Weatherlore and predicting the winter

Goldenrod

Now that I’ve officially proclaimed the start of fall (ahem!), it’s time to start looking to the signs for the winter ahead. Collecting natural weatherlore is something of a hobby of mine. I find it all very interesting and some of it is even right. My own experience suggests that you can’t bank on one piece of weather lore to tell the story, but when you get a couple or several of them lining up in one direction or another, there’s often something to it.

Even for me, it’s a bit early to predict what the winter ahead might look like, so I thought I’d report on some of the more interesting bits of lore I’ve collected and will use in the weeks to come to attempt to predict the severity of the upcoming winter.

"If a cold August follows a hot July, it foretells a winter hard and dry." August 2014 here on Roundtop was a bit colder than average but not by very much. I might say this means an average or slightly colder than average winter but nothing to get your knickers in a twist over.

"For every fog in August there will be a snowfall in winter." Hmm, we did have a fair amount of fog on those gloomy August days.

If anthills are high in July, winter will be snowy." I didn’t really look.

"Onion skins very thin, mild winter coming in." Truthfully, the onion skins look pretty normal to me, but I’m no expert.

I’m sure you’ve all heard some of the other ones—thick animal coats equal a tough winter; squirrels frantically gathering nuts, thick corn husks are all supposed to equal tough winters. My animals are only just starting to shed so it’s too soon for me to tell about that one. The squirrels aren’t doing much of anything unusual yet and the corn husks, well, I’m about as much an expert with those as I am with onion skins.

For many of the truisms, it’s still too early to see. October and even November weather is what most of them go by to predict the winter ahead. So stay tuned. At the moment, the signs are very vaguely pointing towards an average or perhaps a slightly colder than average winter, but nothing looks dire. At least not yet.

Colors of fall

 The sunlight this morning was especially nice, making even dry and withered plants look more golden than brownish.  In the bright light of midday, the mullein is more the color of a cigar.  The goldenrod still looks golden, though.  About the only flowers left are the tiny fleabanes that are nearly lost in the yellowing grasses.

 This isn’t a true fall color change. It’s more a drying of the forest from lack of rain. Perhaps that lack is forcing the leaves to change sooner than the temperature and hours of daylight would indicate.  I just hope some leaves are left to produce the prettier fall colors.

More Gold

Yes, it’s a goldenrod. Likely because I am not allergic to this plant, I find them quite pretty. Golden colors seem to follow me everywhere on the mountain right now. Goldfinch, goldenrod, even the withering leaves are at least temporarily golden. The longer shadows of the early September mornings are taking on a golden hue. After the whiter, harsher light of summer, the change is both noticeable and welcome.

It is beginning to feel like fall, or at least it no longer feels like summer to me. It’s odd, too, in a way because today’s temperature and tomorrow’s will be near 90 degrees, rather warm for this time of year, rather warm by the standards of this cool summer. And yet, it simply no longer feels like summer. Perhaps it is the warmer, more golden light. Perhaps it is something else, something I can sense, though it is not something I can pinpoint intellectually and describe precisely what it is.

I have learned and continue to learn to value my senses and the things they tell me. Not always being able to explain what my senses tell me doesn’t diminish the value of their lessons. Some things are so primal that words aren’t necessary. Like the coming of fall. I can smell it. I can feel it. Deep within that primal part of me, I know it.