Predictable Predictions
The Source
I think I’ve heard it at least five times this week. “They say it’s gonna be a bad winter.” “Have you heard the forecast for winter?...Sounds like we’re in for it again.” It takes no more than the first cooling breeze of fall for an entire nation to start bemoaning what’s to come. I can remember climbing aboard a cruise ship in Vancouver Harbor, excited about the prospect of eight days cruising Alaska’s Inside Passage in luxury, and the passenger beside me said, “It’s sure gonna be hard to go back to work when this is over.” Gimme a break! It’s not even here yet! The Farmer’s Almanac, an entertaining if not especially accurate predictor of anything says that you’ll know a rough winter’s coming when your corn husks are abnormally thick (mine feel fine), woodpeckers are sharing the same tree (I’m still alone), you find thick hair on a cow’s neck (once you get her to hold still), crickets arrive early on your hearth (my what?), pigs begin gathering sticks (I wondered what they were doing), insect march in a bee line instead of meandering (I thought they were drunk), and your caterpillar feels especially fuzzy. I would venture to guess that there’s not been a season in the last hundred years when these phenomena were observed at least once so I’ll not put my stock in the farmer’s market quite yet. Perhaps the most astounding (and perhaps apocryphal) bit of alarmist gossip has been the word going around town regarding the State of Illinois. Word has it that IDOT has warned its various tentacles to stock up on salt and be ready for the first heavy snow in November. Like all dirty jokes originating in prisons, I’m not sure where this “news” got its start. Is there a little room in Springfield where a tiny Jamaican spinster disembowels chickens and reads their entrails in hopes of divining the amount of salt need on U.S. 267? My Uncle Johnny swore that he could predict the upcoming winter by the amount of hair on Jake’s back. Jake was his collie. …at least he started out as a collie, but years of progressively nasty winters turned him into something resembling an aging grizzly bear. But the point is that Jake was always hairy. Perpetually shaggy. There was not a summer that didn’t find poor Jake panting if the temperature rose above sixty degrees. So much for shaggy dog stories. I suppose that the above-mentioned wooly worm is the most common predictor of a harsh season. The folklore states that the more black he has on him the worse the winter. If he is black in front then brown, then black again that is the way the winter will go. Sounds exciting. I’ve never experienced a brown winter. Then there’s that fabled group called “Old Wives” who’ve been telling winter tales for centuries: “For ever fog in August, there’ll be a snowfall in Winter.” “Squirrels gather nuts in a flurry, will cause snow to gather in a hurry.” “Flowers bloomin’ late in Autumn, a sure sign of a bad Winter comin’.” “As high as weeds grow, so will the bank of snow.” “Onion skins very thin, Mild Winter coming in; Onion skins thick and tough, Coming Winter cold and rough.” I may start my own prediction almanac, “What’s the winter going to be? Watch the weather man to see.” “How bad a winter? What’s the chance? To be safe, put on your pants.” Or… “Wonder what the snow betides? If it’s a problem, then stay inside!” Okay, one rather accurate predictor is that pesky little El Nino, which does indeed play a major part in determining the weather. It has something to do with oceans and reversed air pressure, and the price of a latte in San Francisco. I’ve never understood this atmospheric thingamabob but I think it’s unfortunate that we name it after the Christ child if it’s going to cause six-foot snow drifts in Iowa. To my knowledge Christ didn’t even ski. We shouldn’t blame the weather on him. The point is, what good does it do us to worry ourselves silly with folk tale predictions? I look at what I have to accomplish today…then tomorrow…then next week…and I have all the fretting I can handle today.