Western Carolina Winters
This might just be me getting used to the climate here, but I still think it's unseasonably warm. I still find it hard to believe that there are days that can hit 60 (F) degrees temperature wise in winters outside of Southern California. But it has happened here several times in December. The good thing is that the bugs are gone - for now - and that you can actually crack your window here in Western Carolina. The problem with that is, you'll slam the window shut again after the night air hits 35 or less, which should happen more regularly these days.
The fall is over for good, and look at the difference in the forest, where we live. In summer, your visibility is zero, ziltsch, or as good as the next hundred foot tall red oak. In January, we can now see everything. The trees have lost their leaves, now it's only the branches, which will do a good job hiding the squirrels and little else. This can go both ways. On one hand, you love the hammer and chisel busting the space open, and you are pleased to see a little more sky. You can see every neighbor's house. In spring and summer, you can't see any of them. In winter, that natural fence comes down, giving people the opportunity to see more of each other. If you are a private person, you prefer the summers.
The weather now is perfect for yardwork, whether it rains or not. If it's dry, I drag out the chainsaw and cut up some of the deadwood, of which there is a lot. If there's a drizzle, I'll yank out the weeds, which come out easily in wet soil. There is a lot of poison ivy to be yanked from the property, and this is the time to do it, before it can multiply and continue its assault on us again in summer, along with its cute little sideshows, like too many bugs and snakes and other vermin hiding in it. A few sickly trees must be cut down, but this is simply to enable the survival of the rest of the forest.
The trees themselves are unpredictable. We have an old beech tree, easily the biggest tree on the property. A month ago, one of its lower branches dropped with a heavy thud. When leaves or light branches fall, only the squirrels and robins hear them drop. With a one hundred foot beech with fifty foot branches (at least), the sound of wood hitting the ground can sound like a car crash. This always means extra yardwork, not necessarily a bad thing. It's almost like your pets (or your plants) are relieving themselves, and you are the store clerk responsible for the cleanup in aisle seven. A broom won't do, here we're talking chainsaws and axes.
I love trees as much as the next person, but the pragmatist in me loves the chainsaw at work. Decades ago, it was nearly impossible to own one of those yourself. The chainsaw I have, a Poulan Pro, is not necessarily something I would use for the large red oaks, but they are more than suited for the big branches that take a dive here. With a little maintenance, that chainsaw can cut all day like a champ. Also gives the neighbors free firewood, if they are so inclined. They usually aren't, being that they have plenty of deadwood of their own that they cut down.
Finally, the animals. I would so love to brag about how I've seen bears and cougars here. Actually, I take that last statement back. I don't want to see them anywhere outside of the Western Carolina Nature Center, because that means they are probably encroaching on our property and are on the lookout for an easy snack, possibly my kitty cat. There are only owls (lots of them) hooting at night, hawks, and squirrels.
We're still waiting for the first snow, which, if we can trust forecasts, should roll around here this weekend.
The fall is over for good, and look at the difference in the forest, where we live. In summer, your visibility is zero, ziltsch, or as good as the next hundred foot tall red oak. In January, we can now see everything. The trees have lost their leaves, now it's only the branches, which will do a good job hiding the squirrels and little else. This can go both ways. On one hand, you love the hammer and chisel busting the space open, and you are pleased to see a little more sky. You can see every neighbor's house. In spring and summer, you can't see any of them. In winter, that natural fence comes down, giving people the opportunity to see more of each other. If you are a private person, you prefer the summers.
The weather now is perfect for yardwork, whether it rains or not. If it's dry, I drag out the chainsaw and cut up some of the deadwood, of which there is a lot. If there's a drizzle, I'll yank out the weeds, which come out easily in wet soil. There is a lot of poison ivy to be yanked from the property, and this is the time to do it, before it can multiply and continue its assault on us again in summer, along with its cute little sideshows, like too many bugs and snakes and other vermin hiding in it. A few sickly trees must be cut down, but this is simply to enable the survival of the rest of the forest.
The trees themselves are unpredictable. We have an old beech tree, easily the biggest tree on the property. A month ago, one of its lower branches dropped with a heavy thud. When leaves or light branches fall, only the squirrels and robins hear them drop. With a one hundred foot beech with fifty foot branches (at least), the sound of wood hitting the ground can sound like a car crash. This always means extra yardwork, not necessarily a bad thing. It's almost like your pets (or your plants) are relieving themselves, and you are the store clerk responsible for the cleanup in aisle seven. A broom won't do, here we're talking chainsaws and axes.
I love trees as much as the next person, but the pragmatist in me loves the chainsaw at work. Decades ago, it was nearly impossible to own one of those yourself. The chainsaw I have, a Poulan Pro, is not necessarily something I would use for the large red oaks, but they are more than suited for the big branches that take a dive here. With a little maintenance, that chainsaw can cut all day like a champ. Also gives the neighbors free firewood, if they are so inclined. They usually aren't, being that they have plenty of deadwood of their own that they cut down.
Finally, the animals. I would so love to brag about how I've seen bears and cougars here. Actually, I take that last statement back. I don't want to see them anywhere outside of the Western Carolina Nature Center, because that means they are probably encroaching on our property and are on the lookout for an easy snack, possibly my kitty cat. There are only owls (lots of them) hooting at night, hawks, and squirrels.
We're still waiting for the first snow, which, if we can trust forecasts, should roll around here this weekend.
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