March 21-27, 2011
... and soon

shall blow the warm west-winds of spring
To set the unbound rills in tune,
And hither urge the bluebirds wing.
The vales shall laugh in flowers, the woods
Grow misty green with leafing buds,
and violets and wind-flowers sway
against the throbbing heart of May.
-John Greenleaf Whittier

Lunar phase and lore

The Pussy Willow Moon enters its last quarter at 7:07 a.m. March 26, bringing the last of the catkins out of their winter hulls and gilding them with pollen. Rising after midnight and setting in the afternoon, this moon is overhead near sunup.

Leaving Scorpio for Sagittarius on March 23, the Pussy Willow Moon comes into Capricorn on March 25, Aquarius on March 28 and Pisces on March 30. Lunar position favors the planting or shrubs and trees as well as carrots, beets and onions this week, especially all weekend in Capricorn and next week in Pisces.
The darkening moon is ideal for docking tails, clipping hooves, castrating sheep and goats, as well as for dental work and surgery on all beasts and humans.
When the moon moves overhead in the early morning this week, fish should be more active and dieters could experience more temptation. The falling barometer when cold fronts approach near March 24 and 29 should increase fishing success but dampen the willpower of dieters.

Weather patterns

The last week of the month brings exciting changes. On March 30, for the first time since Oct. 22, there is a 5 percent chance for highs to reach 80 degrees. And on March 31, those chances double. On March 23, the odds for morning frost are about one in two, but on March 29, those odds fall to just one in four.
In the warmest years of all, frost can be gone until October or November (but an average season brings 20 more dawns below the freezing mark). Through March 28, cold afternoons in the 30s still happen one year in 10 or 15, but then on March 29-30, chances for such cold drop to less than 5 percent for the first time since the end of October.

Daybook

March 21: Daffodils are opening, marking the time that sandhill cranes migrate in the Rocky Mountains.

March 22: New raspberry leaves are almost ready for tea. Blue scilla could be blooming beneath them. In the hills of Ohio, West Virginia and Pennsylvania, yellow coltsfoot blossoms. In the wetlands, touch-me-nots have sprouted.
The likelihood of a thunderstorm is six times greater this week than it was during the first two-thirds of March. And tornado season usually starts now in the lower Midwest and lasts through the summer.

March 23: Cardinals are singing just a few minutes after 6 a.m. Half an hour earlier come the first notes of the great predawn chorus of robins. Later in the day, flickers and pileated woodpeckers call to establish their territories.
March 24: Touch-me-not sprouts are up but quite small. Winter wheat fields are bright green. Garlic mustard seeds have opened in dense clumps. Snowdrops are almost all gone, and quince buds are reddening.

March 25: When the afternoons warm to only 60 (and at least 45 percent of them do on this date), question mark, tortoiseshell and cabbage butterflies come looking for nectar. Shepherd’s purse opens in the alleys. The first white star magnolia blooms unravel. Yellow-bellied sapsuckers arrive, and the first mosquitoes bite.

March 26: Leaves are starting to grow on skunk cabbage. First violet-blue periwinkles bloom in the sun. Gold finches – their breasts just starting to turn yellow – are chasing each other through the leafing honeysuckles. Yellow, white and purple snow crocus have passed their best.

March 27: The blue-winged teal, the marsh hawk and the rough-legged hawk migrate to the lower Midwest.

Almanac classics
One Time, it Got a Little Exciting …
By Rita Hoffman
Burgoon, Ohio

Way back in the 1930s, our one-room school always had nice PTA meetings, and they provided us lots of entertainment.

We missed these fun meetings so much in the summertime that we continued to get together for parties in our neighbors’ homes. One time, it got a little exciting.

In the ‘30s, you know, we had no electricity or bathrooms. So after dark you would either light your coal oil lantern or take a flashlight and go down that little narrow path when necessary, praying no bat, bird or animal would appear in front of you.

One nice summer evening party, a lady came into the house, so out of breath she could hardly tell anyone what happened. Finally the poor soul got her words out. She said: “The flashlight slipped down the hole of the toilet!”
Everyone had to go see how that big five-cell flashlight lit things up. It did a good job!

This is a good reason to be thankful and appreciate electricity – and also, bathrooms.