Winter storm in summer: How very 2020!

We knew it was coming, although I'm not sure how many of us truly believed it 

After two and a half months of hot summer days, the forecast called for Monday to be 97 degrees and Tuesday to have a high of like 32 degrees and low somewhere well south of 30.

Putting it in perspective: The leaves are still GREEN on the trees. Its not even autumn yet.  With a forecast of 3-6" of snow,  all over Boulder, we started prepping for tree damage, downed branches and associated power cuts. Sudden temperature swings also spell death for smaller trees who are not yet equipped to deal with crazy changes like this, so we try to cushion the blow a bit.

I spent a hot afternoon wrapping young fruit trees at my rental property,  in foam wrap with packaging tape.  Its not that I didn't understand they make actual tree wrap for this, it's that everyone sold out of it days prior. 

Ash was raining from the sky as I drove back to Boulder. Somewhere, not to distant, wildfires were still raging and the smoke-filled air had been making outdoorsy things unpleasant and unhealthy for about 3 weeks now. We were praying that the winter storm would dampen the flames and let our exhausted firefighters win the battle of containment.

Then I scooted over to Kathy and Mikes.  They had "emergency harvested" 120 lb of mostly ripe plums and I was the lucky recipient of a generous bag. 

Later that day,  Mark and I pulled container plants into the garage and wrapped several young trees at our house, then covered the less hardy blueberry bush and tomato plants. It was a case of doing your best, crossing fingers and just waiting it out.

6pm Monday night... a gusty breeze brought the temperature crashing down.  

By 9am Tuesday, it was snowing.  And snowing, and snowing!

That night as it started to accumulate, Mark and I did our best to shake off trees twice before bedtime.  The leaves caught every flake and brands were arching under the weight of heavy snow. 

Wednesday morning was about the time things broke. Literally.  Branches could be heard cracking and falling, creating plumes of snow as they came down through the trees and hit homes, gardens,  sidewalks. 

Destruction. Danger. Sadness. 

We lost a major branch from the beloved front yard peach tree. Otherwise, got off lightly, with just a couple of the neighbors' smaller branches on or near our house. 

The rest of our neighborhood was not so fortunate.  A quick walk around the block revealed days of clean up work and decades of growth scattered on the ground. 

I turned and walked home.

2020 strikes again.