It’s Ground Hog Day—you know, the day when that fat,
indolent marmot who lounges around all year in his
heated burrow in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania sticks his
furry head out of his hole and weighs in with his annual
prognostication about the prospects for an early spring
or six more weeks of winter.
He’s an early riser—at
least today, 5:30 a.m. being the official time according
to groundhog.org,
the official site of the Punxsutawney Ground Hog Club—so
by the time you are reading this column, he’s already
either seen his shadow and retreated into the comfort of
his subterranean lair or admitted the obvious: Spring is
just around the corner if not here already.
The celebration of
Groundhog Day began with Pennsylvania's earliest
settlers. They brought with them the legend of Candlemas
Day, which states, “For as the sun shines on Candlemas
Day, so far will the snow swirl in May...”
Punxsutawney held its
first Groundhog Day in the 1800s. The first official
trek to Gobbler's Knob was made on February 2, 1887,
beginning a tradition that is almost 120 years old.
According to legend, if
Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow, there will be six
more weeks of winter weather. If he does not see his
shadow, there will be an early spring.
Have you ever wondered
why that fat fur ball sees his shadow over 80 percent of
the time and scampers back into his burrow? Try this
simple experiment at home. Some chilly morning, just
before the clock radio goes off, while you are lying
there all cozy under the warm covers, push your spouse
out of bed on to the cold, hard floor and note the
reaction.
But don’t try it this
year.
Frankly, it doesn’t
matter what Punxsutawney Phil saw or didn’t see earlier
this morning.
Last week, the National
Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration reported that
2005 tied the record set in 1998 for the warmest year on
record in the last 100 years. And if January’s weather
is a trend, then 2006 should surpass last year’s record
warmth.
This past Monday it was
in the 60s at my house. The daffodils are already poking
their tender shoots through the pine bark nuggets out by
the roadside. There’s no snow left anywhere—even the
deep piles made by the plows earlier in December are
mere memories of a winter that never materialized.
The only groundhogs
you should be paying attention to are the ones that will
soon be scurrying across the highway as they frolic in
the warm weather, certain to follow the rest of this
month and on into the spring and summer.
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