Images of blazing fires and parched earth reach us in Harvard as the American West experiences one of its worst droughts and earliest heat waves on record. Climate change is on our minds when we read the news, but can we see signs of change at home, especially as summer brings us outdoors? I asked longtime residents to share their observations.
With a lush and pleasant spring behind us, it might seem that we live in a uniquely blessed region. However, climate change concerns are receiving more publicity in our area—for example, echoing the recent climate bill in Massachusetts, Wayland’s Town Meeting passed a resolution earlier this month declaring that “A climate emergency threatens our town, all human civilization, and the natural world,” along with a commitment to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by a minimum of 50% by 2030.
Water pours out of a water wheel and onto freshly planted sweet potato plants last May in a field farmed by Westward Orchards. (Photo by Lisa Aciukewicz)
As we head into summer, readers may be surprised to learn that the National Weather Service’s recently updated 30-year climate norms point to a categorically different kind of summer than in previous years. The NWS averages, based upon three decades of data, characterize “the expected climate at a location over the seasons’’ and provide a yardstick for what to expect in our region. The updated averages show that southern New England has moved from a continental warm summer to a continental hot summer, according to the widely used Köppen climate classification system.
This means southern New England summers have drawn closer to those we associate with Mid-Atlantic states, with increases of average temperatures ranging from .4 to .8 degrees Fahrenheit (for the period 1991-2020 as compared to 1981–2010) across the region. To put that into perspective, the United States Department of Agriculture reports that throughout New England, the mean annual temperature has increased by 2.4 F from 1901 to 2011. Based upon various climate change models, New England’s mean annual temperatures are expected to increase by 3 to 8 degrees F by 2100.
Hotter and longer
Summer isn’t just hotter, it is also longer. According to Joseph Dellicarpini of the National Weather Service office in Boston, the interval between the last frost of spring and the first frost of fall is, on average, one to two weeks longer in southern New England with the new 1991-2020 normals.
This comes as no surprise to Pam Durrant, a resident since 1974, who used to exhibit her vegetables at the beloved Bolton Fair, previously held in mid-September. Participants waited in trepidation to see if their prize vegetables would be ruined by frost before the fair opened. In later years (before the fair’s date was changed to mid-August), this anxiety dissipated as the first fall frost retreated further into the season.
Farmer Paul Willard delivers a basket of corn to his farmstand during a previous summer. (Photo by Jen Manell)
Harvard native Paul Willard, whose iconic farmstand on Still River Road provides the quintessential image of Harvard summer, keenly observes weather patterns. “If there’s one aspect of the whole weather that is noticeably different, it’s the wind,” Willard said. In the summer, we now have a continuously fluctuating wind, which is not what he remembers of the past. Sometimes wind damage even occurs without a rainstorm and, overall, the intensity of the wind is increasing. In general, Willard concluded the “weather is speeding up”—trends seem to fluctuate rapidly, intense rain falls in short, unevenly spread rain events rather than gentle showers, and high and low extremes chase each other in rapid succession, as we saw earlier this spring.
The juxtaposition of extreme temperatures and cycles of heavy rain and drought can be damaging for agriculture, as documented in the town of Harvard’s 2019 report, “The Impact of Climate Change on Agriculture.” For example, in 2016, Harvard farmers lost the entire peach crop due to unusually warm weather followed by record lows in February. Stephanie O’Keefe, fourth-generation farmer and store manager at Westward Orchards, told the Press that, in some ways, this is nothing new for farmers: “Mother Nature rules the roost.” Trees growing in orchards have always been vulnerable to weather events like damaging hail in the summer. “We learn to adapt,” O’Keefe noted as she explained how they shift vegetable crops around the farm according to spring weather or projected droughts.
For now, Willard’s vegetable crops are thriving, perhaps due to longer growing seasons; however, he notes that irrigation is a must for taking advantage of the warmer weather. Annual species such as corn and tomatoes can be planted and harvested around changing weather patterns, but long-lived species such as trees have much less ability to adapt, Willard explained.
Forests matter
Indeed, Massachusetts’ forests, covering 64% of its land area, are central to realizing the commonwealth’s plan for net zero emissions by 2050. The Harvard Forest of Harvard University, in a report on decarbonization prepared for the Net Zero initiative, estimates Massachusetts forests hold an estimated 100 to 120 million metric tons of carbon and yearly, due to continued growth, will sequester the equivalent of 5 million metric tons of carbon emissions through 2050. This works out to about 7% of current emissions and about half of “allowable residual emissions” in 2050.
Similarly, concerns about Harvard’s trees relate closely to the ability of the community to adapt to climate change. According to tree warden JC Ferguson, many of our trees are not well adapted to the warmer temperatures, increasing the risk of decline and, eventually, local extinction. An outdoor enthusiast who was born in Harvard, Ferguson fondly recalls hunting for good climbing trees in the woods as a child. Hemlocks fit the bill with their thick lower branches and straight, towering trunks. Now the town’s hemlocks are suffering from the wooly adelgid, a tiny, invasive insect that resembles an aphid, present in the state since 1988.
A number of longtime Harvard residents mentioned the state of hemlocks as a visible indicator of climate change. According to Conservation Commission member Wendy Sisson, in the 27 years she has lived in Harvard, the wooly adelgids have grown more destructive. “You see hemlocks losing their needles and looking thin. With their shallow roots, they are also weakened by drought, plus the drying effects of winds when hemlock groves are exposed by dieback or cutting. … It is sad to see not only because they are elders in the forest … but also because of the ecological niche they create, keeping ravines cool and moist and streams clean, being summer home to certain warblers, thrushes, and other birds, and winter shelter to lots of wildlife,” Sisson said in a recent interview.
Other tree species, such as oaks, maples, and ashes, suffer stress during successive droughts and then fall prey more easily to disease and pests (such as the emerald ash borer), Ferguson noted in an interview with the Press. As Harvard’s tree warden, he keeps an eye on vulnerable trees and branches along the public ways that may be hazardous during future storms—and predicts that, given current trends, residents will see increasing decline of trees along the roadside as well as on their own properties.
Signs of stress at the pond
Bare Hill Pond, another iconic fixture of the Harvard summer, also shows signs of stress due to changing weather patterns. According to Bare Hill Pond Watershed Management Committee Chair Bruce Leicher, erratic rainfall in the spring contributes to “algal events and eutrophication because of the increased presence of anaerobic conditions.” In other words, he explained, less consistent water flow in the spring means less oxygen—this combined with phosphorus already present in the pond, as well as runoff picked up from the watershed, means we have a greater chance of algae interfering with summer swimming. The annual drawdown is meant to reduce phosphorus levels and has proved effective, but in the future we may need to expand our toolkit to prevent algal events. Leicher noted the success of a half-dozen rain gardens near the pond, installed with an Environmental Protection Agency grant in 2006–2007 and maintained by the Department of Public Works, as a possible model for future pond protection in the greater watershed area.
Longtime residents’ reflections often turned to the issue of adaptability, voicing the opinion that a more resilient environment and careful stewardship of natural resources can better mitigate extreme weather events and warming temperatures. As vice president of the Garden Club of Harvard, Jessie Panek emphasized that natural environments work holistically. For example, trees depend on one another for support, and the ones on the edge of a clearing are more vulnerable to damage than those in the middle of a forest. The more we clear, the more damage we will see because there is more edge.
Water resources are also noticeably changing. President of the Nashua River Watershed Association Lucy Wallace mentioned changes she has noticed to surface waters since she moved here in 1979. For example, “There was a brook that goes under Littleton Road, near the cornfield [and] always used to have water in it year round. Over the last few years, [it] gets lower and lower, and hardly has any water.” Other small local streams have also disappeared or diminished, in her recall.
Kit Holland, born and raised in Harvard, notes the much deeper wells that must be dug to reach aquifers—currently several hundred feet compared with sometimes tens of feet during her childhood. Her observation accords with information available on Massachusetts’ Energy and Environmental Affairs Data Portal.
Paul Willard says he is acutely aware of changes in land use in Harvard—he has watched many of Harvard’s old farms disappear. He told the Press, “Farming … is doomed [economically] in the way we used to think of it.” Nature adapts to change, but communities seem less flexible: “What’s good for one is not good for another.” His words pose a significant question: Will Harvard find a renewed sense of the common good in an era of climate change?
