It’s a good thing the growing season here in Texas is so long. Because I get to start aaaaaalllll over this year. And I’m still pretty bitter about it.
Two weekends ago, we’re standing along a mountain bike course west of Austin, bellies full of Kerbey Queso, and pretty excited about the day ahead. My “trusty” weather source says we’re going to be done with Jason’s race and nearly back to Houston long before the cold front hits Austin.
The race started, the guys disappeared into the forest for the completely treacherous (why do people think that’s fun?!) 16-miles and then the wind blew. For 10 seconds straight. It was very cool air.
Everyone and everything had fogged up – cameras, sunglasses, helmet shields. The mass confusion was funny at first. But then reality hit: just like that, it was 20 degrees colder within seconds. 5 hours earlier than it was supposed to be – thanks for keeping the forecast updated, Weather Channel!
We always have a couple of below-40 cold snaps after our last frost date (when I usually plant) but it’s very manageable. But the low that night ended up being 12 degrees lower than projected 24 hours before, which is a big deal when we’re talking 25 vs 37. And the wind – I mean, it’s windy out here in the Katy prairie but I wasn’t prepared for the steady 20+ mph with gusts over 30 that ripped all my tree covers and frost protectors away, leaving the new citrus and garden vulnerable to the elements. And leaving my covers no where to be found.
Tomatoes, peppers, squash, and green beans: toast.
New growth on the blood orange and pomegranate: toast.
200+ baby peaches?
I’m clinging to the smallest sliver of hope. But my gut says toast.