The Last Hurrah

Punxatawney Phil is playing with us.  You know, the groundhog.  The weather prognosticator.  He pops his head out of his hole in the depths of Winter every year and tells us if Spring is near or Winter will hang on for another six weeks.  That’s the legend anyway.  I don’t know what his track record is but people keep asking him every year on February 2 so it must be OK.

Funny  thing about that.  Groundhog Day, the day he makes this prediction, is pretty much exactly six weeks before the celestial based onset of Spring.  So whatever he guesses is bound to be not too far off.  Just sayin’.

This year’s ruling was… I don’t remember.  But here in the first week of March it’s chilly, raining and just plain dreary.  No birds singing.  No sun shining.  No green grass.  Still Winter.  Maybe the forecast is more accurate in Pennsylvania where Phil lives.

The local wisdom, here in the South, is that you shouldn’t plant your garden until after Easter.  After the last chance of frost has passed.  Easter was last week but it’s only 40 degrees out there.  Not frosty, but still kinda cool.  Does that have anything to do with wearing white shoes?

Like every year, we’ve been teased by several nice days.  Warm and sunny.  And I’ll bet a lot of folks got their gardens started a little early.  I hope tomato plants are pretty tough.

Just goes to show you.  Phil just predicts the weather, he doesn’t control it.  Winter is here for one last hurrah.  And we’ll appreciate the eventual arrival, the real arrival, of Spring even more.

That’s part of my story.  What’s yours?


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