Poor Will's Almanack by Bill Felker 

 

Feb. 23-March 1, 2015

We felt the stir of hall and street,

The pulse of life that round us beat;

The chill embargo of the snow

Was melted in the genial glow;

Wide swung again our ice-locked door,

And all the world was ours once more.

-John Greenleaf Whittier 

Lunar phase and lore

The moon enters its second quarter at 11:48 p.m. on Feb. 27, then waxes throughout the first days of March, becoming full at 1:06 p.m. March 5 and reaching apogee (its position farthest from Earth) the same day.

Rising in the afternoon and setting before dawn, this moon travels overhead after sundown, encouraging fish to feed from late in the day into the dark, especially as the last cold front of February and the first front of March approach.

Plant seeds and hardy sets in Taurus on Feb. 23-24 and in Cancer from Feb. 25-March 1.

Weather trends

Throughout March, average temperatures climb almost a dozen degrees, the world warming twice as fast as it did in February. Starting in the lower 30s on the first of the month, normal averages rise 1 degree every 50 hours, reaching the middle 40s by the beginning of April.

Typical lows swell from the 20s to well above freezing, and highs climb from the lower 40s up to near 55. A typical March temperature distribution for the lower Midwest includes up to two days in the 70s, five days in the 60s, six days in the 50s, nine days in the 40s, eight days in the 30s and one day in the 20s.

Frost occurs on about a dozen of the 31 mornings in March. Once in a great while, the land is frost-free after equinox, and the last hard freeze of the season frequently takes place prior to the first of April.

The natural calendar

Feb. 23: Salamanders mate in the warming rains.

Feb. 24: The chilly Feb. 24 front almost always pushes Snowdrop Winter deep into the South.

Feb. 25: Spring forest fire season approaches in the Appalachian Mountains.

Feb. 26: In the warmest years, honeybees and carpenter bees collect pollen from dandelions, red maples, henbit and chickweed.

Feb. 27: The peak of Canada goose migration through Ohio and Indiana usually occurs at the end of February.

Feb. 28: Redbuds and azaleas are in full bloom in southern Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana; only 6-7 weeks before they flower in the lower Midwest.

March 1: Woodcocks come north across the Ohio River. Daffodils bud. Aster leaves appear.

In field and garden

Feb. 23: Force branches from flowering trees as the moon waxes.

Feb. 24: Plant seeds for flowers and vegetables that produce their fruit aboveground before full moon (March 5).

Feb. 25: As the moon wanes through the second week of March, continue seeding in flats (or directly in the ground) vegetables that will produce their fruit belowground.

Feb. 26: Install cross fences to facilitate crop rotation.

Feb. 27: Remove old rhubarb and asparagus stalks, cleaning out around the beds, digging in well-rotted manure.

Feb. 28: Graft and repot house plants. Dig fence post holes when the ground is soft and wet.

March 1: Try a first row of radishes, leeks, peas. Put in spring wheat when conditions permit.

Almanac literature

Great American Story Contest entry

A Coveted Campfire 

By Emanuel Shrock

Ashland, Ohio

We love campfires.

When someone mentions a camping trip they took, our minds automatically visualize a camping scene, made complete by a cozy fire.

But what if you are already on a camping trip and you failed to make provisions for a fire? That is what once happened to my cousin and me when we were still teenagers.

My uncle owned 60 acres of woods that joined another large tract of woods.

It was here, as dusk set in and the songs of nocturnal insects and creatures filled the air deep in the heart of this pristine setting, that my cousin and I wanted a campfire.

We wanted it badly, but I had one small package of book matches.

Being novice fire starters, we used up the matches rather quickly at first. We became more cautious as there were fewer and fewer matches.

But then, hey, we were down to one match! We needed to think this thing out before we struck it. Since the driest leaves and twigs we found had not brought the desired results thus far, we reasoned we needed alternative fuel. Our clothes? No, we couldn’t do that.

Not our homemade shirts, anyway – but we could get by without our underwear T-shirts. We used them both and built a blazing fire that lasted far into the night, occasionally sending sprays of sparks skyward to dip into the heart of the 60-acre woods. Our T-shirts had done the trick.

Hanes is not paying me to write our story, nor is Fruit of the Loom. And by spilling the beans about our costly fire, I suppose I am risking the wrath of middle-aged mothers everywhere. (My own mother will be able to digest this bit of information quietly, I hope, since she has not been financially responsible for me for a good many years.)

With all this in mind, I want to advise you to never, ever burn your T-shirt to get a fire going. Unless, of course, you are down to your last match.

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