The sky is leaking rain today, only 55 degrees. I'm not sure if this is good weather even for a duck.
We went through a summer drought here, no rain for about a month, and now we've gotten more than three inches over the past few weeks. That's probably a good thing, though. According to The Old Farmer's Almanac, this winter will have below average snowfall and an
unusually mild start to the season, punctuated by sharp temperature swings and highly unpredictable precipitation patterns.
While that forecast sounds mysterious and impressive, it is awfully vague. It basically says Minnesota's winter will be predictably unpredictable. It will get cold... and it will warm up (it is called the "January thaw," and it happens every winter). It might snow a lot... and it might not (no, that's not really helpful). Honestly, it doesn't tell me much that I don't already know, aside from a mild December and below average snowfall.
Where did this forecast come from? The answer is actually kind of fun.
Way back in 1792, when the Almanac was first published (it is the oldest continuously published periodical in North America), the original publisher and editor, Robert B. Thomas, invented a secret forecasting method using both solar activity and astronomy. This secret formula is still used today.
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| Robert Thomas published The Old Farmer's Almanac from 1792 to 1846. He died reading the proofs for the 1847 publication. He's an unsung American icon. |
The Old Farmer's Almanac boasts an 80% weather forecast accuracy claim. That's refuted by the University of Illinois, which conducted its own study and found the Almanac to be accurate roughly 50.7% for temperatures and 51.9% for precipitation, citing that a random guess would be accurate 50% of the time.
But scientific data be damned! The U.S. government so respected the Almanac's accuracy, that when a World War II German spy was caught with a copy of the publication, Uncle Sam instructed the editors to change their description from "weather forecast" to "weather indications," fearing the enemy could use its long-range forecasts to schedule attacks. A less definitive "weather indications" felt less certain. Fearing censorship, the Almanac complied.
Abraham Lincoln famously used The Old Farmer's Almanac's 1857 edition to acquit an innocent man on murder charges, proving there was a new moon on the night a witness falsely claimed to see the accused fleeing the crime scene in the "bright moonlight" (the witness subsequently admitted to lying under oath).
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| An original copy of the 1857 Old Farmer's Almanac (No. 65), used as evidence by a little known defense lawyer from Illinois, Abraham Lincoln. |
I confess, I am very fond of the Almanac. Whether its forecasts (or "indications") are accurate is unimportant to me: in the end, it is a connection to my parents. Those 288 pages give me a warm, tangible connection to my youth. It feels like home.
The Almanac was a constant presence during my childhood. We always had a well-thumbed copy lying around the house, either lounging on the kitchen table or tucked away near my dad's rocking chair. Dad enjoyed the day-to-day forecasts, which were always set to a little poem. Mom liked the gardening tips and recipes. A September without a new Almanac would've been like Christmas without presents at our house.
Today, we live in an age of constant stimulation. A continuous bombardment of the senses: text messages, emails, phone calls, never-ending social media notifications. Our brains are never allowed to pause. The Old Farmer's Almanac feels like a welcomed stretch-and-yawn back to a much slower and much simpler time. A time to reflect as the raindrops puddle in the yard. A time to simply study the steam rising from a cup of coffee. A time to just be for a while.
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| Photo by Ava Branstner |
I love that the Almanac is still here.
I love that the yellow, woodcut cover has never changed. I love that a 235 year-old "secret formula" is still used to predict weather patterns (no matter how nebulous it might be!). I love that the editors have refused to succumb to an all digital format or AI generated crap. And I love that the publication still sells greater than three million copies a year.
I thank The Old Farmer's Almanac for never really changing in well over two centuries. Sometimes, progress is overrated.
So here's to publication No. 235...
I know if my parents were here, they'd already have their copy.
My copy is arriving tomorrow!