Winter Comes to the North Bay

You know it's Fall when the grape vines change from green to gold.

As a native New Englander and life-long Yankee, I'm used to seasons marked by dramatic changes in both weather and landscape.  Not so where we live now in the Napa Valley area of the North Bay.  The area is famous for its Mediterranean climate, perfect growing the grapes that make this the countries most famous wine growing region.  

Spring, Summer, and Fall the weather is so stable, except for the occasional hot summer days that push into the 90's, the average daytime temperature is in the 70's to low 80's and it quickly drops into the 60's once the sun sets in the evening. Humidity is rare, as is rain.
 

On December 9th, this tree still had plenty of green leaves.

Since the Fall temperatures both last year and this year were unseasonably warm, the only way I could tell it was Fall (except for checking the calendar) was when the luscious green foliage in the vineyards changed to burnt orange and gold.

The glorious red and orange colors of New England are rare here, although sugar maples and other trees that provide brilliant fall colors have found their way to nurseries here and do pop up here and there.

Still, while deciduous trees do turn color and shed their leaves, the prevailing color here is gold with occasional pops of orange.

Late into November, this tree was still mostly green.  It finally dropped its leaves just before Christmas.

I love the orange colors on some of the trees.  When the sun is shining, it almost seems as though the trees are on fire!

 

The other striking difference between New England and the Napa Valley is that while things are turning brown in the Northeast's winter landscape, the rains turn the hills green as fresh new growth replaces the brown grass and brush that gradually dried out and went dormant over the dry summer.

Looking out at the hills behind our apartment, the golden swaths of grapevines in the vineyards contrast with the fresh grass in the bright green fields and pastureland.

The hills behind our apartment...  starting to green up with the recent rain.

 

The rains gradually increase through the Fall  but Winter is the rainy season and we get roughly 85% of the annual 20'1/2 inches of average rainfall between November and March.  Both rainwater and melting snow from the snow packs in the mountains refill the aquifers and provide the groundwater used for irrigation during the growing season.

For the last four years, the winter rain has been abysmally low  resulting in a lengthy and worrisome drought.  Last year was exceedingly dry but the December 2014 rainfall at 11.03 inches (almost 3 times our usual December rainfall) helped to avert disaster when the January rains, usually the highest amount of rainfall for the year, simply never came.

But we are off to a better start this year.  Ordinarily, we get about 2.5 inches of rain in November and 3.8 inches of rain in December.  So far this winter, we have received a decent amount of rain: almost 2 inches for November and a respectable 2.8 inches to date this month.

But even better for the long term outlook is that many of the recent storms skidded past us, leaving a scant half inch or less of rain behind and instead carrying the water inland where it was deposited in the form of snow in the mountains.

The Sierra Nevadas now boast a 10 foot snow pack, double what is usually accumulated this early in the season.  In fact, ski resorts opened weeks ahead of schedule with natural, not man-made snow.   With a strong  el nino predicted to give us an exceptional amount of rain over the next two months, we may reach our annual average and make up some of the deficit of the previous three years.  And if the snow pack in the mountains continues to benefit from Mother Nature's munificence, we may be in good shape when the rains roll out and April rolls in.

But I'm still having some trouble getting used to "Winter" in the valley, where Christmas lights are draped over a blooming lemon tree and snake through window boxes full of blooming annuals that would have long since perished in the hard New England frosts.

The lemons are ripe and the lemon tree is in full bloom, as are the snapdragons in the window box.

The coleus were pulled two weeks ago after they became leggy and went to seed (neglect on my part) and were replaced with pansies which thrive in the cooler temperatures.  But the calibrachoa is thriving and still has a couple of blossoms.  

Chanukah, 2015 with a Boston Fern thriving outdoors -- not in Boston!

Chanukah lights weaving through blooming annuals and the lemon tree.

Watching the storms move in across the hills and up from San Pablo Bay is fascinating.  In early November, I tuned into the mid-day news one day and heard that we would be having severe weather by 2 PM.

Outside, the sky was bright blue, the sun was shining, and the temperature was a balmy 66 degrees. 

I waited patiently but the promised rain didn't materialize and so just shy of 4 PM I got ready to walk the dogs over to the park where we usually get our afternoon exercise.  As I was getting a sweater and leashes, I heard what sounded like thunder claps and then the living room suddenly became dark.

When I looked out, I was shocked to see a fast-moving storm had blown in.  Lightening joined the thunder and torrential rain broke through the clouds and gave way to pelting hail.  The storm barely lasted an hour but dropped just over a half inch of new rain on the sun parched earth. It moved out as quickly as it moved in and when the sun finally poked back through the clouds, the temperature was a brisk 51 degrees F.

 

The storm moved in quickly and the blue sky disappeared under the roiling gray clouds.

This was the angriest cloud and the backdrop for much of the lightening.

Just as quickly as the clouds rolled in, they blew out and to the east.

 

 

 

We are finally registering the typical winter temperatures usually seen in this climate for this time of year.  Mid to high 30's into the low 40's at night, high 50's into the low 60's during the day.  We've had rain on and off throughout the last 8 weeks but rarely more than several hours at a time. Many of those days, it rained heavily overnight but the sun rose to clear skies.

We close out 2015 with blue skies, brisk temperatures in the mid-50's, and the prospect of generous rainfall over the next 8 weeks from an enthusiastic el nino.  That would indeed be a Happy New Year.

Sunrise, Sunset

Here in the Napa Valley, where we can go weeks or months without clouds or rain, thunderstorms are such a rare occurrence, they are a media event and sunrise and sunset are magical times of the day.  There is no question we had some exquisite sunsets on the East Coast, but they occurred far less frequently than we see them here, mostly due to the weather.  And unlike here, a colorful sunrise on the East Coast signified bad weather in the offing.  

That old sailor's ditty, "Red sky at night, sailor's delight, red sky at morning, sailors take warning." held true where we lived on the Northeast Coast of Massachusetts. Here, a gorgeous, brilliant colored sunrise usually gives way to bright blue skies with no stormy weather in sight, often to our dismay.

I love to watch the sun rise over the hills behind our house. On a clear sky morning, the colors are amazing and the presence of high thin clouds adds to the magic. 

Sunrise here is also later than on the East Coast, mostly, I think, due to the change in latitude. The closer you are to the Equator, the later the sun rises and the earlier it sets. 

Today, for example, the sun rose at 7:19 AM and will set here at 6:17 PM.  And the sky doesn't begin to brighten well before sunrise the way it does in New England. The sky is dark almost until the sun starts to edge over the horizon and likewise in the evening, when the sun goes down, we don't have the kind of "dusk" that we have in New England. This has taken some getting used to for me.

In contrast, in Boston today, the sun rose at 7:10 AM and will set at 5:46 PM, but both morning twilight and evening dusk are much longer in the northern, eastern city of Boston where the skies were beginning to lighten before 6:30 and will still be light enough for sailors to see the horizon at almost 7 PM.

This morning, the skies are overcast and we had dense fog, although there is no precipitation in the forecast. It was such a contrast to the glorious sunrise I photographed three days ago, which is our "norm". The sky was so grey and the fog was so thick, you couldn't see the hills behind the house.

Now that fall is here, we see more radiation fog,.  As the days shorten and the nights get longer, the air is much cooler for a greater part of the day/night cycle. The land and water surfaces are still warm, much warmer than the air, as they retain the heat from the summer and from the sun. The cool, night time air passing over the warm land and water (we border the Napa RIver delta where it empties into San Pablo Bay) results in fog.

The fog usually burns off by late morning and then the sky is brilliant blue and the temperature rises rapidly.  Currently, it's a cool and somewhat damp 55 degrees but by 3 PM the temperature will have climbed to at least 75 degrees, possibly a bit higher.

Brilliant colors across the eastern sky as the sun rises over the horizon.

Taken two days ago, there was fog hovering over the hills and clouds low in the sky.  When the sun came up over the fog line, it cast a glorious glow on the clouds and the hills.

Sunset, looking west over the Napa River delta at Waters Edge Drive, our favorite place to watch the sun set here in town.

As the sun sinks below the horizon, the colors of the sky become more vivid.

Above and Below:  Looking east during sunset, although the setting sun is not visible from our apartment, the brilliant red of the setting sun is reflected in the clouds all over the sky.

Extreme Weather: Neither Rain nor Hail....

December, 2011

Spring arrived early after a mild winter and while I don't want to appear ungrateful for this marvelously mild and pleasant weather, the impact of this climatological aberrance is not insignificant.

We picked fresh herbs all winter - unheard of in New England, where our herbs (even perennials like mint) are usually dormant and buried under snow from November through February and often well into March and beyond.

In December, the lavender was still green and roses still had buds. This same week the previous year, we had a three day snowstorm that dumped over two feet of new snow on already over-sized snowbanks.

Ordinarily, March brings snow melt that nurtures the spring gardens and fills the ponds, rivers and streams.  But minimal snow and a cumulative rainfall that is a full 8 inches shy of the average amount we would ordinarily have received since January 1 is definitely a cause for concern. For the first time in recent memory, we had public advisories for an elevated fire risk of brush fires in March!

February 4, 2011

The average annual snowfall in our area is about 3.5 feet.

Last year we were snowed in under a total of nearly 9 feet while this year our total accumulation was a fraction of that at under a foot.

It's hard to believe that a year ago, we were digging out from mountains of snow that were higher than our car. 

This year, during that same week in February, the Peggy Martin rose was sprouting leaves and sending forth fresh green shoots and Sweet Autumn clematis wound its way among her canes.

We were harvesting fresh herbs, and rock cress was spreading along the fence near the woodland garden.

When does that happen in Massachusetts in February?

The lack of snow melt and precipitation has been of particular concern.  For weeks there have been warnings of an increased risk of brush fires.  We've watched the water levels of local rivers and creeks drop to unusually low levels.

But in a world where you need to be careful what you wish for, we were stunned when a prediction of rain showers turned into a major hail storm!  Barely an hour after the lettuce, pansies, and ranunculus were firmly tucked into the raised beds on the deck, the heavens opened up and hail pelted down.  The icy covering melted the same day, small comfort to the lettuce that curled up under the barrage.  This hail storm happened on April 12, 2012.

April 12, 2012:  The sky was overcast and showers were predicted.  Suddenly, hail was pelting the driveway, pavement, and flower beds.

We had just finished cleaning out the raised beds on the deck and setting in the ranunculus, pansies, and lettuce.

Before the hailstorm subsided, we had a half inch to an inch of ice covering everything.  Fortunately, it melted within a few hours. But most of the lettuce was a total loss and we had to purchase fresh flats and replant.

The camera captured the force of the ice pellets as they bounced on the deck.

As we are known to say in New England, "If you don't like the weather, wait ten minutes."   Finally, after a wait of nearly two months, our most substantial precipitation yet this winter - just over 4.5 inches of rain - fell over the course of the last two days.  

Two days of rain raised the level of the pond considerably.

The rain was most welcome, but I would have preferred to have had it spread out over a week or two. That much rain all at once brings its own set of concerns.   Torrential rains raised the water level in the koi pond to a problematic high... problematic because it opened up the possibility that our koi could actually jump out of the pond, something that happened once before on the heels of torrential rains.

But with the water over the lowest edging rocks, the koi were able to swim up onto the rocks on the south side of the pond especially, and I was very concerned they would either land on the patio if they jumped, or injure themselves on the rough surface of stones.

Katie (L) and Emily (R) watch the koi.

I need not have worried.  Two of our erstwhile Cavalier King Charles Spaniels appointed themselves Guardians of the Fish and stood watch along the edge of the pond, barking when the koi seemed too close to the edge or jumped up and broke the surface of the water as they explored the new landscape.

Watching them over the course of an hour as I set up the sump to drain away a couple of inches and lower the water to a safer level for the koi, I couldn't help but chuckle at Emily, our 8 year old ruby Cavalier.  She would bravely walk to the edge and lean over to bark at the fish as they swam around.

When one of the koi got too close, Em jumped away and yelped.

But if one swam too close to her rock or - heaven forbid -  jumped up and out of the water in front of her, she'd jump back in fright!

Eventually, Katie, our 2 year old Blenheim, came to her assistance and both dogs spent over two hours patrolling the pond.

Emily is usually able to run around the pond, chasing after the koi as they swim back and forth.  But with the water over the top of some of the rocks, she almost ended up going in for a swim herself.

The koi seemed intrigued by their ability to get within a hair's breadth of the dogs.

Katie, at her sentry post.

Can you see them?  They're right there?

Where are  you....

There you are!

Pearly (L) and Streak (R) were jumping up and flopping back into the water and swimming as close to the rocks in front of the dogs as possible.

One of the butterfly koi, Sherbert, teasing the dogs....

Comet and Goldie, hovering in front of them.... ignoring the barking.  Goldie managed to escape the pond last summer after a similar downpour dramatically raised the water level, scaring Katie half to death.   In fact, it was Katie's barking and howling that alerted me to the situation and I was able to get Goldie safely back in the pond without injury.

  

The way the fish seemed to congregate and show off in front of the dogs, it almost seemed as if they were deliberately teasing them.  Are koi that intelligent, I wonder?