November 14, 2018 by Born To Organize

The New Abnormal

Assorted succulents against a back drop of Salvia (Mexican Sage)

It’s been a trying time in our beautiful state.

California Gov. Jerry Brown (D) in a Sunday press conference called the wildfires ravaging the state “the new abnormal,” warning environmental disasters will only “intensify” over the next two decades.

“Unfortunately, the best science is telling us that dryness, warmth, drought, all those things, they’re going to intensify,” he added.

I’ve been thinking back to my small efforts to bring my garden into alignment with the realities of living in our semi-arid state. They seem trivial now as we wait for rain, watching helplessly as forests burn, destroying homes and lives.

Succulents originate from dry, desert locations

Succulent comes from the Latin word “sucus”

My friend Laura moved to Paradise, California in June, looking forward to starting a slower-paced life away from Silicon Valley. She’s been fixing up their new home, installing a fence to contain their dog and choosing paint colors for the walls. Their contractor just finished a stairway to the deck.

Last Thursday, Laura’s family and others fled the small town of Paradise as one of the fastest moving and most destructive fires in California history tore through her town. Harrowing tales of fleeing down the highway with walls of flames on both sides are the norm. As of this writing, 138,000 acres burned, over 10,000 structures including homes have been destroyed and the death toll today climbed to 56. 52,000 people have been evacuated.

Succulents thrive in sunlight and dry air

On Sunday, Laura learned that her home was one of the 5% that survived, but it’s small comfort. The fire is expecting to burn for another two weeks, and when it’s finally out, the infrastructure is gone. Without phone lines, cell towers or electricity, there isn’t much to go back to. She’s staying here in the Valley with her folks, desperate to return home and hoping her cat is okay.

Meanwhile, a second massive fire burns in Southern California.

Cacti are succulents, but not all succulents are cacti

Our beautiful planet must surely weep with the agony of her destruction.

I appreciate all my friends out of the area that have reached out in concern. We live in Silicon Valley, and though close to forested areas, we’re a safe distance from the flames. Smoke from the fires hangs over the Bay Area, creating unhealthy air quality for a week. Schools are keeping children indoors and local marathons and foot races cancelled till further notice.

There is a sense of collective grief, with everyone knowing someone that’s been affected by these fires. We all want to help.

Grey skies from smoke

For now, we wait and hope.

October 22, 2012 by Born To Organize

Is it Safe to Talk About the Weather?

Camellia in the rain

The presidential election in the United States is two weeks from tomorrow.

So…lets talk about the weather. It’s the safest subject I know of, and one everyone can agree on. If it’s raining, it’s raining; if it’s not, it’s not. Right?

If I were a political pundit, I might need to make the case that it rained “really hard this morning,” while my opponent might say “it was really just a trickle.” Was it a shower or a downpour? It all depends on who you ask.

Some may say “It was less than an inch,” while shaking their head in dismay. Others will exclaim, “Wow…we got close to an inch of rain!” while grinning like a Cheshire cat.

A reporter might follow-up with, “Is global warming responsible for this erratic weather?”

“Global warming is likely the culprit,” says one party.

“Global warming is a myth,” rebuts the other.

I walked out my front door today and discovered a cool, wet and long-overdue fall morning. On that at least, the greenest party would agree.

A raindrop clings to the tip of a leaf

Look closely. What do you see?

Azalea in the rain

Halloween Countdown

Heat Map Pumpkins

March 12, 2012 by Born To Organize

Maple Musings

Close Up

Rain is in the forecast again this week, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up. As we come to the end of this La Niña year, experts predict one of the lowest rainfall seasons recorded for San Jose. Other than a few cold days here and there, it’s been a surprisingly mild winter as well. All this adds up to confusion in the garden.

Our beautiful maple tree generally starts dropping leaves in the fall, and after a few good storms, the branches remain bare till spring. Around March, the maple’s internal clock knows to send out buds and shoots and little fruit known as winged samara. In a matter of days the tree dresses in rich, red leaves.

This year, only a few leaves dropped. They turned brown on schedule, but without the rain or wind, the leaves remained. A friend asked if the tree was dead and who could blame her: such odd behavior for a deciduous tree.

It’s been a rough season for allergy sufferers as well. Early blooms from over-stressed trees wreak havoc on sinuses. In my California backyard, one lone maple provides color and shade, but states like Vermont have cause for concern. Trees need cold nights followed by warm days to produce maple syrup. According to Tim Perkins, director of the University of Vermont Proctor Maple Research Center:

“Sap flows best on warm, sunny days followed by nights that dip below freezing. The fluctuations are key: Cold nights contract air bubbles within the tree, producing suction that draws sap from the ground into the tree, where it mixes with sugar and freezes; warm days thaw the sap and expand the air bubbles, creating pressure that makes the sap flow into buckets or tubing, said Tim Perkins, director of the University of Vermont Proctor Maple Research Center, who has studied climate change’s impact on the maple industry.

Perkins predicts that climate change over roughly the next hundred years will result in the loss of maple trees across much of New England, according to congressional testimony he offered in 2007.”

As I muse on our lone maple tree within our suburban setting, I’m intrigued at the parallels on a grander scale, and what it means for us all. I’m worried.