The smell of inevitability
By the hour the acid-yellow buds of the forsythia emerge and expand, even as the scrawny shrubs’ spindly branches are whipped and battered by horizontal rain and keening winds tearing down from the Alps. This wind, locally called the burja, has been clawing at the eaves for nearly a week now. While it’s undeniable that things like the buds shown above are becoming more of a reality every day, more typical of the last week has been this:
If the burja were photographable, it would be dramatic, I can tell you. I’m told that if you murder your spouse while the burja is blowing, that’s considered mitigating circumstances. While we’re not on the verge of murder, we are getting a bit stir-crazy. Yesterday Magda said to me, “If I’m able to go outside tomorrow, I’m not sure I’ll be able to breathe out there.”
So it’s been a whole lot of nothing. We’re left to deal with the cognitive dissonance of watching the slow-motion fireworks show of the annual blossoming of fruit trees as the katabatic battering of the wind ebbs and roars, bringing stinging rain and occasional flurries and even hilltop dustings of snow. Spring seems both impossible and inevitable.
First, thank you for using “katabatic”.
Second, you have the burja, we have the plain old blizzard. See, we just got dumped on with a half meter of snow (that’s a couple of feet), at the so-called “end” of a winter that has seen over four meters fall in total (that’s more than 12 feet, dude).
Yesterday, with the help of a friend, I spent an hour and a half clearing all the snow off the garage roof to prevent it from, you know, collapsing. The pile behind the garage was as high as the garage roof. Mind you, it was sensational to jump into that pile. I did a forward somersault and got straight 9.7s from the international judges.
Comment by Roo — Sunday 9 March 08 @ 14.24 MDT+2.00
Thanks, Roo. Your comment makes me wish there was something more emphatic than just “Approve” in the way of comment moderation radio buttons.
The link you sent to Valvasor’s image of fully-loaded packhorses being blown over in the Kras proves that even wind is, in theory, photographable, and even engravable. I’ve seen large trucks blown onto their sides on the highway at the windy end of the Vipava Valley, which is nothing but an updating of the same idea.
I recall winters like you describe, but I thought they were as over as Britney. Thanks for nothing, Al Gore!
Comment by sgazzetti — Sunday 9 March 08 @ 14.53 MDT+2.00
Well, I wish the hell it was happening here. My entire house is sagging under the weight of seedlings, yet there is still a couple feet of snow on the ground. Grrr. They say this winter was one of the coldest in memory. Apparently it’s La Nina. Doesn’t it seem like, ever since they discovered El Nino and La Nina, that we have one of those every year now? I think El Nino and La Nina must be weatherman jargon for “well, this is fucked up weather.”
Hope was found today, though, because some patches of ground are clearing, and in one of them I found some thyme already growing (from last year–I guess it is truly perennial!) The kid proceeded to eat a sprig of it, stem and all. But it’s so exciting. Life is under there, just waiting to come out. And then there will be the madness of the short summer.
Comment by jdog — Monday 10 March 08 @ 05.35 MDT+2.00
We’re at 100 inches for the season. So far. Almost twice the normal snowfall. I’d like to think the snow is over, but I daren’t. More coming tomorrow!
We’re still making due with forced bulbs around here. No forsythia yet.
J’s mom used to say every year, “I think it’ll be an early spring this year. ”
I like to follow her tradition,and say it several times a day, but it’s just a family joke; no one believes it.
Comment by gaoo — Tuesday 11 March 08 @ 20.01 MDT+2.00
Der, I mean making DO. Delayed grammar reaction. Do you remember skiing off the Koons’ roof directly down the hill of snow to the driveway?
Comment by gaoo — Wednesday 12 March 08 @ 22.16 MDT+2.00