A confab of rabbits

A light snow blanketed the lawn this morning. Enough to freshen the landscape. As I made my way down the driveway to retrieve the newspaper, I noticed there had been a confab of rabbits at play in the early hours.

Their tracks came from all directions, crisscrossed the driveway, met two or three in a group, then took off again. I wondered what business of the warren brought them all out. Hitting the road for the work day? Planning a potluck before the hawks take wing? An early morning exercise class?

A little bit of silliness on my part, I know, but fun to imagine. We've had so little snow this winter, I realized I hadn't had the pleasure of spotting animal tracks on a fresh canvas and wondering what the animal kingdom has been up to.

In an open winter like we've had, food is easy to find. Water has been free flowing. Life has been comparatively easy in the wild world. Good for them. Not so many aimless musings for me. And I miss that. Seeing the world in a different way is just one of the reasons I enjoy winters with snow.

Winter's last, beautiful gasp

I walked out of the Des Moines Art Center last night and into a winter wonderland.  Big, wet snowflakes the size of golf balls filled the air and covered the ground. The snowfall was absolutely silent, but the flakes were so large it was easy to imagine hearing a 'plop' as each one landed. I hurried to the car in a somewhat futile attempt to protect my sketch pad. 

With my art supplies safely stowed in the back seat, I turned my attention to clearing the car windows.  A few swipes of my bare hand cleared the back window. It wasn't cold enough to bother digging out my gloves. By the time I was back in the car, globs of snow hung like Christmas tree decorations on my coat, jeans and hair. The whole thing made me laugh. It was so unexpected, so pretty, so spring.

At 9:30 p.m., there was little traffic on the freeway and those who were out moved slowly over the slick roads. Two inches of snow fell in about an hour, but it was so heavy and wet that, when combined with above freezing temperatures, it compressed to a half inch.

I'm not a big fan of snow in March, but if we had to get snow, I'm all for this kind.  I'm also for the 50 degree temperatures the weather forecasters predict for later this week.  That's another good thing about March snow. It will be all gone soon.

Feeding the hungry

I've always wondered how birds survive the winter cold. It seems impossible that their little bodies can hold enough heat to survive freezing temperatures. Even worse when constant snow cover makes it hard for them to find food. I worry about the birds. I do.

Though a snow drift at least three feet deep covers half the prairie, it's gratifying to see that the prairie continues to provide. In spite of the snow, in spite of the wind, the prairie plants continue to stand upright.  Nothing pretty to look at - only brown and black remnants of once-brilliant black-eyed Susans, sunflowers and purple coneflowers silhouetted against white drifts. But the dried flower heads continue to sprinkle a buffet of flower seed on top of the snow - an ongoing feast for the birds, field mice and voles.

Each seed head produces hundreds of seeds, so it's likely the food will outlast the winter. And the birds are taking advantage. Their little foot prints cover the ground under each plant.

Once again, the prairie says to me - 'Don't worry. We've got it covered."

Big Foot in Iowa!

Ever since I was a kid, I've enjoyed seeing and identifying animal tracks.  Each animal is so distinctive.  Snow provides a unique opportunity to see what wildlife live on or travel across our property. No matter how fresh the snow, by the time I get out in the morning, some animals will have passed by.

I know because of its tracks that a neighbor's cat is a regular traveler down our front walk. I also know that a rabbit lives north of the drive but finds a daily reason to bound across the drive and through my garden. Occasionally I see the rabbit. Except for its tracks, I never see the cat. We also have dogs, deer, and many birds. Their tracks tell me so.

A few weeks ago, I indulged myself with a pair of snowshoes. Compared to other members of the animal kingdom that traverse our yard, my tracks are HUGE! A true big foot. These snowshoes encourage me to take a wider, closer and more frequent look at what is traveling our property.

Our 2 1/2 acres provide plenty of room to roam. But occasionally, I head north and lay down tracks across my neighbors' lawns. 

After a break of several days, I recently took that northern route. A new snow had fallen and when I first saw snowshoe tracks, I thought they were my own from a previous walk. Upon looking closer; however, I saw that the shape, length of stride, and even route were different. I realized with some delight that I was not the only one of my species in this territory!

I wonder if my animal neighbors see my tracks, scent my trail, and wonder about their new neighbor?  I do know that my invisible cat friend likes the trail I have tramped down. Its prints now follow mine!

Prairie Snow - After the thaw

We had unseasonably warm December weather yesterday - 61 degrees! How great is that in the dead of winter?  I watched snow melt, creating streams that ran off, mostly down storm sewers. Except in the prairie.

Snow in the prairie was deeper, held by prairie plants residue. The ground was sheltered and - I presume - the temperature in the prairie did not rise as high as it did in open areas.

Other than an interesting observation, does the speed of snow melt matter? It does, of course, as Iowan's saw these past years after heavy snow melted rapidly, filling streams and rivers to overflowing. Devastating floods followed.

Where prairie exists, nature has a hand in moderating the runoff.

One feature of prairie plants is an extensive root system. The roots go deep and wide, acting like a big sponge to soak up rain and keep it from running off. I assumed this was a feature that played out in the summer time. But we know that even a sponge can get so full it won't hold all the water. Now I see how it works even in the winter.

Plant residue above ground holds the snow and keeps it from melting so fast. It holds the snow until the roots have a chance to catch up. Above and below ground, the prairie is working together to manage the moisture.

The prairie snow is melting. Sixty-plus degrees will make that happen. But it's slower. I'll be watching the prairie snow as we move into spring.  I can see how the prairie process will be a good thing.

In case you forgot

The humidity is so thick today I can see it. The heat index has been over 100 degrees for weeks. Even my husband who seriously loves summer has stopped saying, 'This is what we waited all winter for.'

Perhaps now is a good time to remember this past winter's snow.  It was deep.  And then it got deeper. 

I can't help it. I'd like to throw myself naked in a snow drift right this minute.

Snow on the prairie

Snow on October 10. This was unexpected. When a weather occurrence is out of the ordinary, I always think, 'Do I remember this happening before?' Though I do not remember snow as early as October 10, I'm sure it has.

What I can remember is the snow/ice storm Des Moines experienced on Halloween weekend 15 or more years ago. Sitting in my kitchen, I watched as limbs - big limbs - fell to the ground, as mature trees split. Each time a limb or tree gave in to the weight, the sound was unexpected, startling, frightening. It cracked like rifle shots, exploded like canon fire. I was grateful to already be home, grateful I was not skating I-235 with other downtown workers on the evening commute. The clean up was heart and back breaking. All those trees damaged or gone entirely.

This early snow is causing none of that devastation. At least here in Des Moines. In fact, it's already melting. The cold that is predicted to follow tonight will likely kill my impatiens even though they're covered. Oh, well. We try to hold on to summer for one more day, knowing this is not something we can actually control.

Generally, I enjoy the first snow of the season. This was just a little early. But I get to see the first snow on my prairie and enjoy it. A gentle snow on Saturday that will melt by Monday. And I know to be grateful.