Poor Will's Almanack by Bill Felker 

 

Jan. 19-25, 2015

It is the time of the year when the foxes seek their mates. The wood stirs; there is hardly a night that we do not overhear some odd living sound or uneasy cry. The clock of the stars has struck, and life has awakened in the cold and has turned and has heard.

-Henry Beston,

Northern Farm

Lunar phase and lore

The Marauding Mouse Moon wanes and darkens until it introduces the first signs of spring, wandering skunks and opossums, under the Skunk and Opossum Moon, new on Jan. 20 at 8:14 a.m.

New moon combines with powerful perigee (when the moon is closest to Earth) on Jan. 21, creating a potent time for seeding bedding plants and hardy spring vegetables in flats under lights.

Rising in the morning and setting in the evening, the Skunk and Opossum Moon passes overhead in the middle of the day, making that time the most favorable lunar position for fishing or hunting, especially as the barometer drops before the Jan. 25 cold front. Plant seeds when the dark moon passes through Pisces on Jan. 22-24.

Weather trends

After the January thaw, the likelihood of cooler conditions increases briefly, making Jan. 25-26 some of the crueler days of the month. And although Jan. 31 can bring sub-freezing temperatures 40 percent of the time, that day introduces the possibility of a high in the 60s for the first time since Jan. 7.

Between Jan. 26-28, dry conditions prevail 75 percent of the years, and Jan. 27 is the usually sunniest day in the month, bringing an 80 percent chance for clear to partly cloudy skies. Jan. 30 is the cloudiest day in the second half of January, with a 70 percent chance for overcast conditions and precipitation.

The natural calendar

Jan. 19: Riding the winds of the thaw, flocks of starlings often appear at bird feeders during the third week of January, sometimes accompanied by robins and blackbirds.

Jan. 20: Today’s new moon is likely to foil the arrival of the January Thaw this year. Stay indoors and seed your bedding plants.

Jan. 21: The sun enters its sign of Aquarius on Jan. 20, foreshadowing late winter. And the day’s length is approaching a springlike 10 hours along the 40th Parallel.

Jan. 22: Foxes and coyotes may be extra hungry. Check the chicken coop and keep watch over your livestock. Owls are nesting.

Jan. 23: When the first knuckles of rhubarb emerge from the ground, then it’s time to plant onion sets and seed cold frames with spinach, radishes and lettuce.

Jan. 24: Crows have begun migration.

Jan. 25: The front that arrives as late winter begins often spawns storms, accompanied by snow or rain, and the days following its arrival make Jan. 25-26 some of the month’s chillier days.

In field and garden

Jan. 19: Tomorrow’s new moon marks a surge in the running of sap.

Jan. 20: There is no better time than the dark moon in January to force daffodils and tulips into bloom. If you don’t have any, go out and cut a pussy willow branch, put it in some nice warm sugar water and then watch March appear.

Jan. 21: Frost seeding typically begins at this time of the year: red clover is broadcast in the fields, and grass seed is scattered over bare spots on the lawn.

Jan. 22: Reserve your spring chicks for March, April or May so they can gain weight throughout the summer and be ready to lay by late summer and early autumn.

Jan. 23: Rhubarb leaves emerge in the sun, and Lenten roses are budding. Those farmers and gardeners who fly to central Florida for a January vacation can find elderberries an azaleas blooming in milder years. Calves and lambs will be out in the fields throughout the warm South.

Jan. 24: Plan ahead and fertilize while the weather is still cold. Winter fertilizing not only frees up time in the spring for the many farm and garden chores that follow warm weather, but it provides a modicum of insurance against spring rain delays. The frozen soil of winter also resists compaction from heavy equipment.

Jan. 25: In late winter, treat ash, bittersweet, fir, elm, flowering fruit trees, hawthorn, juniper, lilac, linden, maple, oak, pine, poplar, spruce, sweet gum, tulip tree and willow for scales and mites. Spray trees when temperatures rise into the upper 30s or 40s.

Almanac literature

Great American Story Contest entry

Slow Motion Ride

By Jerry Golay

Vevay Ind.

It was the winter of 2004, and there was about an inch of ice on the highway, covered with about 8 inches of snow that had just fallen. There were cars and trucks stuck everywhere, so I was going as slow as I could. I had an old ’67 GMC van.

As I started down the ramp to get onto 70 west, the back of my van just kept turning around until I was going backwards into the traffic going west. Now I was going backwards down the interstate in the slow lane, and an 18-wheeler was passing me.

And the van just kept doing a loop and then it looped just under the back wheels of the trailer. Then everything went into slow motion, and my van was up under the trailer and I could hear glass breaking and metal bending around me. Still in slow motion, I saw my childhood and everything I had done all the years of my life, all at the same time.

Then the  semi spit my van out from under it and sent me onto the median, still going backwards. The median was soft and muddy, and just as I was starting to go into the traffic going east, I slowed in the mud and came to a stop, and by now there were people coming to see if I was all right.

My van was a straight stick, so I slammed it down into first gear and popped the clutch, and out I came and the old van wheeled up onto the highway and got over to the emergency lane. I got out, and all the people who had gotten out of their cars were clapping and whistling, and the other people were blowing their horns and flashing their lights.

Two guys came up to see if I was alright, and we looked at my van. The doors just behind the passenger seat were gone. The back doors were still on but just flapping the wind. Two tires were off the rims, and the back of my van was about two feet shorter. There was one tire on one side that was still on, but off the rim, and I slowly made my way to the next exit.

When I got there both of my hands were hurting; I had bent the steering wheel in half. But I didn’t have a scratch. It proved to me that there is a God!

Winners of the Great American Almanac Story Contest will not be announced until all selected entries appear in this column.