More Frosty Mornings

The heavy fog we had Friday and Saturday morning painted a fresh coat of thick frost over every twig and branch. We drove to the Missippippi to look for eagles on Saturday, and the frost followed us almost to the midday river and lingered even then in the shaded areas. Below are views looking roughly south and north on Highway 61 near Read's Landing. More about eagle-watching to come...

View Through Icicles

Above is the view from my upstairs bathroom window this morning. It isn't usual for large icicles like these to develop on the north side of the house , but the warmer temperatures, rain and freezing rain that we've experienced at times over the past couple of weeks have created perfect conditions for icicles. Unfortunately, their presence also suggests the possibility of ice dams on the roof which can lead to water back-up and infiltration through the shingles. Hopefully the new roofs most of us got following the big hailstorm of 2006 will be able to stand up to it.

The photo below was taken through the frost crystals that developed on the lower part of the storm window last night in the sharply colder temperatures (my desktop weather icon reads -7 F. as I write). What looks like the sun is actually a lamp on a utility pole in the backyard; its color is refracted (if that's the right word) through the frost and adds to the actual sunrise pink in the sky to give the appearance that the whole sky is glowing from an oddly-placed northeasterly sun. The lamp is barely visible through the central icicle in the top photo.

Hoarfrosty Morning

Here are some photos I took this morning, on Maple St. near Sibley School and down by the riverfront. In places, the frost is an inch thick.

Hoarfrost January 19 2010

First Hard Frost

The temperature dipped into the 20s yesterday morning and left swaths of frost across the Bald Spot at Carleton College. The cold triggered leaf-drop for many trees that had been holding onto their brilliant foliage for what seemed like longer than usual this fall; golden leaves were falling like rain all around town.

Hard Frost

A few days ago, based on the projections of my Desktop Weather gadget, I blithely mentioned that my last few green tomatoes might still have a chance of ripening on the vine, as no frost was predicted. Well, as it turns out, I saw frost on the roofs of most houses around here just about every morning this week, but my tomato plants remained unscathed. However, tonight in Northfield I see it's likely to be in the mid to upper 20s by the pre-dawn hours, and that's not something any tomato can withstand. So I've picked the last half-dozen small tomatoes. My growing season is over.

First Frost

Yesterday my desktop weather icon started flashing red to indicate a weather alert: a frost warning had been issued for a large swath of Minnesota. My backyard container garden of tomatoes and cucumbers has been looking wan and played-out lately anyway, but I've still been picking smallish fruit now and then and have hopes for a small continued harvest for another few weeks. So, along with many others last night. I hauled out sheets to cover the tender plants. This morning, though I couldn't see any signs of frost myself, my daughter on the phone from her dad's house (bubbling over with excitement at the thought of her first rehearsal with the Minnesota Youth Symphonies this morning in St. Paul) said there was a coating of frost on their grass that looked like a light snowfall.

Over my morning mug of tea, I finished the book Plenty: One Man, One Woman, and a Raucous Year of Eating Locally, by Alisa Smith and J.B. MacKinnon, who spent a year eating food almost entirely from within a 100-mile radius of their British Columbia home. That put me in the mood for the farmers market. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and my mood soared as I put on a sweater and light jacket and wondered vaguely where my gloves might be. I know people who sadden at the onset of fall because it is the first harbinger of winter, but I come alive with the cooler air. Fall is my favorite season. As I drove to the ATM to get money for the market, the First National Bank thermometer read 35 and I sang aloud to "Tiny Dancer" on the radio.

At the farmers market, it was clear that fall had arrived. I haven't been there for a couple of weeks or more. The winter squashes -- both edible and ornamental -- were everywhere. Late, partially green tomatoes and green peppers had clearly been picked in quantity yesterday to escape the ruining frost. I overheard Gary Vosejpka of Thorn Crest Farm saying he'd covered 1000 feet of young beans with tarps, looking ahead to more warm weather and hoping yet to bring those beans to harvest. That's a lot of tarps, and a lot of work.

For my $16 spent today, I came away with several large potatoes, a container of good-sized carrots and a big bunch of much smaller ones with greens attached, a loaf of freshly baked basil-and-garlic bread, a bunch of leeks, a large butternut squash, a large pattypan type squash, and a bag of tender-looking green beans. I've already trimmed and scrubbed the little carrots; they and some potatoes and leeks will go into a fish stew for dinner. Ah, the pleasure of being in the kitchen again after avoiding baking and long-simmering preparations for the past several months. Welcome, fall.