Today on the way back from town, I saw two woolly bear caterpillars. You know the woolly bears. The black-and-rust bristly woolly worms that can allegedly predict the winter harshness. Uh huh. Since my guys here at the Mansion refuse to get me persimmons every fall, and the weather forecasters are paid the same whether they are correct or not (they might as well be called WHETHER forecasters), I rely on the woolly bears for my snow day hopes and dreams.
Last year, I saw many, many woolly bears crossing the road in July and August. They were solid black. And we had 21 SNOW DAYS!
Today, the first woolly bear was black. The second one was about half black, on the ends, with his middle half being rust-colored. Okay. I was really concentrating on seeing that second one because he was on blacktop, whereas the first one was on that new section of concrete road behind the high school where I should send The Pony because we live in their district. So there I was, squinting past T-Hoe's black hood, watching that woolly bear creep across the blacktop...and...well...I just...um...might have...accidentally...run over him.
Perhaps I only ran over half of him. Because in my rearview mirror, I could see him squirming, but he wasn't really making any progress. I figured one of those birds flying around would make quick work of him. That's the breaks, you know, when you're a woolly bear caterpillar, and you have that big band of rust around your waist, and don't blend in with the blacktop.
Of course scientific rumor has it that the woolly bears come in all variations of black-and-rustedness, depending on their age. Poppycock! I saw a plethora of solid black ones, and we had 21 SNOW DAYS. That's good enough for me. No need to repeat that experiment!
I would prefer to use the knife/fork/spoon persimmon predictor as well. But even though I ask Farmer H and The Pony to get me persimmons, which they tauntingly talk about every fall, "Oh, the persimmon trees are FULL of persimmons!" they never seem to bring me even ONE persimmon to slice open.
"They're still green. I think you need to wait until they ripen."
"Oh. Okay. I'll bring you one."
"I forgot."
"Persimmon? They all fell off the trees now."
"I can't. The goat and pony ate them all. The only ones left are way up high. I can't reach/shake them down."
Yeah. It's hard out here for a whether forecaster.
3 comments:
I do NOT want to be updated on your upcoming retirement. However, I would gladly listen to your predictions about the weather... as long as it involves lots of snow and ice for your district and mine.
So... tell me more caterpillar tales. I'm listening.
I have a persimmon tree in the dog park. Didn't produce last year, but if it does this year, I will be calling on you for the forecast!
Sioux,
What? You don't share in my joy of imminent release from the workday world? You, Madam, must not care about people!
*****
Kathy,
Allegedly (according to Farmer H) you have to wait until after the first frost. Then (according to me and my extensive internet research and a reading of The Farmer's Almanac), you cut the seeds in half. If the seed shows a knife, the winter will be icy. A spoon means a lot of heavy snow. A fork means a mild winter with powdery snow.
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