Electricity

Our electric company - Public Service of New Hampshire (PSNH) -- included an interesting chart with our most recent billing. A few years ago the NH Legislature passed a law requiring electric suppliers to disclose all energy sources and their air emissions characteristics. Here is the chart for our electricity supply, which comes from the New England power grid via PSNH (click on chart to enlarge) -- it is a little light so perhaps hard to read.

A couple key points from the chart:

• The percentage of renewables in the mix is 19% for PSNH and 12% region-wide. Hydropower (9%) and wood (5.7%) are the biggest sources. Solar is less than 1%; other minor sources include landfill gas, wind, municipal waste, and biomass.
• The non-renewables mix at 80% for PSNH includes: coal (60.9%), gas (11.8%), nuclear (5.9%), oil (<1%), jet (<1%).
• The air emissions -- carbon dioxide, nitrogen oxide, sulfur dioxide -- for the PSNH mix are much worse than for the New England mix, presumably because of the high proportion of coal (60%) in the PSNH mix versus 11.8% coal in the regional mix.
• Although the New England mix has less renewable sources in the mix (12%), the air emissions from the mix is far better, with a greater reliance on nuclear and gas and much less on coal.

The main conclusion that I draw from this information is that most of our electricity comes from air polluting fossil fuels. Unless we become self-sufficient and get off the grid, we are part of this polluting industry. And as far as I can tell, PSNH is our only choice for electricity supply. Our best contribution is to be as energy efficient as possible and reduce our use of electricity where possible. We try.

A Red Flag Day

The National Weather Service in Gray, Maine posted a red flag warning today for our area. The combination of low relative humidity and strong winds has created a very high fire danger. The daffodils are nodding and the crocuses are closed up like champagne flutes, with the dip in temperatures and the cold winds.

One great benefit of these conditions is that the garden is dry. I am expanding the vegetable gardens again this year and the conditions are perfect for such work: cool temperatures, dry soil, and no bugs. Shovelful by shovelful I am converting more of our lawn to longer and wider garden rows. Each spade of dirt exposed a few worms (good) and some grubs (bad). The grub population seems to be down (good) given the few that I dispatched today.

I returned to New Roots Farm this morning for the start of the gardening season. Today I transplanted small tomato, eggplant, and pepper seedlings into bigger cells. It felt good to work the potting soil and lift the delicate seedlings from one growing cell into another. The greenhouse was warm; we stripped down to t-shirts, while cold winds whipped around outside. Farmer Renee thinned and transplanted tiny basil plants. I brought home a bag of the discarded thinned basil to make pesto.

Yesterday seemed like a red flag day too. Kodi and I spent some time at one of our favorite beaver wetlands in Durham. I sat near shore next to a sun-draped giant boulder that was protected from the wind. A group of tree swallows skimmed the water's surface, flying in acrobatic patterns that rivaled any airshow. I heard a kingfisher rattle from a snag in the water, before the wind whisked away its call.

The red flag warning has little bearing on the spring emergence of wild plants. The tussock sedge, Canada mayflower, and blue flag iris are sending up green shoots. For now there is enough moisture in the woods and wetlands. For the gardens we are thinking that rain barrels and soaker hoses will be a must for the 2012 growing season if the current weather trends continue. In the meantime, I have some basil pesto to tend to.

Bees and Phoebes and Spring Flowers

Last week's well-above normal temperatures sped up the spring timetable. We sat on our east-facing deck in the early evenings as birds went about their busy lives. A pair of phoebes perched in the crabapple--the crooked one that I sculpted with the pruning loppers. The tree is a perfect perch for the phoebes as it grows only 15 feet from the deck, where they nest each year.

Meanwhile on the south-facing side of the house, where the sun warms the gable ends, carpenter bees were busy all week. The overwintering adults emerged from their excavated tunnels, mated, and set about nesting and laying eggs. On the driveway below, the dead males were piling up, while the females excavated each chamber, deposited an egg, supplied it with "bee bread" (a mixture of pollen and nectar), and then plugged it with a wad of sawdust.

Carpenter bees and bumble bees resemble each other; both are native bees and important pollinators. The carpenter bee has a shiny black abdomen, while bumblebees have hairy abdomens. They differ in their habits as well. Bumblebees nest in the ground and are more social. The carpenter bee, as its name suggests, nests in wood, such as under the eaves of our house. The male carpenter bee buzzes and hovers and sounds and looks menacing as it patrols its territory, but it is harmless as it has no stinger. Here is a male carpenter bee lying dead on the driveway, with a yellow patch on its forehead; females have no color patch.

As honey bee colonies have collapsed in recent years due to various maladies, more attention is focused on our native bees--including bumblebees and carpenter bees--and their importance for pollination of vegetables, fruit trees, and flowers. As bees emerge early in spring they need a source of nectar from now till fall. One of the earliest plants available to them are the willows along with red maples. Thanks to the warm temperatures many of the willows are in full bloom, although we have none in our yard (yet). These willows were seen on one of our walkabouts with Kodi.

A local farmer has plowed his cornfield already, although planting is likely still a ways off. We saw our first road-killed snake--a small brown snake that lived in the fields along Bald Hill Road, but ventured out to the pavement to sun itself. From now until fall we will see too many that won't make it back to the field.

This morning I woke to the soothing sound of rain drops. The air and soil felt parched last week with several days in a row in the mid-80s. The rain was welcome as are the cooler temperatures for the coming week. At a glance the woodlands are already showing their late spring colors: the reds of the red maple flowers, snow white magnolia flowers, sunny yellow forsythia and spicebush in full bloom, and the soft green of woodland shrubs beginning their leaf-out.

We have to remind ourselves that it is still too early to plant in the garden, although the weeding has already begun as the unwanted plants seem to flourish everywhere that I don't want them. For a change I am glad to see the clouds, to feel the raindrops on my face and the coolness of the air.

The Woodland Trickster

Today felt like a lazy June day. A day when the temperature gets a little too warm. When a walk in the woods at mid-day makes your arms sweat just a bit, making them feel clammy in the dry warm air. As I sat by a languid river flies buzzed in the patch of sunlight on the forest floor. Surely this is not just the beginning of spring.

I shake myself free of my summer stupor. As I walk farther along I hear the trickster of woodland pools: the wood frog with its black mask and mating calls that sound so much like quacking ducks and not at all like a frog. And I know it really is still spring. Then I hear the soft trill of the pine warblers that just arrived today from their southern U.S. wintering grounds. The warbler so well-named since it spends most of its breeding season in white pines.

The lilac leaf buds suddenly burst open. Everything is happening so fast; I have to stay vigilant on my yard walkabouts so as not to miss something exciting. The tulips have shot up so fast that I expect a flower bud to appear any day. I wake each day now with great anticipation on what new things I might see or hear or smell.

Srini and I thought we should get a rain barrel to hook up to our downspout. We might need extra water this year, at this pace. March is looking like a dry month. No wonder the wood frog has evolved to breed early in spring when there is still water in their ephemeral pools. Some years the pools dry up early so they better be quick with the quack.

Gardening on the Vernal Equinox

It is Springtime in New Hampshire. The phoebe arrived in our yard on Saturday while I was away. Srini noted its arrival. I heard its familiar raspy phoe-be yesterday while hanging out laundry on a 75 degree day.

Earlier, on our morning walk, we saw the slender crescent moon rising just before sunrise as it heads toward new moon this week. While we gazed at the stars and the moon and the growing light we listened to the now daily woodcock peents. A turkey gobbled from the hardwoods on Bald Hill. The great horned owl hooted from the big pines along the wetland edge. Mallards quacked to each other from the wetland and a band of spring peepers joined the dawn chorus.

Today, we celebrate the vernal equinox, with equal parts night and day, when the sun rises due east and sets due west. Although to be precise, apparently there is already a little more day than night on the first day of spring. And more daylight to celebrate each day forward.

I messed around in the yard today. It felt good, although a little early, to be working on my garden rows. The soil is so dry I can transplant the rhubarb and plant cilantro. As warm as it will be this week--80s for three days in a row--watering is required. In March!

As I was gardening, a pair of red-shouldered hawks circled and soared overhead, their loud, clear keeyuur keeyuur calls to each other drew my attention skyward.

It is Springtime.

Springtime at Winterberry Farm

A black ant crawls across the sunny bathroom floor, the first house ant of the year. I'm at Winterberry Farm in western Massachusetts this weekend visiting my parents, where spring is just a bit ahead compared to southeast New Hampshire. The ants have not yet emerged at our house.

On my walkabout around the yard and down into the back forty this afternoon there was plenty to notice, although you had to look close at times.  Last fall my dad and I cleared the woodland trail--it was littered with fallen limbs from the Halloween storm. This trail leads past a small hillside seep that is the first place to see skunk cabbage in March. The newly emerged leaves, known as the hood or the spathe, appear like tiny woodland sculptures, each one unique in shape and color pattern.

Spicebush shrubs dot the woodland near the skunk cabbage seep. The tiny flower buds, look like small round, yellow buttons along the stem. I break a twig and smell deeply of the spice.

Further along in my walk, along the wooded stream that drains down to the swamp, I find alders and red maples flowering. And a swamp sparrow sits quietly in a silky dogwood at the edge of the cattails, fluffing its feathers in the warm sun.

Up at the house the 90 tulips--planted by my brother last fall in celebration of mom's 90th--are a good four inches tall. Likewise the fall-planted garlic is four inches above the straw. And then there is the first crocus, so beautiful in the afternoon sun.

Beaver Ponds in Spring

The day started cloudy, which allowed the woodcock peenting and twittering to continue a little longer until 6:30 am or so this morning. The day unfolded much like yesterday, with temperatures reaching into the high 60s by mid-afternoon. A modest breeze and some cloudiness kept it from being a "too hot" day.

Kodi and I wandered the Sweet Trail today with friends and dogs. This is an especially great trail in spring as it passes many wetlands. And spring has arrived there, with the ponds mostly free of ice. A beaver in one of the bigger ponds was swimming about, touring its territory, warning us and its lodge mates with a couple loud slaps.The beavers were clearly busy with new harvesting operations to replenish the dam and lodge and to find fresh food.

The plethora of beaver ponds in this region between Durham and Newmarket lie within a large block of conserved land. The lands were conserved, in large part, to protect the wetlands and the ducks and other wildlife that use them. Many, many ducks pass through these wetlands during migration and many stay and nest. Today we saw a large flock of ring-necked ducks, perhaps the most beautiful native duck. These birds will continue on north to nest. Pairs of mallards and Canada geese have already staked out territories. Wood ducks and red-breasted mergansers were still checking things out.

Sunlight filtered down through the tall red oaks, a mourning cloak floated by. This large brown butterfly with bright yellow borders overwinters and is the first butterfly that we see in the spring each year. A few spring peppers, sounding like small birds in the trees, were peeping. They had not yet made the trek to the nearby ponds for breeding.

The common polypody has unfurled and looks lush on its sunny, rocky habitats.This warm air will continue to push things along.