Friday night we had a heck of a storm. It was strange that it was all over so fast, from onset to back to complete calm in 12 hours, with the storm blast lasting about four hours long. However, it was the highest winds we’ve ever experienced here, stronger gusts than Hurricane Dorian brought not too long ago. I know, because it blew over a beehive, and that’s never happened before.
The wind was the kind you don’t sleep though, jostling me on the bed and making the lamps swing as it shook the house. I was concerned about the “new greenhouse” that hadn’t yet been tested. After the big gusts that sounded disturbing, I’d walk out to see if the plastic was tearing off of either hoop house. It wasn’t. There was a lot of strain on the ends, and the door on the small house ripped off.
I came back in and happened to glance outside… horror! A beehive was missing! I rushed back out, and Violet was thrown over, lid off. The bees were slowly oozing out and permeating the fallen-out hay that had been insulating their eke. I tucked the hay back in, stood the hive back up, and hugged it to shift it into place. That was a mistake. There were plenty of bees pooling around their door on the outside that transferred to me, and started crawling up my sleeves and stinging me though my pajamas. “I’m helping you!” I shouted at them over the wind. About a handful of bees were lost, spilled out and dead of exposure. Another half dozen had to be plucked off me and flicked back inside.
Retrieving Violet’s lid is when I noticed that the lids had blown off all the other hives, also never happened before. It wouldn’t have affected the bees more than causing a draft. When I got everything reassembled, weighted down, and propped up, the peak of the storm had passed, and I could sleep. Good to know everything can hold up.
Times like this I love that we don’t have power to go out, because it surely would. We’re getting a storm more appropriate to January, not March. After a month of no snow, lots of sun, and temps so warm I was able to feed my bees (so glad of that now), wham! Dumping snow, howling winds.
Sticky snow, that looks so cool stuck on the windward side of everything. The house is being battered by wind, but really, sound is dampened by the think blanket of snow on all the trees.
And in the peaceful woods, there’s a chickadee bopping around. It popped out of one of the laden spruces, which strikes me as an excellent choice of hideout:And in the middle of it, some birds still avidly feeding. From bed we watch the horizontal snow, and birds riding it out on the waving branches, beaks into the wind.
I woke up to a blizzard and a handful of birds plaintively crying and fighting over the bird feeder. Right at dawn- early birds! Hey, it snowed! There’s no food. Only so many birds can get in the feeder at once. There was snow, and wind, and we had to go out multiple times during the day to refresh the food on the snow for the birds who were struggling in the wind. They would sit in the tree all facing the same way so the wind didn’t ruffle their feathers, hanging on and riding the bouncing branches until there was too big a gust
Maritime Canada and Eastern US is being pummeled by an epic storm, and I’m not at home. HW is holding down the fort, (perhaps literally, in the gale), and I hear a chick has hatched for Brown Bonnet in the broody kennel. She’s now comfortably in the house, working on her pet chicken status. (It was only a matter of time. Whomever I once confidently told that I would “never have hens in the house” … yeah, yeah, ok). All the hype about these storms rolling through is making me suspicious. Isn’t this phenomena also known as … winter?
And why all these names? There really isn’t anywhere to go from “Bomb Cyclone”. That seems to set up an expectation, like it might be disappointing if it turns out not to be aggressively destructive; if it turns out to be, simply, a storm. With rain, snow, and high winds.
To compare, this is the 20 year anniversary of the truly epic cataclysm in Ontario and Quebec, and it’s known as “The Ice Storm” (dignified and deserved capitalization).
It seems here in Nova Scotia we’re getting a piece of the rainstorm that has been creeping up the Eastern coast and is currently flooding Ontario and Quebec, and New Brunswick.
After a mostly just drizzly day, the rain is hammering down now, and the wind is gusting. The ground is too saturated to absorb any more water, and all my water collection vessels are full to the brim.
The hens spent the day ducking into the greenhouse when it squalled (I´m so loth to evict them, although it´s about time to plant the second half); the pigs spent much of the day in bed, staying dry.
What really matters to me when the house is hammered by wind and rain is knowing that all my animals are as dry and cozy as we are in the little house. The hens are hunkered in tight, tested coops; the pigs are on a pallet piled with hay, above the rising puddles in their house; the bees were flying today, their hive is lashed down and they have a jar of syrup; and the guineas are high and dry (literally) on their tall coop, still in the greenhouse.
A proper storm’s blowing up. The kind where snow swirls in the door when you open it and the wind is biting. Sleet is skittering on the steel roof and the white stuff is starting to accumulate.
The hens are conserving their energy. Only two eggs today – two! Today was a nice days, but obviously their inner barometers consider the future, and said to hold on to their egg energy.
We’re supposed to get 30-40cm (1ft), which will be cool in ways- it will be normal; feel like a proper Canadian winter. The winter so far has been weird as heck, with yoyo-ing temperatures, and not very much snow. It might be a snow day! It’s fun to be snowed in. It would be nice for the ground to get a blanket on it.
Not so cool – it’s bound to knock half the province out of power again and make it dangerous and miserable for anyone who can’t have a fun snow day. Plus it will be mad drifted with the wind.
Roads closed all around us now by avalanches and winds up to 50m/sec (180km/h!) We walked two blocks in the scouring blizzard winds and had snow driven through our clothes and cut our eyes.
It’s creating beautiful effects and building drifts but we are very stuck in Suðavík as all roads out of the Westfjords are closed.