HAPPY HAMUARY (in honor of Tim Horton's new ham sandwich).
It's Groundhog Day, which means a few things:
- Rodents of the Maritimes have declared an early spring. I'm surprised they could get out of their little holes with all this snow.
- I need to find a job because in 6 weeks, I'll either be employed, or asking for donations.
So... I've been doing a little painting, and making many mental notes regarding the impending kitchen reno (which means we'll be saving and thrifting and buying accordingly and it'll get done when we have what we need) BUT I have a scheme and a plan, so the hard part is done.I need milk and coffee and I should go out, as it's calling for another (on top of the 15cm/6" ish we got last night) 45 cm/18" today. I loathe the snow. Despise it. I know we don't get a lot compared to some places, but I think I was born in the wrong hemisphere; I am not designed for winter. I do love weather though. As a science, not as something that has to be salted and shoveled and cursed and fallen in. This is us today
Yay. Which brings me back to the rodent. Why do we have a fuzzy little guy ("Furry, not fuzzy." "Furry. Fuzzy. What's the difference?" "You don't know the difference between furry and fuzzy?" Anywaaaay....) forecasting the weather? Well this is what I found from here:
This tradition started in the 1700's in Pennsylvania with the German settlers
who lived there. They are called Pennsylvania Dutch today. This was called
Candlemas Day and occurred halfway between the Winter Solstice and Spring
Equinox. The tradition said that if the weather was fair, then the second half
of winter would be stormy and cold. If the weather was bad, there would be an
early Spring. Here is the poem that the Germans would say:
"For as the sun shines on Candlemas Day,
So far will the snow swirl until May.
For as the snow blows on Candlemas Day,
So far will the sun shine before May."
Well then, we're in luck, because this Candlemas Day certainly blows. How a groundhog got involved, I'm not sure. I can only assume one of them wandered out unwittingly, and a tradition was born.