Springtime in the Basin
Weather conditions have always been tempestuous and sometimes unpredictable in the Great Basin. This year is no exception. In fact, this winter has been downright weird.
We got a few dustings of snow in Carson Valley. Just up the hill at Lake Tahoe, its ski resorts got a few meager skiffs of snow, barely enough to make it worthwhile to rent skis. At the end of February, everyone was hoping for a Miracle March. Especially the water watchers. The snowpack at that time hardly piled up enough to provide water to downstream towns and agriculture.
Lo and behold, the gods heard our prayers … or at least our complaints. Atmospheric rivers pounded the West Coast, which set Los Angelinos' teeth on edge. Torrential rain on burned out landscapes spells yet another disaster, and California is getting really weary of such things. Skiers and ranchers danced in the proverbial streets with the snowstorms lining up over the Pacific Crest. Miracle March arrived with a lion on both ends and only now, early April, it's beginning to taper off.
Spring in the Great Basin, however, can be just as aggravating as a stingy winter. With frigid temperatures kissing the tree buds as they try to emerge, chances are tenuous for a good harvest of apples. (Genoa's apple cider became world famous back in the 1800s.)
Since we moved to Minden, NV fifteen years ago, our Granny Smith apple tree has borne only one productive harvest. Granted, it was prodigious. We picked several quarts worth of applesauce and dehydrated apple slices. Our friends filled their cars with bushel baskets full. The remainder provided ten gallons of cider, which still sits in our garage cabinet. I wonder if it's even drinkable now.
In the subsequent years, snow and hard frosts have killed off any chances of a regular harvest on that scale. Desert plants have endured so many dustings upon their blooms, this year everything in the valley is waiting for perfect temperatures before poke above soil.
That said, here's a line-up of photos to illustrate the beauty and frustration the cruel month of April can create in our little burg on the back of beyond.
Lilacs are definitely a harbinger of spring, although not the first plants to greet the season. Tulips, muscari, and daffodils fulfill that job, coming in March no matter how deep the snow. This year, the lilacs are still hanging back, waiting for the sun to really bring its summer heat.
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Lovely! The contrast of blooms and snow is arresting, whether on distant peaks or the flowers themselves
Such wonderful photos, Sue. Thanks for brightening my morning. I cannot imagine lilacs so early. My tree has scarcely any leaves, let alone flower buds. But I can smell those slightly over-ripe crushed apples being magically transformed into cider. Nature's perfume!