Let me make it perfectly clear. This Angelkeep Journals’ writer is not, repeat not, referring to my lovely wife, Gwen, when writing “Old Wives.” That Godly woman speaks truth.
However, Gwen loves winter and adores a good snowfall, unlike her male marriage counterpart. With spring on the near horizon, today’s column will attempt to clarify a few facts from fantasy.
Everyone knows, with the exception of the prognosticator on Groundhog’s Day, spring usually falls on March 20 every year. So what happened to 2024? Think spring on March 19. A whole day early. Give us three cheers for spring fans. Spring! Spring! Spring!
“March’ll search ye, April try ye, whether live or die ye.”
The equinox connected to the calendar, oddly due to man’s time adjustments. And you thought “springing ahead one hour” was bad. It is leap year. Every leap year until 2048 will have spring beginning on the 19. Spring will never again start on the 21st during the 21st century. Spring will last 3.764 days longer than winter this year. Yeah, Spring!
“To successfully grow hot peppers, one must get mad while planting them.”
Angelkeep once grew peppers, mostly bell, sweet, and banana types. It’s a bygone. Getting mad occurred after planting. It seemed deer, chipmunks, and even the Easter Bunny, enjoyed a pepper plant now and again. They ate well before any blooms could convert to a garden veggie. Angelkeep’s experience with the old wives’ tale came as an after-planting madness. Angelkeep gained bliss by copycatting Peter Piper picking a pound of peppers in a produce aisle.
“If it rains on the first Sunday of the month, every Sunday except one usually will be wet.”
How can this old wives’ tale explain the event that happened at Angelkeep once upon a time when the front lawn remained sunny, but the backyard, consisting primarily of Angelpond, received rainfall? Explain that one, old wives’.
“Achy joints? Cold weather is coming!”
Angelkeep, both male and female, can speak to the absolute accuracy of this particular old wives’ tale. It’s not rocket science. It’s arthritic rheumatism. It’s hereditary. Sorry kids, your day is coming. Gwen’s father had arthritis severely. Gwen’s father’s name was Arthur. That explains a lot.
“Red sky at night, Sailor’s delight; red sky in morning, sailors take warning.”
Truer words are never more often spoken at Angelkeep. However Gwen learned it only slightly different. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight; red sky of morning, sailor takes warning.”
“A heavy dew at night promises a good day to follow.”
This writer had ample recollection of the truth to this wives’ tale. Heavy night dew tended to bring out night crawlers. They emerged in great abundance in the wet grass, often for the purpose of the romantic half-body “hug” that produced offspring, if you get the drift. They were so engrossed in their moment, grabbing them in pairs proved easy. Dozens collected within a half hour meant a generous supply for the next day’s fishing jaunt. Any day of fishing was a good day, fully loaded with bait even better, and productive. Thus, one reason this old wives’ tale speaks truth.
Balancing an egg on end during the equinox was not a wives’ tale, it was actually fact. It required patience. True also for any day of the year. Sprinkling a bit of salt on the table helped eliminate some of the patience needed. Don’t forget to save that egg for the old sidewalk egg fry of summer’s blistering warm dog days.
“A wish made on the first robin of spring will be granted.”
If only! Angelkeep captured photos and videos of robins all winter. There was no robin migration from Angelkeep. Some fly away. Many robins migrate only sixty miles. If Angelkeep robins flew south sixty miles as “snow birds” they’d be basking in Richmond, Ind. Wasn’t Richmond the historical hometown of East Haven, the Eastern Indiana Hospital for the Insane, at one time?
Robins were not a sign of spring. Robins eating earthworms from the ground were a sign of spring. Earthworms were the true sign. Robins were simply enjoying the spring charcuterie. After spending winter eating berries, vegetarian robins’ old wives’ were being asked to “show me the meat.”
Mr. Daugherty is a Wells County resident who, along with his wife Gwen, enjoy their backyard and have named it “Angelkeep.”
