Like I said the other day, temperatures today are supposed to be near 50, and tomorrow near 60. Walking out to the car this morning, I happened to glance at the small ditch I carved in the ice and snow yesterday.
As I said on this blog recently, this is the season for lessons in thermodynamics, I had forgotten that it is also the season for teachings in hydrology. You see, temperatures are usually around freezing this time of year; sometimes a little above, sometimes a little below. That means that snow and ice are often turning into water, and visa versa. Yesterday afternoon a pool of water had formed in the driveway. That brought two possibilities to mind. Cooler temperatures would cause that water to turn to ice, leading to something akin to a skating rink in the lane. If temperatures remained relatively warm, the water would turn the lane into a muddy quagmire, not unlike miso soup. Neither of these possibilities are pleasant ones either for us or for the driver for the town who plows our lane. Hence the ditchwork.
I have done plenty of "water work" here on the other side of the creek over the years. There have been two basic reasons for this. One is the aforementioned: to keep ice, water and snow out of the lane. The other is to keep as much water as possible out of the basement.
Last Saturday was a warmish day. In the evening, Allyn and I were heading to a party nearby. Crossing the bridge on Kahle road, the water on the bridge was about three inches high. It was forecasted that temperatures would cool that evening, and I could envision the skating rink that would ensue should I fail to intervene.
The party was a madhouse. I wouldn't be missed. I came back home and did the requisite digging to get the water off the bridge, and into the Ira creek.
As I said on this blog recently, this is the season for lessons in thermodynamics, I had forgotten that it is also the season for teachings in hydrology. You see, temperatures are usually around freezing this time of year; sometimes a little above, sometimes a little below. That means that snow and ice are often turning into water, and visa versa. Yesterday afternoon a pool of water had formed in the driveway. That brought two possibilities to mind. Cooler temperatures would cause that water to turn to ice, leading to something akin to a skating rink in the lane. If temperatures remained relatively warm, the water would turn the lane into a muddy quagmire, not unlike miso soup. Neither of these possibilities are pleasant ones either for us or for the driver for the town who plows our lane. Hence the ditchwork.
I have done plenty of "water work" here on the other side of the creek over the years. There have been two basic reasons for this. One is the aforementioned: to keep ice, water and snow out of the lane. The other is to keep as much water as possible out of the basement.
Last Saturday was a warmish day. In the evening, Allyn and I were heading to a party nearby. Crossing the bridge on Kahle road, the water on the bridge was about three inches high. It was forecasted that temperatures would cool that evening, and I could envision the skating rink that would ensue should I fail to intervene.
The party was a madhouse. I wouldn't be missed. I came back home and did the requisite digging to get the water off the bridge, and into the Ira creek.
There is another well known way in which water "springs" forth this time of year. The sugaring season has begun. Water in this sugary form is being sucked out of the ground by maple trees and into sap lines and buckets all over the state.
Even the word "Spring" brings another usage of the word to mind. A spring, a place where water is gushing out of the ground, seemingly without ceasing. I googled the word in order to learn about its origin. It comes from the Dutch and German word, "springen" which means, the head of a well, to rush out in a stream. Perfect.
Water will be the watchword here over the next couple of days. There are flood watches in effect here until Saturday evening. When temperatures are to cool, and water will revert to its icy wintry form... for a time.
Sometimes when I write these lengthy blogs I wonder. Does this mean that the natural world is wondrous and endlessly fascinating, or do I just lead an exceedingly boring life? Maybe it's a little of both. What's your opinion on the matter, Shawn?
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