A Few Vernal Observations––

Spring Snow, The Poor Man’s Fertilizer

By Dottie Evans

Barely an inch of snow fell Sunday night covering everything with a delicate veil of frosty white. More snow fell Tuesday afternoon.

Nothing was spared. Not the delicate crocus just opening its golden flower. Not the stinking skunk cabbage poking its parrot-shaped beak out of the black muck.

The snow was accompanied by the return of frigid temperatures and a blustery wind. This caused a fair degree of grumbling. Once more it seemed, we must drag out the warm gloves and heavy coats we had put away because we would not be needing them any more. So we thought.

We should have read the The Old Farmer’s Almanac, which predicted “cold, rain, and snow showers” for this week.

This is April already. We are not in the mood for any more white stuff. Behind our wool scarves, hear us muttering.

“Would the real spring please stand up?”

“We’ll have no more of this here-today, gone-tomorrow, cat-and-mouse sort of seasonal teasing, thank you very much.”

Others among us have a more philosophical outlook. Old timers and countrymen know that the last snow of a long winter is a gift and not a curse.

They call it “poor man’s fertilizer” because it is good for growing things, and Dr John Avers, professor at the University of New Hampshire in the Department of Natural Resources, has said (over the Internet) he thinks he knows why.

“Snow contains nutrients and also a lot of moisture. And if that snow falls on ground that’s not frozen, then the nutrients and moisture can penetrate into the soil.”

As for what nutrients a spring snow might contain, Dr Avers mentioned nitrogen and sulfur and other elements that are used by gardens and lawns. If you want to get technical, the nitrogen is absorbed out of the moisture and “fixed” or trapped in the roots and bulbs.

So we must accept that a late season snow is just one more sign of spring to be welcomed along with pussy willows and peeping frogs and migrating robins. Even if it does mean we have to bundle up a little longer.

Another bit of spring lore that scientists like to spout is the fact that spring is not just about mild temperatures and balmy breezes and going around in shirtsleeves.

“The length of the days is what brings spring,” said DonnaRose Manwaring, office manager at the Bent-of-the-River Audubon Center in Southbury.

“For birds, their breeding and migration behavior is dependent upon the amount of daylight.”

Take the song sparrow, for instance.

“He knows we just had a spring solstice, so he’s singing to attract a mate.”

The song sparrow is a migrating bird, Ms Manwaring explained, that returns to Connecticut every year in early March. He can be recognized by his brown stripes and the single brown spot in the middle of his chest.

“Though he arrives earlier, he does not begin singing until around March 25. His song starts out with three loud call notes followed by a buzzing warble. Once you’ve heard it you can’t stop hearing it,” she added.

Moving on to another sign of spring, we might consider skunk cabbage, understand there is a reason why it blooms so early and smells so horrible. The strong skunklike odor –– not unlike rotting meat –– attracts the year’s first hatching of flies. Finding no other food, the flies crawl all around and inside the cabbage’s pulpy fruit. In this way, they pollinate its yellow flower.

Remembering the snow, the song sparrow, and the skunk cabbage, it seems we must accept the vagaries of spring, trusting in nature to behave as it always has –– with a certain amount of perverse attention to universal laws.

It does not matter that we would really love it if we did not have to wait until June to put away winter clothes, much less run barefoot across the lawn.