I’ll be taking a summer break and may be posting less than usual to the blog for a while. Our family will be visiting Washington state and Oregon - specifically Seattle and Vancouver, Washington, and Portland and Bend, Oregon. Most of our time will be in Oregon. My sister lives in Bend, and we also want to see the famously “sustainable” Portland, noted for its urban planning and public transit. Coincidentally, my wife’s family has scheduled a family reunion at Mt. Bachelor Village Resort, in Bend, so we can see a lot of people in one visit.

Vancouver, Portland, and Bend are also all designated as “bicycle-friendly” communities by the League of American Bicyclists, so I look forward to seeing what they offer in that venue.

I’ve been reading a Moon Handbook to Oregon (6th ed., 2004) by Elizabeth and Mark Morris. (I appreciated Moon’s Handbook to Northern California when we lived there.) In it I came across this info on bicycling in Oregon:

In the wake of the oil shocks of the 1970s, the Oregon legislature allocated one percent of the state highways budget to develop bike lanes and encourage energy-saving bicyclists. In addition to establishing routes throughout the state with these funds, many special parks were developed with bicycle and foot access specifically in mind. (p. 52)

What are the chances that Minnesota and other states could do the same? I also found this:

Portland has long been known as a bicycle-friendly city. Its nationally recognized bicycle program provides a comprehensive, safe bikeway network to increase the number of residents who bicycle to work, on errands, and for exercise or pleasure. To accomplish this, the city has created close to 200 miles of bikeways (bicycle lanes, boulevards, and multi-use trails). As a result, many more folks are riding bicycles. In 1975 about 200 cyclists crossed the Hawthorne Bridge daily by bike; today, it’s up to 2,400. (p. 122)

On a different subject, I’m intrigued by what I’ve read about another part of Oregon: southeastern Oregon. It’s one of the most sparsely populated regions in the lower 48 states. It borders northern Nevada, an area that has also intrigued me since my family drove through it on Interstate 80 when I was a teenager. These regions - along with Bend, which is in central Oregon - are part of the Great Basin high desert. Bend is home to the High Desert Museum, which I hope to visit.

Here’s something I’ve pondered occasionally: We all know the long-term demographic shifts that have occurred in the United States as the warmer parts of the country - the South and Southwest - grow at a faster rate than the rest of the country. As these regions grow, that means a corresponding decrease in relative power in northern regions, with the possible exception of the Pacific Northwest. I can understand how that shift of power will work in political terms as those southern regions gain a greater share of seats in Congress.

But what will be the more subtle changes associated with that demographic shift? I suspect that with more centers of power in the south, the perceived disadvantages of the northern climate will hinder northern regions. For example, why establish a corporate headquarters in the North if a majority of people in the country are accustomed to warmer climates? For the same reason, if you’re a southerner, why schedule any meeting in the North between October and April? Why go to school or take a job in the north if you’ve never lived in a cold climate?

It’s difficult to say how much these considerations will hinder the North, but I expect they’ll be real, and the Upper Midwest will probably suffer more since it is colder and more isolated than other northern regions.

I recently read “Imagine There’s No Oil: Scenes from a Liberal Apocalypse,” an article by Bryant Urstadt in the August 2006 issue of Harper’s Magazine (not available online). I take the Peak Oil movement seriously, though I’m less alarmed about the future than its proponents are - perhaps as a result of my own denial. I recommend the article.

The article gave me pause about living in a cold-weather region. How will homes and workplaces be heated in a post-fossil fuel environment? Will we adapt and muddle through, or will there be an early catastrophic failure in the fuel supply? It would be best to think through the possibilites.

Summer continues to offer up its bounty, and now it provides wild black raspberries. My wife discovered a few patches of these black and purple gems near our house here in southern Minnesota. Two evenings ago we took our daughter along and did some picking. Read the rest of this entry »

David A. Wharton’s book, Life at the Limits: Organisms in Extreme Environments (Cambridge University Press, 2002), contains an interesting observation about temperatures on our planet. It shows that cold temperatures are the norm, not the exception, for the planet as a whole:

What are normal temperatures? The Earth is, on average, a cold place. More than two-thirds of the Earth’s surface is covered by ocean and the temperature of most of the ocean stays close to 2 °C. Including the ocean depths, the polar ice caps and the land, four-fifths of the planet is below 5 °C all the time. What we might think of as “normal” temperatures, say 10 °C to 30 °C, are really not normal at all but occur only in restricted parts of the world. Abundant life is associated with the warmer parts of the Earth (but not too warm!).

What a difference a week makes at this time of year. Last week our southern Minnesota landscape seemed barren, with few flowers blooming and the grass still dormant. This week the scene here in Northfield has changed greatly. Magnolia trees, forsythia bushes, and daffodils are blooming, and the grass has greened up with some recent rain. In our own garden, we have an encouraging number of tulips rising, though none have flowered yet. The trees are gradually beginning to come into leaf.

Of course, the threat of frost is still real through May in our area and into June for northern parts of the region, reminding us that cold temperatures are the major limiting factor for plant life in the Upper Midwest. Anything planted here now had better be truly hardy.

Most plants are sold with an indication of their “hardiness zones”–the areas in which they can survive. The most widely used zones are those developed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA). The USDA Plant Hardiness Zone Map is a thing of beauty and is also quite geographically instructive. It covers Canada and Mexico as well as the United States–a fact I appreciate, since it gets those of us in the U.S. out of our all too nationalistic mindset. Looking at such a map we can see patterns of climate that extend across national boundaries.

The plant hardiness zones are numbered one through eleven and are based on average annual minimum temperature. Why is annual minimum temperature so important? Because low temperature is a primary source of stress for plants. (See the “Hardiness Zone Details” page for a list of zones.) Zone 1, for example, has an average annual minimum temperature below ?50 F. In other words, on average its lowest temperature of the year (its annual minimum) is lower than ?50 F. Sitting for the most part on the northernmost edges of the continent, Zone 1 is truly arctic; it includes Fairbanks, Alaska and Resolute, Northwest Territories.

Each zone has an annual minimum temperature range ten degrees higher (F) than the last. So, Zone 2 has an average annual minimum temperature range between ?50 and ?40 F, Zone 3 is ?40 to ?30 F, etc. At the other end of the scale, Zone 11 has an average annual minimum temperature above 40 F–making it frost-free. In North America, that gentle climate exists only in Mexico. The same zone also covers most of the Hawaiian Islands.

Zones 2 through 10 are further subdivided into “a” and “b” ranges–2a, 2b, 3a, 3b, etc. These a and b designations represent ranges of 5 degrees F in the annual minimum temperature. Zone 2b, for example, has an average annual minimum that is five degrees warmer than Zone 2a. Zone 10b, which includes southern Florida, has an average annual minimum temperature ranging from 35 to 40 F. So it, like Zone 11, is frost-free.

What about the Upper Midwest? Looking at the map of the continent as a whole, you can see the cold, low-numbered blue zones reaching down from Canada into the U.S. The coldest zone that touches the lower 48 states is Zone 2b, which reaches only into northern Minnesota; its average annual minimum is ?45 to ?40 F.

Looking at the “North-Midwest US” hardiness zone map for a more close-up view, the mildest parts of the region are in southern Iowa and eastern Wisconsin, which are in Zones 5a and 5b. In Zone 5b, located around Milwaukee, the average annual minimum temperature is ?15 to ?10 F, 30 degrees warmer than the coldest parts of northern Minnesota. (Urban areas tend to be warmer.)

Jumping back to the continental map, we can get some idea of how the Upper Midwestern minimum temperatures compare to those in other parts of the continent. The coldest parts of northern Minnesota have lows that are on par with those on the southern shore of Hudson Bay, the central parts of Canada’s prairie provinces, parts of interior Alaska, and the southern portion of Baffin Island–the latter two being very northern places indeed. Those parts of the region in Zones 3 and 4 are comparable to northeastern Montana, southern Ontario and Quebec, northernmost New York state and northern New England. Finally, the warmest parts of the region share their zone–Zone 5–with states stretching from Nebraska and Kansas to Pennsylvania.

What we have here in the Upper Midwest, therefore, is a great deal of climatic diversity, and we must choose our plants carefully.

We are in that time of year when the snow has melted, the days are warmer, and the sun is higher in the sky, but the earth has not yet greened over. The grass is still dormant and yellowish. Buds are on the trees, but the landscape still looks raw with the mark of winter’s cold touch. The threat of frost is still real, and nature, wise with many years of experience, steps out gingerly into the new season.

It’s not the prettiest time of year in the Upper Midwest. While warmer places revel with riotous flowers, we wait patiently, content with a few brave crocuses.

My thoughts and eyes have turned to the modest garden plots in our small yard. We live in a townhouse and have a little space for gardening in a courtyard, along the front walk, and in the back. We inherited a garden when we moved here last summer, and if all goes well its hostas, morning glories, thyme, rosemary, hens and chicks, and other plants will come back. We added tulips and black-eyed susans last fall.

I have two regional gardening books to help me: Gardening in the Upper Midwest, by Leon C. Snyder (Univ. of Minnesota Press, 1978), borrowed from my parents; and The Minnesota Gardener’s Guide, by Melinda Myers (Cool Springs Press, 2001).

From these sources I’ve already learned that gardeners tell us a good deal about regional geography. They must be aware of their own climate and its suitability for various plants. For example, they need to know when to plant so that the frost does not kill new growth.

Here is what Leon Snyder writes about the Upper Midwestern climate:

“In the winter, the temperature can drop to -40? F or colder. In the summer, temperatures can climb to 100? F or higher. Not only does this area have extremes of temperature but it also has a fluctuating rainfall. Summer droughts are not uncommon. Generally, the rainfall decreases as one moves in a northwesterly direction. Average annual rainfall in our area ranges from about 28 inches in the southeast to about 16 inches in the northwest. Fortunately, most of this rainfall comes during the growing season.” (p. 3)

In her discussion of climate, Melinda Myers analyzes frost dates. The last spring frost is a crucial determinant of when a gardener can plant. The number of frost-free days (on average) is obtained by counting the number of days between the last spring frost and the first fall frost. “The frost-free season varies from 107 to 160 days in southern Minnesota,” Myers writes, “and from 90 to 120 days in the northern part of the state.”

That means the colder parts of northern Minnesota are only frost-free for one quarter to one third of the year–from early or mid-June to late August, according to the map in her book. Southern Minnesota, including the Twin Cities, is generally frost-free from early May to early October. No part of the state is frost-free, on average, more than half the year. Although a night that falls to 30? F might be followed only hours later by a high temperature in the 50’s or 60’s, the region is indeed cold. But we already knew that.

Next week: More on geography and gardening, including links to pretty maps.

The Upper Midwest is up and out of the way, far northerly, not a crossroads in the way that other Midwestern states such as Indiana and Illinois are. It is separated from the populous East by the Great Lakes, which make it impossible to reach the region from the Northeast in a straight line over land.

The region is actually more northerly than it looks on most maps of the United States. On maps with curving latitude lines, Boston appears to be as far north as Minneapolis-St. Paul. However, Boston is really about the same latitude as northern Iowa. Minneapolis-St. Paul’s position on the 45th parallel of latitude actually makes it as northerly as central Maine and the northern borders of New York, Vermont, and New Hampshire.

Seattle is the only major U.S. city farther north. Portland, Oregon, is about the same latitude. Minneapolis-St. Paul is well north of Detroit and Toronto, and only slightly less northern than Montreal.

The northern border of Minnesota is about 300 miles from the Twin Cities–very northerly indeed. A portion of that border runs along the 49th parallel that divides Canada and the United States from here all the way to the Pacific. For an East Coast comparison, this is the same latitude as northern Newfoundland.

It’s interesting to note that at 45 degrees latitude, the Twin Cities is halfway between the Equator and the North Pole, which are at zero and 90 degrees latitude respectively. Europe is generally more northerly. Bordeaux, France, and Venice, Italy, are about the same latitude as the Twin Cities. Asia is generally more southerly. Harbin, China, in the far northern part of that country, and Vladivostok, Russia, are about the same latitude as the Twin Cities.

Climate-wise, the Upper Midwest has the misfortune to be in the center of a continent. So, although the Twin Cities is the same latitude as northern Italy, its weather is far colder. There are no oceans to warm the Arctic air masses as they pour down from the North, and we must dress accordingly.

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When we left Interstate 80 in Des Moines and headed north to Minnesota, we left the main cultural and commercial arteries of the nation. Each mile north put us farther from that main flow of traffic and more toward the center of that region I am calling the Upper Midwest. Read the rest of this entry »