New Bloom Thursday: Week 9

Once the amaryllis stem starts growing, it’s rather unstoppable, getting taller each day.  There’s a flower hidden in there and I’m excited to see it.

This year, the growing amaryllis is accompanied by green stems peaking out of the flowerbed soil.  The late amaryllis is just part of the strange weather we’ve had in the last few years.  It’s been a mild Winter, but we had a huge snow storm; the biggest I've ever experienced.  Last night, a late Winter night, 60 degree weather blew in with  a ferocious wind and rain storm, the sounds of which reminded me of a hurricane.  I’ve yet to see the damage in the light of morning, but I expect debris and branches everywhere.  My basement pump is furiously busy, moving water out every 5 minutes or so.  It’s not yet March, but the lion weather has arrived.

Meanwhile, the amaryllis is in the window, turning toward the sun and light.  There’s a bold flower in my future.  That’s happy!

Snowy Day

Count me among those who woke up this morning mighty relieved to find that we weren’t buried under a mountain of snow.  As I lay in the quiet, I was immensely grateful to hear the quiet tick of my alarm clock, a sure sign that we still had electricity.  The pre-storm forecast and my experience with Hurricane Sandy had me prepared for the prospect of disaster.  And while so many others are mocking the National Weather Service and other forecasters who got this storm wrong, I’m just glad to be safe.  

It’s hard to tell because of the blowing and drifting, but it looks like we got just short of a foot of snow in my corner of New Jersey.  More snow is coming down as I write this post.  Later today, JT and I will go out and clear a path.  For now, we’re enjoying the blessings of a snow day morning.    The weather looks to be significantly colder in the week ahead, with lows in the single digits by the weekend, so this snow will stick around for a while.  

In the last few years, it’s been my experience that weather extremes are on the increase.  Those extremes are driven by global climate change.  Our 21st century sensibilities seem to have convinced us that we have can know everything.  Alas, we cannot, especially in a period where the earth is adjusting to some significant alternations in the global climate.  To snidely comment on the errors of weather forecasters while a significant portion of the nation cheerfully ignores the obvious signs of man-made climate change seems like a dangerous combination of ignorance and hubris.  How about we instead count our blessings, share gratitude that this snowstorm wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and contemplate how we can ease the burden of our human actions on the only planet we have? 

In the Flood Zone

In the aftermath of Sandy, FEMA issued new flood maps for the coastal areas in my part of the world.  The objective of these flood maps is to map out areas where flooding is likely so that homeowners can make plans (some folks need to raise their homes) or pay flood insurance rates that reflect their actual potential for serious damage.  Both prospects are expensive, of course, but they are also what is required to live by the water in the world of climate change.  

Or so you would think.  As it turns out, the news that more homes are in the high-risk flood regions, information that is hardly surprising news for people who flooded last fall, has caused endless complaining and hand-wringing in New Jersey.  There has been enough complaining for FEMA to issue new maps.  The new maps show less risk, thus ensuring that these folks can get less-expensive flood insurance and will undertake less flood prevention measures.

That would be just fine with me if the homeowners were really on their own.  But in point of fact, when flooding happens, and it will happen, homeowners along the shore will want help from the rest of us.  They will want that help despite the obvious risks they undertook.  I find this terribly frustrating.  Folks who want to live by the water are undertaking a risk and I am all for allowing that risk as a personal choice.  However, let's generate cautious flood maps, ones that take account of the serious risks of living near the water, and force those who wish to do so to pay the real costs of that choice.

Let's also undertake to plan wisely for the climate change that is obviously already at our doorstep.  That's a project for citizens and their government and it won't be easy.  But it is a a lot easier than cleaning up the aftermath of disastrous storms.  And it is our responsibility to one another.  New York City's Mayor Bloomberg has a plan for discussion.  It's not perfect and it is controversial but it at least starts a conversation.  New Jersey should take a page from the Bloomburg playbook and start a serious conversation.  The current strategy of hiding our head in the sand is not going to help.

Hurricane Journal: Final Thoughts

Hurricane Sandy descended upon New Jersey one month ago today.  Weeks later, reading over my hurricane journal from the benefit of a warm, well-lit house, it seems like our experience was rather a penny crisis.  No one in my family was hurt and the damage to my house was both cosmetic and minor.  My friends also fared well.  Though my county was among the hardest hit, people in nearby areas like the Jersey Shore and Staten Island had far greater damage.  The state of New Jersey estimates that the storm caused more than 30 billion dollars worth of damage but I don't need that number to factor the devastation caused by the storm.   Every day I see stands of once-familiar woods rendered permanently changed by the sheer volume of trees felled.  Every street in my neighborhood features houses with damage, piles of branches, or trees chopped into firewood and stacked neatly.  My 8 cold dark days are more toward the long end of the electricity-free spectrum but on November 11, when I first started preparing these notes to post on my blog, more than 1,000 homes and businesses in New Jersey remained without power, not counting the homes on the shore that are destroyed for good or will remain inaccessible for months to come.  We were lucky and we are blessed.

Even so, I'm struck by the number of conversations about the storm that I still hear.  I am aware of the way some of the fear and anxiety of a week spent in the darkness and cold can linger.  When I finally took the plunge and drove to get heat and a semblance of normalcy on day six after the storm, I was still seriously concerned about the gasoline shortages.  My car was the only way I could charge my phone and our only sure way of getting warm, not to mention get out of the state should it come to that.  To let the gas tank get below half seemed risky.  Even six days after the storm, dozens of traffic lights remained down and most of my regular routes out of town were blocked off.  

For days after the storm, I would see power crews from other states and the sight of these fleets of trucks would bring sudden tears to my eyes.  I've written their names down, these strangers from states far away from New Jersey.  I saw trucks from Ohio, Connecticut, Illinois, Missouri, Mississippi, North Carolina, and Iowa.  A crew from Nebraska was responsible for re-connecting the wires at T's house.  I'm not sure I can express how much hope the sight of these crews inspired in me.  They were a welcome reminder that we weren't alone and that help was on the job.  I know it sounds corny, but I wrote the names of the companies down and I've sent every one of them a note to say thank you.   

I am more convinced than ever that extreme weather conditions like Sandy will be more common as we move forward.  I have enduring hope that as New Jersey and the area resumes its new normal, we will take action to prepare ourselves for our changing planet.  Updating the power grid, disaster preparedness, and responsible policies to curb global warming seem like such obvious policies to adopt.  I've long-favored them, of course, but these days the issue has risen to the top of my political priorities.  I suspect that I'm not alone.