Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

Odd thing I just came across: Christopher Burt, the Weather Underground weather historian, looked into trends, if any, in annual and decadal snowfall amounts (decades with most and least snow, and the averages) in the US since 1900. Conclusion: it's hard to figure out much, because the data just aren't good enough.

"Inherent Problems with the Data" is the subhead on about a third of the article. The main problem is that measuring techniques have changed over time, in ways that change the results. Different sites changed at different times, which means that correcting for this would be a lot of work. (A lot of work at best--that assumes that the records document how the numbers were measured.)

He then says

it is still worth mentioning some general trends:
—The 1920s and 1930s seem to have been the least snowy decades since 1900.
—The 1960s and 1970s seem to have been the snowiest decades since 1900.
—Snowfall in the nine-year period of 2011-2019 means that the 2010s will be Boston’s snowiest decade, while the period was less snowy than any prior decade on record for Washington, D.C., and Raleigh, North Carolina. Snowfall averaged above normal from Philadelphia northward and below normal south of there.

Yesterday's discovery is that on a really clear day, I can see Mount Rainier from parts of Bellevue Downtown Park. It was a gorgeous January day, of the sort that I am used to from back east: clear, sunny, temperature in the mid-40s F (7 or 8 C). We've been getting quite a few bright sunny days, which I gather is thoroughly unusual. I may stop throwing on clothes and dashing outside at the first sign of sunlight, if this continues.

I solved the bra problem (which I was grumbling about a few weeks ago). Macy's, unlike Nordstrom, carries the brand I'm used to buying, and Bali makes a few styles of 38C bras that I like, all of them without underwire. (They do make bras with underwires, but unlike some companies they don't insist on that.)

Vanguard last night was fun: Jerry and Suzle hosted, and there was what felt like a fairly large crowd. This may be because it was cool enough that the party was indoors except for a few people who went outside to smoke: a few months ago at Kate and Glenn's, nonsmokers were also hanging out outside. Kate and Glenn (who were taking someone else downtown) gave me a ride to the bus tunnel, so I only had to wait for one bus, and worry less about schedules.

roadnotes came to visit us this afternoon; we had some good conversation, and she took some of our unwanted books home with her. (I have been donating them, a backpack full at a time, to the Friends of the Library, but there are a lot left.)

I took advantage of the monthly free day at the Seattle Art Museum to see the Peru exhibit on Thursday. It was good, but crowded (of course) and I got to feeling that I had looked at enough religious art already (representing a variety of religions at different times). My after-lunch wandering through some of the other galleries was more fun, because more relaxed. In between, I got a light lunch at the Crumpet Shop, a potentially dangerous place—they will sell you a bottomless cup of tea, and it's good tea—and had a nice conversation with someone who asked if she could share my table. I had been about to leave, but we were having fun talking, so I got some more tea and stayed a while.

I was just out in the park after the rain, just enjoying looking around and walking in sunlight after days of gray and wet. The park, and the city as a whole, is still incredibly green, enough so that for the last week or so cattitude and I have been saying "It's still all green" as we walk to the subway in the morning This isn't quite true: here and there is yellow of a tulip tree, or a single oak going red-brown while the rest are still summer green. The Virginia creeper is brilliant red, and the ailanthus are all yellow. But we're pointing out individual bits of color on a green background, not a pattern of reds and yellows.

There aren't a lot of ailanthus here. What there's a lot of is the oaks, the hickory, the maple and tulip trees, and the firs. A few willows down by the river, which are quietly dropping leaves on windy days. Green leaves, not yellow. Birch trees in the hilly bits.

There's one tree in front of our building that always turns early, and that is coming up red, as always, but later than its usual. There are lush green lawns, grass and clover and late dandelion. Green reeds in the salt marsh. The maples are still green, and the ginkgos and locusts. The hawthorns are gorgeous from 20 or 30 or 50 meters away, green leaves above a hazy redness of berries. Day by day, it's pleasant, but this is late for it to look and feel like early autumn. I don't know if it's all going to go "whump" like a cartoon on November 1, or if it will flow as usual, but later.

A fortnight ago, I was walking downtown with Cattitude on our way back from dinner, looked idly at a street tree and then said "wait a minute." Two Callery pear trees, in bloom, as if it was April. I suppose that fits a year that started with ornamental cherries blooming in Chinatown in January, before it really got cold.

Memo to self: climate is a long-term average. Weather is what actually happens, day by day.

Meanwhile, our friends at the National Weather Service note that not only was the last snow in Central Park back in April, and that this is the first December without a flurry since 1877.

Montreal showed me just enough snow--a centimeter or two fallen a day before I arrived--to look like winter, though the Montrealers wonder where their winter is, too.

cattitude and I went for a walk in Inwood Hill Park earlier today, just to get out, see and smell and maybe listen. There were quite a few violets in bloom: the one under the willow is still there, and we saw several on the strip between the soccer field and the hills. Jewelweed is also still blooming, some pale yellow and a few bright red. Dandelions aren't a surprise, even much later than this. The odd little flowers one reference called "lady's thumb" are there in quantity, both pink and white. The clover is still in bloom, mostly white, but we saw one large pink flower.

We saw kinglets in the trees again, passing through on their way south; a bit late by the calendar, but seeming synchronized with the leaves. Mallards and geese, of course.

The dominant color of the trees is now yellow; it was still green a few days ago. There are nice bits of red, again, and the foliage is sparser. The willows are bare, and the berries are more visible on the hawthorne.

We haven't had a frost here yet, though I wore my travel cardigan under my fall jacket on Friday. (That combination will keep me down to freezing, or a bit above and windy, which Friday was.)

I pointed out Cattitude that one of the recently planted pines on the slope between Indian Road and the inlet is mature and healthy enough to have dropped a few pine cones, which I noticed a few days ago. (The other three near it haven't, and one of them looks a bit sickly.)

According to the National Hurricane Center,

Only one tropical cyclone existed in the Atlantic basin during October. Isaac...which developed in September...was still a hurricane as the month of October began. The last time no tropical storms formed in the Atlantic during the month of October was 2002...and the last time no tropical cyclones formed during October was 1994. In an average October...two tropical storms develop of which one becomes a hurricane.

So this is unusual but hardly unprecedented.