March Gran'ma Gertie

Howdy Ya’ll!

Gran’ma Gertie here. Jest been settin’ on the front porch watchin’ the world go by. Now that March has arrived, I’m jest waitin’ on full blown spring. My tulip bulbs are jest now sproutin’ out, the mockin’bird’s is lookin’ fer nestin’ spots, and Gran’pa’s been talkin’ ‘bout the fence rows that need cleanin’.

If all the old almanacs are right, it should be pretty fair weather. In like a lion and out like a lamb, you know. Since I been followin’ the signs my whole life, I often wonder how the new fangled weather men git their predictions. If’n I watch the fog rise, I know I got some rain or a real heavy dew comin’. If’n it settles, ain’t no rain. I never needed one of them baro-meter things to tell me that.

If I go outside and it’s windy, I know what direction it’s comin’ from! I may not know the miles-an-hour, but I can judge if’n it’s enough to dry clothes on the line. If it’s real gusty, I can let the gran’young’uns fly their kites out in the back field. If it ain’t too breezy, I can sow some flow’r seed in the bed out by the back porch. I ain’t never needed a wind sock thing to tell me that!

I know that in the fall, if’n the sunsets real red, we got cooler weather comin’. You can tell if’n a hard winter’s comin’ by how many acorns fall, and how fat the squirrels are. You can also tell what kind of winter’s comin’ by the corn shucks. If the shucks are few and loose, a mild winter, if’n they’re heavy and wrapped real tight, count on a hard winter. When you see a ring around the moon, count how many stars are in the ring - that’s how many days ‘till rain. If’n you listen to the birds, you can tell if a storm’s approachin’. They always git real quiet, and usually lite somewhere to ride it out.

Now I know that all signs ain’t fer real. They was probably started by some superstitious ol’ maid to amuse herself and scare the daylights outta the young’uns. Like a bird in the house or a hoot owl outside yer window at night means death to someone close to you. Well, let me tell you, I’ve lived in the woods ‘bout all my life, heard hoot owls scream half the night, and had birds git in the house when I aired it out, and ain’t nobody died unless they was s’posed to! I do admit, though, to crossin’ out the path of a black cat if’n he crosses mine! Just in case.

I know most of this stuff seems perty silly to the young’uns of today. After all, they got all kinds of computer stuff to tell’em what’s what. They can find out in the blink of an eye what the weather is in any city in the world. I reckon it must be important to some people to know if’n it’s rainin’ in Paris, but me, I just need to know what the weather is in my own little area. I need to know things like will my clothes git dry on the line, or will I need to hang’em on the back porch? Will mine and Gran’pa’s rheumatism be bad this winter, or will we fair all right? If’n the gran’young’uns come over, can they go out and play, or drive me crazy playin’ in the house? These are the things that are important to me. And a lot of people like me.

I guess my point is that times are changin’, and they’re changin’ real fast. I just hope that somewhere, there’s a Gran’ma or Gran’pa teachin’ the young’uns the old ways, too. I’d hate to see the day when nobody remembers anymore. Now I ain’t sayin’ that I’m against learnin’ new things, or that the new ways ain’t no good. There’s been a lot of good progress that I’ve lived to see, but there’s a lot of things our young’uns could learn. Things that have had us country folks survivin’ fer years. We been buildin’ homes, plantin’ crops, raising meat, and bringin’ up young’uns fer hunderds o’years, without no fancy machines to tell us how to do it. Seems to me, we been perty smart! I jest hope we don’t let the young’uns ferget that. Learnin’ is somethin’ that nobody can take away from you, and you never know when you jest might need it!


‘Till next time,

Gran’ma Gertie.