I know lately it may seem like Heaven. But don’t forget, this is Iowa and “Iowa Nice” doesn’t apply to the weather.
Sure, all the snow melted and crocuses are blooming. Those little blue squills are poking up all over the lawn like they don’t know it’s February. I’ve packed away my winter coats and gloves and scarves. With temperatures in the 60s, who needs ‘em, right? The Iowa State Extension in Ames reminds us that Iowa’s snow season lasts from November to March. So transplanting your tomato starts and indoor plants so soon might mean they end up like members of the Ernest Shackleton Antarctic expedition of 1914. The explorers survived a downturn in the weather but the sudden drop in temperature stunted their growth (well, it’s what I heard). Ames cautions Iowans to “harden off” indoor plants gradually. And let that be a lesson for humans.
The most unseasonable snowstorm in Iowa’s history came on May 29, 1947. Two days before that, it was spring. Tulips were up, snow shovels were put away, farmers were planting corn. Then, on May 27, temperatures plummeted throughout the Midwest followed by the snow, blanketing green lawns and cherry blossoms. Seven to ten inches of snow fell across Allamakee County. LeMars got 10 inches, setting the record for largest May snowfall in Iowa. Power lines and telephone lines and tree limbs came crashing down all across northeastern Iowa.
The blizzard of April 8-10, 1973 dumped 10 inches of snow on Iowa City. The National Weather Service recorded the official snowfall in Polk County as 14 inches with the 65-mph winds causing drifts up to 16 feet high! April showers.
Iowa’s heaviest snow storm on record came on March 9-17, 1951, when Iowa City was buried under 27.2 inches of snow. Other parts of the state received 13-20 inches.
Robins are the most optimistic of birds. They often arrive in early March, fully expecting to find worms and sunshine. It is sad to see them looking so disappointed, sitting on the backyard fence, covered in big wet snowflakes.
Signs of spring in Iowa are not to be trusted. The only sure way to survive the treachery of an Iowa spring is to gradually harden yourself off. Like a petunia. The process takes around two weeks for plants (and humans) accustomed to living indoors to make the transition to fluctuating outdoor temperatures. In plants, the incrementally increasing exposure to sunshine and wind results in an accumulation of carbohydrates, thickening cell walls and protecting them from occasional freezing. In people, the accumulation of carbohydrates and thickening of cell walls has already been going on all winter which only makes the occasional freeze and the sudden realization that our summer clothes no longer fit that much more of a shock.
Temperatures may be in the 60s now, but the normal high for this time of year is the mid-30s. I’m wearing t-shirts and sunscreen, but I’m keeping the snow shovel where I can get at it in a hurry.