Digging Holes

Weather: The weather forecast had predicted a 60% chance of rain Monday, followed by cooler temperatures. That usually means no water, but maybe some relief from the heat.

Around 3:45 in the afternoon, the weather bureau reported "severe thunderstorms were located along a line extending from 7 miles southwest of Los Alamos to 8 miles southeast of White Rock, moving northeast at 45 mph. [...] 60 mph wind gusts and quarter size hail." [1] Ten minutes later our lights flickered, then went off for six hours.

We got strong winds and rain, but I don’t know how strong or how much. We don’t have a weather reporting site, and nothing happened in Los Alamos or Santa Fé. The heavy rain lasted for about an hour, then continued for another half hour. The elms were the noisiest amplifiers of the wind’s roar. Temperatures fell to 42 degrees or less; I had to use a manual thermometer since the digital one relied on electricity and only used it once.

When I ventured out, I found a dead trunk in the black locust copse had come down and some water puddled in low places I had created in the morning when I was grubbing out dandelions. Everything else seemed ok. I realized it was the first rain the bedding plants and new perennials had ever experienced.

We got more rain, with less wind and a little hail on Tuesday. This time, the storm was in the east and touched Santa Fé. Los Alamos also had a little rain and winds to 33 mph.

The local paper didn’t mention the outage in our area in its Thursday edition. The ones Amanda Martinez described started twenty minutes later and were caused by blown down poles and loosened lines. She also did not mention the wind velocity, but did say a science center in Alcalde reported .3" on an inch Monday and .2" on Tuesday. [2] I think the storm dissipated by the time it got that far north, and that we had more water.

Martinez also reported the county commissioners banned all burning on 10 May. [3] We officially are in an "extreme drought," with the Four Corners as the epicenter of an "exceptional drought." The weekly status appears on a map at http://droughtmonitor.unl.edu/CurrentMap.aspx.

Last rain: 5/22. Week’s low: 41 degrees F. Week’s high: 88 degrees F. Lowest relative humidity this past week: 4% in Santa Fé.

What’s blooming in the area: Catalpa, yellow and pink species roses, Dr. Huey and hybrid roses, pyracantha, snowball, black locust tree, purple-flowered locust shrub, silver lace vine, honeysuckle, red hot poker, peonies, Jupiter’s beard, snow-in-summer, purple salvia, datura, sweet pea, oriental poppy, pink evening primroses, blue flax

What’s blooming in my yard: Woodsii, rugosa and miniature roses, yellow potentilla, raspberry, beauty bush, cultivated tamarix, Russian olive, privet fragrant, chives, Dutch iris, vinca, Bath pinks, coral bells, golden spur columbine, Johnson Blue geranium, catmints, winecup mallow, Shasta daisy, Ozark coneflower, white yarrow, chocolate flowers

I wasn’t surprised when my rose-pink sweet pea produced an offspring with white flowers a few years ago. I was surprised Friday when I found a pink flower amongst my white peonies. I had planted some Monsieur Jules Elie in 2000, but gave up on ever seeing them in 2002 and planted the white Festiva Maxima. Fifteen years seems a long time for sometime to remain dormant.

What’s blooming outside the walls and fences: Apache plume, alfilerillo, purple mat flower, white tufted evening primroses, scarlet bee blossom, western stickseed, bindweed, Silver leaf nightshade, greenleaf five eyes, fern leaf globemallow, scurf pea, alfalfa, wild licorice, tumble mustard, fleabane, common and native dandelions, goat’s beard, green amaranth, plain’s paper flower; June, needle, brome, cheat, purple three-awn, and rice grasses

Needle grass is beginning to release its seeds. The tails, which are supposed to screw into the ground, entwine instead and attach themselves to my pant legs. The western stickseeds also are releasing triangular maces that catch at the base of my sweat pant legs.

What’s reviving: One of the cholla cacti that had been attacked by the ground squirrel put out new growth after the rain. I had been watering it, but I think it’s more dependent on water it traps from the air.

What’s coming up: Corn in one market garden was 6" high Monday; first zinnias from seeds planted 5/13. The first things up after the rain were wild lettuce where I’d planted some watermelon seeds, dandelions where I’d just cleared them out, and, of course, pigweed.

Bedding plants: Sweet alyssum, snapdragons, pansies, violas. One person had petunias blooming in front of an overturned whiskey half-barrel.

Tasks: I had planned to transplant two rose bushes on Tuesday, if temperatures cooled. Instead, the first thing I did the morning after the storm was deal with the downed locust trunk. I didn’t look carefully. I just assumed it was like the one that still laid across an open area because it hadn’t detached completely.

I cut all the small branches I could that reached into the drive. I have no upper arm strength, so I put one handle of the loppers on the ground and used all my weight on the other to push its blade down. My diameter limit is less than the capacity of the tool.

I was then ready to try to move the trunk a bit away from the drive, but couldn’t because those were the branches that the Dr. Huey rose had climbed into. It was only after I removed what canes I could and sacrificed the others that I discovered the trunk had broken free. I yanked on it and was able to drag it to the burn area, leaving a trail of gouged ruts in the gravel.

One thing about locusts and Dr. Huey roses is you do nothing to them without wearing a thick sweatshirt, hat, and heavy gloves. The other thing I know is you can’t don leather gloves with a thumb brace. So, in addition to trying to cut the tree branches and rose canes, I had to think about which parts of my hands I was using.

Animal sightings: Quail on back porch, small brown birds, geckos, ladybugs in the alfalfa, sidewalk ants, hornets, other small flying insects. Bumble bees visited pink evening primroses, sweet peas, and beauty bush because there’s nothing blue in bloom. I heard crickets for the first time the evening after the second day of rain. I hear a humming bird in the early evening, but never see it.

Weekly update: A little over a week ago, John Kelly said immigrants from México and central American couldn’t assimilate into "our modern society" because

"They’re overwhelmingly rural people. In the countries they come from, fourth,- fifth-, sixth-grade educations are kind of the norm. They don’t speak English, obviously. That’s a big thing. They don’t speak English. They don’t integrate well. They don’t have skills." [4]

I wondered when the Marines’ general last had to dig a hole to plant a rose bush or tree. Since I can never dig a hole large enough for a rootball, I know there’s a skill that I don’t have and all the paper instructions I’ve read provided no enlightenment.

A year ago when my frost-free hydrant failed, the plumber and his crew had to dig down three feet to get to the plumbing junction, without destroying my driveway. I watched what they did, and they did not use a round-pointed blade like I do.

The plumber had a long, narrow piece of steel he struck into the ground to loosen dirt. Then the other two used a square-headed, long-bladed shovel to remove the dirt.

When I later remarked on their methods, the lead plumber said they weren’t the best diggers. They had one man who could dig a trench in an hour that would take them at least four times as long. It wasn’t a matter of tools or methods. He thought the man just had better skills than they did.

Backhoes and ditch witches may have obsoleted the need to dig holes by shovel for large trees, and port-a-potties may have eliminated the need to excavate long trenches. However, they’re only good in areas where they’re free to operate. Residential plumbers don’t have that luxury. They almost always are repairing problems in areas where landscaping and drives are in place. They have to take their shovels.

I dreaded digging holes for the roses. The ground is always too hard or, if I’ve run a sprinkler in the area, too wet. In addition to no arm strength, I have a weak knee. I have to put the point of the shovel in the ground and stand on the folded-over shoulder and rock it back and forth to get it to sink into the ground. Then, when I use the blade to remove soil, dirt from the sides falls into the hole while I removing a small load. I barely get ahead of gravity.

Tuesday morning the ground was wet enough that the shovel sank to the shoulder when I stood on it, and less dirt collapsed into the hole. The potting soil was mostly bark, and somewhat dry, despite sitting in the Monday’s rain. It was easier than usual to pry and shake it loose. For the first time, I had a hole larger and deeper than I needed. It wasn’t skill, but luck and the weather.

Notes on photographs:
1. Pink and white peonies, Paeonia lactiflora, 25 May 2018.

2. Black locust, Robina pseudoacacia, branches across by drive, 22 May 2018.

3. Two of the shovels I inherited from my father. I only use the one with the round point because it has a short handle. Long handles are impossible when you’re five foot or 60.5" tall. One important difference between the two is the length of the section that holds the handle. It’s several inches longer on the one, giving it more strength and hence more leverage. I now use that one to move things about when I’m burning.

End notes:
1. NOAA. Thunderstorm warning issued 21 May 2018 at 3:44 pm.

2. Amanda Martinez. "High Winds Cause Power Outages throughout Valley." Rio Grande Sun, 24 May 2018, page A5.

3. Amanda Martinez and Wheeler Cowperthwaite. "Burn Ban Imposed by All Local Governments." Rio Grande Sun, 24 May 2018, page B1.

4. John Kelly. Interview with National Public Radio aired 11 May 2017. Reprinted from the taped archive by NPR on 13 May 2018 as "Fact-Checking What John Kelly Said About Immigration."