We are in the middle of a system here, a system that’s going to dump more than a month’s worth of rain on us in a little less than a weekend. For this SW Ontario swamp girl, Alberta weather — always baffling — is officially taking things too far. So what exactly is going on? I had to know so I found out. Now, I’m going to try and break it down for you the way I learned it. Better strap in, pigeons.

I’ve known for a long time that in Alberta, weather is just a hair-bit wild. Now I don’t mean that it gets colder than other places I’ve lived (it doesn’t) or that it gets more snow (it doesn’t) or that winter is in any kind of general way harder here (it isn’t. In fact, I honestly think that Alberta is one of the nicer places to do winter — those Chinooks are really quite lovely and the many, many bluebird days are so very appreciated). Winter is infinitely less hospitable in New Brunswick and Northern Ontario (snow!! So. Much. Snow!!) and an Ottawa winter — grey skies, grey buildings, grey suits, grey trees — is enough to make a girl think hard about just walking into the river. No, what I’m talking about has nothing to do with that season’s undeserved reputation.

Alberta isn’t wild when it comes to the seasons themselves but boy-howdy, does she ever swing for the fences when it comes to the details. Literally. I mean Alberta weather swings like a chandelier at a frat party. Last week, I was rummaging for sunblock and my big-brimmed hat; this week, I’m watching the precipitation, the temperatures and fretting for my tomatoes. Last week the sheep were merrily sashaying down to the pastures but this week, they’re up to their hocks in mud and refuse to leave their straw-stuffed sheds. Honestly, what IS all this??

So, because I’m a weirdo, I decided to try and figure out what was happening. Why is this system sitting on us, as immovable as Jabba? What sort of witches’ brew conjured this particular meteorological foulness? I bought a sprinkler last week. . . Did that do it?

For those of you who know me, you know I’m not at all math-y or even really science-y. However, I strapped on my Big Girl Pants and decided to dig in. With my nifty new weather station providing the data and a deep dive into some weather geekery, I have come up with a way to explain this that, I think, might actually work.

Theoretically.

Avengers, Assemble!

This particular system is just enormous. It stretches from Montana in the south-east to Fort McMurray in the north. It includes both of Alberta’s major cities and a good chunk of south-east British Columbia. It’s ridiculous. As I was reading and trying to piece things together, a picture began to form in my head. To explain this, I’m going to use a lot of images from the Battle of New York (no, not the historical one, the real one. If you haven’t seen it, here you go. I’ll wait).

If you’re a normal human, you’re probably thinking, “Tara’s clearly been stuck inside too long.” You may be right but I promise you, there are some parallels and they helped me understand — as best I can given what I have to work with — just what’s happening outside my window.

But first, we need to go back to the origin of this system. This is our cast of characters, the major players I’m fighting my way through too-many-times-a-day.

First, Black Widow. She’s just doing her thing, having a little holiday on the beach down on the Gulf of Mexico. She’s got the sand in her toes and everything is going pretty well.

Third, in an attempt to isolate Loki and his henchmen, Nick Fury shuts down every eastern exit. No bridges, no highways, no airports.

And finally, Captain America. Cap is the mountains barricading Loki to the west.

Okay. Now things get weird.

“I Don’t See How That’s A Party.”

I need you to imagine a vortex — an invisible vortex but a vortex nonetheless — sitting right over the Alberta foothills. In weather words, this is called a low pressure system and a low pressure system means, effectively, the atmosphere isn’t keeping a lid on the air. When the barometer is falling, it’s a sign that chaos is coming.

But that’s just air. We’ve got a ton of rain here. What about that??

That’s what the widows are — a thick band of water vapour that’s surging northward, drawn on by Loki’s vortex. A few of the widows might peel off but the majority are locked in on the target. Once they all arrive in Alberta, thanks to Fury’s closure of all escape routes to the east, the widows/moisture are forced to circulate on the perimeter of the low-pressure vortex. They’re coming in on the SE corner of the system and moving counter-clockwise, first north and then swirling down to the SW, right along the foothills.

. . . Which is where Captain America has been hanging out, watching the Chitauri chariots (our freaky wind gusts) streaking around, riding on the currents of the vortex. Cap is our launch pad — the obstacle that gets the widows off the ground and high into the atmosphere. The streaming widows bounce off him and are sent skyward where their vapour cools, condenses and falls as rain (or snow. But we’re not going to talk about that, mkay?). Some of the widows — like our intrepid Natasha — catch on to the Chitauri winds, the localized, chaotic gusts birthed by the vortex Loki is so proud of, and fall over Sunshine Village, over Banff, over Canmore and Cochrane, over Red Deer and Fort Mac and Great Falls.

Thanks to the havoc a low pressure vortex allows, the system is full of all kinds of forces, lashing out this way and that. But here’s the important bit — while all this is going on, the system can’t actually move. It’s stuck. In the “normal” way of things, low pressure systems would be punted eastward along the jet stream but since Fury has closed all the escape routes in this direction — in weather-speak, we have another strong system blocking any progress in that direction — our low pressure system is confined to quarters. It has to do what it’s going to do and it has to do it here.

And until something gives, nothing is going anywhere.

Loki keeps spinning. The widows keep arriving. Captain America keeps forcing them skyward. And there goes Tara, swaddled in her weatherproofs, out to check the cranky sheep.

Lucky us. Some party.

The Status Of Right Now

So that’s where we are. Thanks to a couple of factors that lined up so perfectly — Gulf moisture, a blocked eastern jet stream, mountains to the west and Alberta’s usual low pressure mixing bowl — meteorological mayhem ensued.

The forecast expects this to die down by Wednesday (WEDNESDAY!!!) and at this point, the speculation is a combination of a clear(er) eastern jet stream and a collapse of Loki’s portal which will gradually reduce the widows’ pull north and then maybe we can convince Captain America to stand down (like seriously. You’ve done enough). With less power in the low pressure system, the gusty Chitauri will gradually slow and a high pressure system seems to be building for the end of the week.

And fortunately, a high pressure system — a system that keeps the air from whooshing upward and imposes a kind of top-down organization on the weather — means that for all the critters (domestic and not-so-much) that live here, we might actually get a chance to dry off.

As I said, “Theoretically.”

This is, after all, Alberta.

This is a Tending post — a practical look at our tools, methods, routines, and on-the-ground decision-making. It’s not a one-size-fits-all how-to, and it isn’t meant to substitute for local knowledge or professional guidance. It’s just what we’ve found useful and what we’re doing here on our farm, in our conditions, with our sheep (and alpacas), written down plainly in case it helps. For more about why we do things the way we do them, the philosophy that informs our process, you’ll find those posts in Living.