soaked to the skin. After such a monsoon season, sunshine and dry weather are cause for celebration. But this can progress past the comfort zone. Pastures turn from green to brown, as the grass goes dormant. Soil progressively parches, and garden plants begin to wither. You mulch, you irrigate, and you pray. And you watch the brooks get lower and lower, and the ponds dry up. You start hauling water for the cattle, and limiting use at the house. This is where you learn the value of gutters, downspouts, rain barrels, and cisterns.
West Virginia rarely suffered from drought, in fact, we used to call it 'Wild Wonderful WET Virginia'. But there was one year that all the creeks dried up, and people's wells were going dry. Old-timers told stories of digging down in the creek beds to find water.
Since I moved back to Maine in 1995, we have only had 3 really dry years. During the worst of these, I somehow came upon a website with an animated 'soil moisture anomaly loop'. It runs from January of 1198 forward. It usually lags about 2 months behind present day.
http://www.cpc.ncep.noaa.gov/soilmst/img/loop_wanom.gif is the loop.
It is amazing to watch. From fall of 2001 through midsummer 2002 was the deepest drought for us. The website really only tells you in retrospect what you have already lived through, but it makes my hair stand up to remember some of it. The deepest greens are the wettest times, leading to crop failure from water excess. The deepest reds usually correlate with times of drought moving forward into times of fire.
Update with March 2012 temperature spikes; here is an associated website giving temperature anomaly;
http://www.cpc.ncep.noaa.gov/products/Soilmst_Monitoring/US/Temp/Temperature.shtml
Drought 2012, Hurricane Isaac;
The summer of 2012 has brought extreme drought conditions to the continental United States. The 'U S Drought Monitor' website allows graphic presentation of the data. If you go to that site you can find weekly drought maps, as well as animated loops, showing the progression of the drought.
'The U.S. Drought Monitor is produced in partnership between the National Drought Mitigation Center at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, the United States Department of Agriculture, and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.'
http://droughtmonitor.unl.edu/archive.html
http://droughtmonitor.unl.edu/archive.html
Hurricane Isaac made landfall on the gulf coast August 28th, 2012 (the same date as the drought graphic above). The graphic for a 5 day rainfal forecast follows. This is from the National weather Service Hydrometeorological Prediction Center (HPC);http://www.hpc.ncep.noaa.gov/index.shtml
***********************************************************************************************
Fire
In the deep of winter, there is nothing so comforting and alluring as fire. Holding both light and warmth, fire has been- and continues to be- key to our survival as a species. It is the gift of the sun, its promise fulfilled, turning the dark to light.
Every child I have seen stoking a fire has the same tendency; to feed it more and more wood as the flames mount higher and higher. The desire to see it grow is infectious.
When we have winter bonfires, the cows love to come over and stand next to the fire, their coats steaming in the heat. They also prowl through the ashes the next day, probably seeking nutrients. If the heat wasn't too intense, the area of the bonfire is much more green the next year, usually full of clover, and is a good spot to till up a new bed for planting.
Fire is a vital source of nature. It cleans up the woodlands and brings new life. But the nature of fire is to challenge control.
I lived in West Virginia for 12 years. At that time everyone had a trash incinerator. Just about every spring, someone's fire would get out of control, and all the neighbors would have to come over and fight fire.
We were actually first hit when a neighbor was cutting my hay in July. The wind was high, and somehow a fire started- whether from smoking or a spark from the tractor, we never knew. I saw smoke, and came across the farm to see what the trouble was. In 15 minutes we had 12 people all beating back the flames. We had no water, and few tools. It was burning fast, and seemed to be headed for the nearest house. Suddenly the wind changed, and it turned around and took my barn. While it was working on the barn, we got a perimeter cleared around it and it burned out. The local fire department showed up long after the fire was out. It was always like that. I never got to use water to fight fire til I came to Maine.
The most famous Maine fire was 'The Fire of '47'. !947 was a very dry year.
'Great Fires of 1947', from Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Fires_of_1947
'...The Great Fires of 1947 were a series of forest fires in the State of Maine in the United States that destroyed a total area of 175,000 acres (780 km²) of wooded land. This disaster is an important part of the local history of the York County and Mount Desert Island areas.'
'...After a wet spring, in which the months of April, May and June were inundated with rainy weather, the climate turned to drought condition in mid July 1947. By the end of September, the ground was extremely dry. State and local officials, recognizing the dangers of the dry conditions, began implementing preventative measures such as informing the public to have their chimneys cleaned. By the second week of October, the state was in a Class 4 state of danger, meaning: "high state of inflammability." Fire watch towers, normally closed at the end of September, were reopened by the State Forest Service. By October 19, many communities in Maine breathed air filled with a smokey haze and the smell of burning wood.
'...Reports of small fires in woods began coming in to the Forest Service on October 7. These early fires burned in Portland, Bowdoin and Wells. Being 30 miles apart from each other, these three fires illustrated the danger. After this, reports of fires poured in, and by October 16, 20 separate fires were burning in the state.'
'...York County; Hardest hit was northern York County, the southern-most county in the state. Fires began in the towns of Shapleigh and Waterboro, destroying both communities, including,with only a few exceptions, most homes. The fires swept through the forests, and moved with the wind toward the ocean. In addition to Waterboro and Shapleigh, the towns of Alfred, Lyman, Newfield, Kennebunk, Kennebunkport, North Kennebunkport, (now Arundel), Dayton, Wells, and the cities of Biddeford and Saco were devastated by fire. With the exception of Shapleigh and Waterboro, most town centers were saved through the tireless work of firefighters, most notably Goodwins Mills in the eastern corner of Lyman, where due in part to a change in wind direction, only the center was saved, and all of the acreage around it burned to the ground.
'The Year Maine Burned' from http://www.acadia.net/anp/w95026ar.html
'...Maine winters are long. Spring is always eagerly anticipated and this was especially true in 1947. The gloominess of WWII still lingered and everyone looked forward to the return of nice weather. Disappointingly, it rained continually through April, May, and most of June. Finally, at the end of June, the sun came out, temperatures soared, and a glorious summer emerged. But weather patterns continued to be odd that year. Through the summer and into the fall, Maine received only 50% of its normal rainfall. Vegetation became bone dry. Water supplies dwindled. Still, most people did not worry - rain would come eventually. The island enjoyed one of the most beautiful Indian summers in memory. But the autumn rains never came and by mid-October, Mount Desert Island was experiencing the driest conditions ever recorded. The stage was set for a disastrous blaze.'
' On Friday, October 17, 1947,at 4 PM, the fire department received a call from Mrs. Gilbert, who lived near Dolliver's dump on Crooked Road west of Hulls Cove. She reported smoke rising from a cranberry bog between her home and the dump. No one knows what started the fire. It could have been cranberry pickers smoking cigarettes in the bog. Or perhaps it was sunlight shining through a piece of broken glass in the dump that acted like an incendiary magnifying glass. Whatever the cause, once ignited, the fire smoldered underground. From this quiet beginning arose an inferno that burned nearly half the eastern side of Mount Desert Island and made international news.'
'...State-wide, over 200,000 acres, 851 permanent homes, and 397 seasonal cottages were destroyed in "The year Maine burned."
I bought this place in 1995, a year of drought. Coincidentally, I was reading a book 'Fire in America: A Cultural History of Wildland and Rural Fire' by Stephen J. Pyne. It wasn't until I got the synoptic picture of wildfire, that I realized how relatively small the 'Fire of '47' had been.
The farm had just been timbered off, and the woods were full of slash. I couldn't sleep, thinking about fire. So that fall I joined the Fire Department. In the next 5 years, I had numerous opportunities to fight wildfire.
I had cause to speak with a neighbor about her husband's part in fighting fire in 1947. She told me that the brook running at the back of our property (Stony Brook) was one of the few that hadn't dried up, so they used it as a source of water for fighting the fire.
There are areas not far from here where only now are the pines getting big. From here all up through Shapleigh and Cornish, the woods have long looked like the worst of the pine barrens in the south. I am sure there is some of that tendency anyway (or the pine barrens look the way they do because they, too, have suffered wildfire), but it is only as the trees got big that I realized I was still seeing the aftermath of the fire, 60 years later.
We have been fortunate. Fire has not yet gotten out of control here. We came close the year I was plowing and a mouse nest in the cowling of my tractor caught fire. I had tools, and my cell phone, and was finally able to beat the fire back long enough go to get water. But I found out, you have to stop everything and stand still long enough to place a cell phone call. I had to try 4 times, because the wind would change, and it would try to run into the woods. I got my exercise that day. The folks from the Fire Department didn't know what the fuss was about, when they got there. The fire was out, and the burned spot was only about 60 ft in diameter, but I had sweat bullets to get around it.
People say fires are getting worse, perhaps due to climate change. In summer of 2011 there were bad fires in Texas. Already Las Vegas and Reno have had trouble. In steep areas fire is often followed by floods and landslides.
You want to see to the condition of your woods, having good trails and access to water. You want to have a 30ft fire break around your buildings. You want to have fire suppression tools of some type, and a plan, and good communications. As the Red Cross says, 'make a plan, build a kit, get trained'. Fire departments run frequent classes.
Ice