Category Archives: Weather

Up, Up, and Not Quite Far Enough Away

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A short, vigorous thunderstorm rolled over my house late this afternoon. A lot of rain for a short time, but it didn’t seem like a lot of wind. I was wrong. A microburst of some kind must have slammed the back yard, because when I looked outside, I thought, something’s missing. What’s missing? The deck umbrella.

The damn thing was mostly broken anyway. One of the supports was busted somehow  during the winter, so even at best it was only half of an umbrella, and yesterday it wasn’t even open. Yet somehow the wind had taken it somewhere. Where? I didn’t see it on the deck or in the yard.

It was on the roof, pole and all. Must have been a freakishly strong wind to open the thing up, lift it and the few pounds of pole away from the cast-iron patio table, and deposit it on the roof. Chairs were moved but not knocked over, and one plant had been tipped over, but otherwise there was no hint of strong wind. Odd.

Once the storm was completely over, I got my ladder – the hard part was getting the ladder out from behind the debris in the garage, not getting to the roof – and persuaded the umbrella wreckage to come back to the ground.

Summertime Samosa

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Saw the streak of a firefly over my lawn this evening. First one of the year. That and twilight at about 9 p.m. mark the coming of high summer. Even so, I can feel June slipping away. Wish this sweetest of months could linger a little longer.

Before adopting our dog, I wouldn’t have guessed how important windows were to her. She’s a tall dog when she stands on her hind legs, and can see out of some of our windows – and spends a lot of time doing just that. One of the windows she fancies is easy to see from the driveway, and sometimes as I pass that window in my car, headed for the garage, I see the glint of two canine eyes.

Impulse purchase of the week (of the month?): Regal Chowk’s Punjabi Samosa, which seems to be made by an entity called Anarkali in Pakistan. Basic searches tell of a folk heroine from Lahore called Anarkali, who’s appeared in books, plays and movies made on the subcontinent, but I’m too lazy to look into that any further right now.

Anyway, these samosa are in the frozen foods section of your neighborhood grocery store, or at least one of my nearby grocery stores, since there’s a fairly large population here in the northwest suburbs who are from, or whose parents are from, South Asia. The first place I ever had samosa was on Devon Ave. in Chicago years ago, as an appetizer, and I’ve enjoyed them now and then ever since. Fresh is going to be hard to beat, but I thought I’d give these a try. Might be surprised.

Right Time for a Nap

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I’ll say it again: Sunday was a crummy excuse of a day for early June, dank and cold. And it isn’t like we get to have a pleasant warm day in early December in return. Except that we did, and maybe this is Old Man Winter’s way of balancing things out (just because it’s June doesn’t mean that old man is idle).

Late in the afternoon on Sunday, everyone but me sacked out in the living room. Left to right: Ann, Lilly (can’t see her face, but note the pink-framed iPod next to her), the dog, Yuriko.

It was a lot like a pic I took on the cold May 31, 2012, except the floor was even more crowed this time around. Plus ça change doesn’t just apply to big-picture events or overarching social conditions, but quotidian moments too.

The Dandelion Rush

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Capital way to wrap up April — warm. Very warm. And with a bumper crop of dandelions in the back yard. I didn’t make it outside much, except to walk the dog, but I completely enjoyed the warm air.

Tomorrow’s supposed to be summer-like, so it could be that the last week in April is all the spring we’re going to get. There has to be a cool blast sometime in May — it’ll feel like March, except the trees will be green — and then a lot of heat, or at least what passes for heat here.

All the Boards Did Shrink Again

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It rained from about midnight to 6 a.m. on Thursday, one of the heaviest I’ve seen here in the northwest suburbs, but not the heaviest. Just my impression. I don’t feel like looking up the rainfall totals measured at O’Hare for then and now.

Thursday’s rain also compares to the time we went camping in Wisconsin, in summer of ’07, and during our last night in the tent it rained and rained and rained (which I called “two-fisted, he-man rain”). As for the tent, guaranteed to keep you dry indeed.

On Friday morning, skies were gray, but at least it wasn’t raining any more. On Saturday morning, the morning greeted us with a light dusting of snow. It melted after a short time, but even this far north, that’s a little unusual.

Much mud is still around. The dog is very fond of it.

The Soggy Green Grass of April

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Rain, rain, rain. Seems like the drought that gripped northern Illinois is over. And it seems like we’re getting the rain we didn’t get last year, plus this year’s, and maybe a down payment on next year’s. But I suppose that’s anthropomorphism, or at least using financial terminology for the weather.

Speaking of anthropomorphism, I think that when our new hound watches us prepare food, as she does every day, she must be thinking those humans are crazy. Why aren’t they eating their food right now?

Another dog picture. I’ll probably publish a number of them before the novelty wears off. I tried to get her to look at the camera, but she was too busy spying our back yard tree for squirrels. None were to be seen. That time.

Hints of Spring

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Despite the nearness of the equinox — which will inevitably be called ‘the first day of spring” when it arrives — winter grinds on here. Can’t call it spring. Large snowflakes came down much of this morning, though it wasn’t quite cold enough for them to last. Subfreezing temps expected at night for days and days to come.

The latest gas bill arrived the other day to drive home the fact that we’re still warming the house using natural gas. For the period February 12 through March 14 (30 days), 245.38 therms went for that purpose (including a few for cooking), or roughly 24.5M Btus. The bill also tells me that the average temp was 33 degrees F. for the period in question, compared with 54 degrees for roughly the same period last year. Natural gas prices are up, too, at least as reflected in the statement. Not sure what to make of that; last I heard, there was a glut.

I did see the tips of a few croci today, though not in my yard. And not long ago I heard a woodpecker, pecking at a tree in search of a meal. Only hints of spring, but better than nothing.

Come May, We’ll be in Clover

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Winter refuses to go quietly. Today was windy and raw, and just before dark, snowy. Not a vast amount, just enough to re-whiten the ground. But even so, winter is losing its grip. Before the snow started, I walked by a front yard that had the remains of a snowman: a lump of unmelted snow, a hat on top of that, and a carrot and some apples on the ground nearby. (Ann told me the apples were the snowman’s “buttons.”)

Got a note from a friendly yard-care company rubber-banded to my front doorknob the other day, offering its services in the spring. The note featured a checklist of “undesired weeds” in our yard, and according to the checklist we have chickweed, henbit, dandelions, and clover. How did this company know what I have in my yard? Yard spies wandering down the sidewalks last summer, making notes? It’s too soon yet for drones to do that, but someday no doubt they will.

Never mind. Those last two are easy enough, but I had to look up the others. Chickweed refers to a lot of different plants, so it’s one of those unhelpful common names that spurred Carolus Linnaeus to do what he did. Henbit is Lamium amplexicaule. I’m pretty sure we do in fact have henbit, dandelions, and clover in the yard. But they missed our pockets of mint, maybe because most of those are in the back yard, and yard spies who go there are trespassing.

But why are those three weeds? I’ve written about dandelions. As for clover, it’s clover. We’re not talking kudzu here. Clover is good. The expression “in clover,” though a bit old-fashioned, reflects that.  The OED puts it this way: “to live (or be) in clover: ‘to live luxuriously; clover being extremely delicious and fattening to cattle.’ ” We don’t have cattle, but who can look down on those little green plants mixed in with other grasses, with their three leaves and hardy constitutions, and think weed?

Letter from the Alamo

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Remember the Alamo. This year the Feb. 24, 1836, letter by William Barret Travis — the famed Victory or Death letter — has been on display at the Alamo since Feb. 23 (and continuing until tomorrow), on loan from the Texas State Library and Archives Commission. The Alamo has even set up a web site for the letter, which is here, though I don’t know how long it will be up. Apparently the letter hasn’t been to the Alamo since Travis sent it.

I might have braved the lines to take a look at it, but I’ve been further north, putting up with late winter. Yesterday, of course, was a big snow. What happens after a big snow? Plowing on the street by the village, shoveling on my driveway by me, and occasional snowball fights among the girls. Once paths have been cleared, everyone’s schedule returns to normal, as they did today.

Being a March snow, I’m expecting meltage soon. The only unusual thing about the weather this year was the paucity of snow in early winter, compared to its abundance later on.

The Big March Snow

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Snow! Not much more to report on this March 5. Both elementary and high schools were closed, even though the snowfall really didn’t get under way until late in the morning, and Yuriko stayed home too. When the snow started to fall, it came with gusto. But not much wind. Just steady snow, hour after hour.

I didn’t get around to shoveling until about 8:30. After dark, but with light bouncing off the snow, it wasn’t that dark. There must be two feet on the ground now, counting this snow and the previous buildups.

March snows aren’t that strange, but ones so vigorous are a little uncommon. The last time I remember so much coming down this month was in early March 1998. We had so much that we postponed out meeting with the home inspector at the house we would eventually buy in Westmont that year.