But now there are things to be heard if one is at all attentive. At noontime on a sunny day the dooryard sparrows begin to test a few phrases of remembered song… From the woodland the male cardinal whistles as though he really means it… True, these are slight matters, particularly on a day when the wind has a wire edge and the threat of more snow. But spring is the sum of many things, and weather is only one of them. – Hal Borland

The Weather in the Week Ahead

 On Jan. 31, the sun passes a declination of 17 degrees and 40 minutes, one fourth of its way to spring equinox. Near this same day, a temperature pivot throws the entire northern and southern halves of the planet into reverse. And average temperatures start to rise throughout the country. Personal thermometers not only mark that process at home, but almost everywhere. And no matter where the starting point, the interval – the rate of increase – is almost the same in every part of the United States:

During February, for example, the rise in averages at Columbus, Ohio, is from 28 to 30 degrees. That interval is matched by Houston’s rise from 54 to 56, Memphis’ 42 to 45, Juneau’s 25 to 27, Denver’s 29 to 32, San Francisco’s 49 to 51, St Louis’ 32 to 35, Chicago’s 26 to 28. In western states more subject to the vast thaws sweeping up from the gulf, the jump is four to five degrees: Minneapolis averages move from 12 to 16 degrees, International Falls from 3 to 7.

These seemingly minor changes measure distance and time as well as temperature.  If we actually can’t see the days expanding by 90 seconds every 24 hours, even if we can’t walk north now through green Louisiana, we still can know for certain that our Spring is underway everywhere north of the equator. It will reach us when it should, and we will pick our daffodils in the middle of an ordered sequence that begins this January week along the southern beaches.

Natural Calendar

Cardinals, which sang only sporadically earlier in the month, have begun mating calls half an hour before dawn, doves, song sparrows and blue jays often joining their song. The first major waves of robins and bluebirds cross the Ohio River. On highways, roadkills attest to the increasing nighttime activities of skunks and opossums. Constellations of the Dog Days are rising: Lyra and Cygnus. Deep in the southeast, red Antares is glowing. Regulus leads Leo’s Sickle into the west.

As January wanes, Orion moves more westerly in the mid evening, and to the upper left of that vast group of stars, past Castor and Pollux, the stars of Cancer follow. After Cancer, and shaped like a sickle, comes Leo, easily found since Regulus, now the strongest star in the eastern sky, is its leading edge. Early mornings in late January bring May’s planting star, Arcturus, overhead. To the far east, the first dandelions can be flowering, snow crocus and henbit budding. Sometimes moss grows on logs. Sometimes tulip and grape hyacinth leaves are pushing out of the ground. Sometimes day lily foliage is up three inches, daffodil spears four to eight inches. When the sun is strong enough for all of that to happen, then flies hatch to warm themselves on the south side of your house, their soft presence almost tipping the delicate scale of time.

In the Field and Garden

Pruning is recommended for the next two weeks, as the moon wanes. Depending on where you live, this may be the time to lime your soil. Since lime reacts slowly with the ground, it should be worked in a few months before planting. Lime can also be applied to the surface for no-till fields.

Inspect young trees for rodent damage throughout the winter. Consider forage testing for your livestock soon if you suspect that quality is declining.

Some traditional supplements for your animals include a little whole barley, a teaspoon of molasses in a pint of milk, powdered slippery elm, calcium rich powdered willow bark, flaked oats, powdered seaweed, and mashed raw carrots. As with any supplement, use in moderation, and keep track of any results you notice.

The major lambing and kidding season now starts throughout the region: more lambs and kids are born in the next eight weeks than in any other months.

A light feeding in the morning, and a heavier feeding towards dark can provide your chickens with a little more heat as the mercury falls. Egg production can be expected to decline when highs stay below 30 degrees, but warm water may help keep the hens laying a little.

Frost-seed crops like red clover in the pastures, and scatter grass seed over bare spots on the lawn. Freezing and thawing plants the seeds.

Spray broad-leafed evergreens with anti-drying agent to prevent winterkill. Prepare landscaping, garden, and field maps, including plans for double cropping, intercropping, and companion planting.

The Countdown to Spring

• One week until the skunk cabbage blooms in the wetlands and cardinals begin their spring mating calls

• Two weeks until doves join the cardinals, and maple sap is running

• Three weeks to the very first snowdrop bloom and the official start of early spring

• Four weeks to major pussy willow emerging season

• Five weeks to crocus season

• Six weeks to the beginning of the morning robin chorus before sunrise

• Seven weeks to daffodil time

• Eight weeks to the major wildflower bloom

• Nine weeks until the yellow blossoms of forsythia bushes appear

Journal

2006: After a very mild January, I took inventory at the beginning of Late Winter. Snowdrops, some daffodils and hyacinths were up about an inch around the yard. Snow crocus were two inches above the mulch, ready to bud. Purple deadnettle, bittercress and chickweed were slowly spreading across the garden.

I found one new wild strawberry leaf, one new waterleaf sprout. There was fresh growth on the Japanese honeysuckle, leaves dark violet, venturing out from the axils of their woody vines. A few red nubs of peonies had appeared.

The foliage of the oak-leaf hydrangea had fallen in the past two weeks. The Osage fruits had turned deep red brown. The berries of the euonymus were falling from their decaying, once protective sepals. No pussy willow catkins were open yet; I cut a branch and brought it indoors, set it in a vase of warm water.

I walked beyond the covered bridge late in the afternoon with Bella, our border-collie-spaniel. The temperature was almost 60 degrees, the river high. Garlic mustard was lush on the hillsides. In protected hollows, cushions of chickweed were deep March green.

Black walnut hulls were dark and collapsing, fell away at the touch of my heel. Only a few box elder seeds were hanging from their branches, thinning now like the honeysuckle berries. Young poison hemlock was feathery and spreading. New ragwort and sweet rocket leaves were pushing up. Cautious skunk cabbage spears were just barely visible.

Even though I was a little disappointed at the slow progress of the plants during such a warm, month-long thaw, Bella had no reservations about the state of the landscape. A far better observer than I, she took a different inventory, and she ran and ran for joy once we reached the bright meadows below the Vale.