All of a sudden there’s a lot more light

And it’s a warm light – snow melts off the roof,

The first lambs are born in the barn cellar,

The hens start laying, the mare comes into season,

And I notice that the geraniums at the window

Have pushed their stalks up eight inches

And covered them with brick-pink blossoms. – Kate Barnes

Weather Trends

This is often Snowdrop Winter Week along the 40th Parallel, a time of meteorological ambivalence, promising spring then backsliding. First the warmth: The fifth major high-pressure system of February comes through in the early days of the week, but it is typically the weakest front of the month. The 21st is usually mild, and the 22nd and 23rd are typically the very warmest days of the entire month. On those dates, for the first time since December 12th, there is at least a 20 percent chance of 60s, along with a 20 percent chance of 50s.

Then a step backward: Snowdrop Winter arrives around the 24th, often one of the windiest days of the month, and colder temperatures often return for up to 72 hours. While 50s and 60s each come 5 percent of the time, and 40s are recorded 35 to 40 percent of the years, highs only in the 20s or 30s occur the remaining 50 percent, and chances of a high in the teens appear for the last time this season. Snow falls 35 percent of the years on the 24th, and five years in 10 on the 25th. But the 25th is also the last day in Early Spring that chances of snow get so high.

Natural Calendar

This week opens the season of early bulbs even in the coldest years. The very earliest bulbs, of course, the snowdrops, the snow crocus and the aconites, have already bloomed in the sunniest microclimates. Now it is time for the larger, brighter standard crocus and the small spring iris, the iris reticulata to flower.

When one thing happens, something else is always happening, too. The flowering of those bulbs bears witness to the blossoming of silver maples and the red maples along city streets, the blooming of weedy henbit in the garden, the increasing flow of maple sap, the full emergence of pussy willows, the appearance of woolly bear caterpillars, the full bloom of the pure snow trillium along the rivers, the final bloom of skunk cabbage, the mating songs of red-winged blackbirds in the swamp, the time of pairing up for ducks and geese, the time for killdeer and woodcocks to arrive from the South, and for juncos to depart for the North.

When the early bulbs come in, clover grows back in the pastures and nettle tops are big enough for supper greens; celandine and garlic mustard and sweet rocket grow bushy in the alleys; violet leaves and horseradish leaves sprout in the garden. Honeysuckle leaves unravel on the branches closest to the ground. Buds lengthen and brighten on multiflora roses, mock orange and lilac. Bleeding heart foliage pushes up from the mulch, and day lily leaves can be as tall as crows. Buds on the daffodils foretell the next season of flowering bulbs and the deepening of Early Spring. Walleye, bass and bluegills have begun to feed, and earthworms breed in the warming rains.

Field and Garden

Broadcast clover in the pastures, and spread grass seed in the lawn after snow has melted and the moon becomes completely dark. Spread phosphate and potash as needed in your pastures. Pull back some garden mulch to allow soil to dry out and warm up.

As the new moon approaches, plant rows of peas, onions, potatoes, radishes, rutabagas, asparagus crowns, spinach, turnips and carrots on milder afternoons. Then take cuttings to propagate shrubs, trees, and houseplants; experiment with forsythia, pussy willow, hydrangea and spirea. 

All summer flowering plants like rose-of-Sharon and butterfly bush can be pruned in February or March. Trim back ornamental grasses. 

The Countdown to Spring

• A day or two to crocus season and owl hatching time and woodcock mating time

• Two weeks to the beginning of the morning robin chorus before sunrise. At the same time, sandhill cranes assemble for migration in Nebraska

• Two and a half weeks to daffodil season and silver maple blooming season and the first golden goldfinches

• Three and a half weeks to tulip season and the first butterflies, and first wave of blooming woodland wildflowers

• Five weeks until golden forsythia blooms and skunk cabbage sends out its first leaves

• Six weeks until the Great Dandelion Bloom begins and lawns are long enough to cut

• Seven weeks until all the fruit trees start to flower

• Eight weeks until the first rhubarb pie

Almanack Literature

Our Milking Event – A True Story

By Clara Hicks, Attica, Ohio

As a young girl living in Kentucky, I went twice a day with my mother to milk my great uncle’s cows, as he was spending time on top of a mountain in a fire tower watching for fires in surrounding states.

One summer Sunday morning, it was raining real hard. We wanted to get the milking done so we could attend church. We decided to go extra early because we knew we would have to walk on a wet and muddy road, and it would be difficult to climb the hillside which was the pasture where the cows were grazing. With such hard rain, we had to use our umbrellas to stay dry.

We climbed the hills to herd the cows to the barn where we would perform the hand milking. As we approached the cows, we thought we would be able to herd them to the barn as always, but much to our surprise, as soon as we came close to them, they threw their tails over their backs and away they went. We proceeded to get close to them again and again, but again and again they continued to throw their tails over their backs and take off running.

After several times without luck, we realized they were frightened by the umbrellas! That made me cry, which caused my mom to laugh.

By this time it was noon. My second cousin and his wife had visited his dad’s to find we hadn’t been to the house with milk. They became worried and came searching for us. With their help, after giving up the umbrellas and becoming soaking wet, we did get the cows to the barn where we proceeded to get them milked, but of course we didn’t go to church.

I was glad we had this experience only once. We still laugh about the incident, and my friends ask me, “Have you milked any cows lately?”