With the first week of December bringing warm, humid and often foggy weather, thoughts turn to the prospect of a nice summer. NIWA seem to be forecasting a dry summer for many, and several areas already have drought conditions in effect.
After a dry November with only 12 mm of rain, December has already served up 24 mm of rain in Tawa under warmer conditions. This is not unusual, as I can remember several Christmas weeks over the years when the weather was humid and foggy with days of misty rain. But what of the other signs of summer arriving?
One of the miniature Christmas lilies was overzealous this year and, having opened a nice burgundy-coloured bloom, bravely shivered through November’s return to cooler temperatures. Its mates have now put forth flower bracts, but seem to be holding off for the moment, casting smug looks at their now shrivelled mate. One of the potted curiosities that I inherited with the house, I am presuming that these are Christmas miniatures, simply because they look like miniature burgundy versions of the pink and white, but larger, Christmas lilies I remember from days long ago.
The annual migration of stick insects and wetas into the house to escape the dry conditions outside has suddenly stopped. It will start again soon, no doubt. Of all the local wildlife, these are the fiddliest to deal with. Stick insects freeze when you try to move them and grip tightly to the surface that they’ve settled upon. Over-zealous intervention with a fastidiously held sheet of cardboard results in their fragile legs falling off. The best method is to get a short sprig of something green and gently encouraging them to hop on board for a free trip outside. Patience is required, although it only takes a minute or two. Provided its not too spicy like a piece of pepper tree or a sprig of rosemary, just slowly bring the greenery up against the stick insect’s feet in a very slow sweeping motion and they’ll eventually step onboard. They think and move slowly, but a good indication that they are going to co-operate is when they start swaying back and forth on their legs as if playing a game of “I will, I won’t…”
Wetas can be more problematic as they jump when surprised, and generally react like this to sudden bumps or if touched. Quick action with a wide-mouthed jar works, but again don’t get them excited by bumping the surface that they’re on or else they’ll be off with you in hot pursuit. Pop the jar over the top of the weta, and slide a thin sheet of cardboard across the opening, by lifting one edge. They’ll usually obligingly jump as the cardboard touches a foot and you can then complete sliding the cardboard across the opening. Its then a simple matter of taking the whole contraption outside and leaving the jar lying on its side in the garden so that they can move on at their leisure. Wetas may be a bit gruesome to look at, but they’re one of our unique insects and are superb predators in the vege garden, I’m told.
Some early wasps are about, but I haven’t seen a honeybee recently. Bimbly bees are about, but in lower numbers than early November which is alarming.
The cicadas struck up a raucous garden symphony on Wednesday, when we had a warm, still day. Since then, they’ve packed up and moved to drier climes, I suspect.
People are starting to decorate their houses with Christmas lights – this isn’t much help in predicting summer weather, but it does confirm that the theoretical summer season is upon us. For a great display of over-zealousness in Ross-on-Wye in Herefordshire, take a look at the latest edition of Wyenot News on the ‘net (can be found with a Google search). Obviously the UK doesn’t have a winter-time power crisis of the sort that we might be facing next year!
The last word in summer prediction has to be left to the pohutukawa trees – many allege that early flowering is the precursor to a long hot summer. My three large specimens are hedging their bets, I’m afraid. One has no sign of bloom, the middle one has a few small flowers, the third has many flower buds but hasn’t cranked them open yet. The surest indication of nature having “a bob each way” (???)
In the meantime, as I wrote this, Tawa again disappeared. My normally pleasant view across the valley is currently one of a few indistinct shapes in the fog. Could whoever stole Tawa bring it back, please?