The turn of the seasons: the faint odor of skunk in the air…. And the stench of the cattail marsh….. It was a smell like the aroma of the skunk; overpoweringly sweet, penetrating and impossible to get rid of. And then in the distance could be heard the sound of a flock of blackbirds arriving, a rustling sound like the wind in the leaves of the cottonwood  — Paul Gruchow, Journal of a Prairie Year

The pace of spring quickens as the sun reaches 40 percent of the way to equinox by February 12. On that day, sunset is almost an hour later than it was at winter solstice. Sunrise is a little more than half an hour earlier. 

The Stars: Traveling with Jupiter and Mars, find Cygnus, the Swan (shaped like a cross) quite close to them, forecasting summer (since it is part of the Summer Triangle of stars).

The Natural Calendar: Markers of Early Spring include the sporadic blooming of dandelions in sunnier lawns, the increasing activity of water striders and small moths on warmer days, the running of maple sap (as new Moon and Early Spring arrive together), the nesting of cardinals, the nighttime mating of salamanders in shallow pools, the courtship of raccoons. Other important steps in the progress of the month include the first wasp and the first fly investigating the warmth of a south wall.

Weather Trends: The 11th through the 15th  ushers in the third major cold wave of the month, and this is typically the last severe front of winter.  By the 14th, chances for highs in the 20s or below fall to only ten percent, and by the 15th, chances for spring warmth above 50 degrees jump to 40 percent per day - the highest so far this year. This change is so dramatic on local weather charts, that it can easily be called the beginning of Early Spring - a six-week period of changeable conditions during which milder weather gradually overwhelms the cold. This year, however, the new Moon on February 15 is likely to delay the arrival of that season.

Fish, Game, Livestock and Birds: Doves begin mating calls before dawn, joining the titmice and the cardinals. Red-winged blackbirds migrate north to the wetlands. Striped bass often start to bite (more than likely with the Moon overhead in the morning as the barometer falls before the cold fronts of the middle of the month). Schedule routine livestock maintenance and foot clipping before the new moon. Clip your fingernails in preparation for lambing and kidding. As Early Spring approaches later this month, watch for your mare to come into estrus. 

In the Field and Garden: Under the dark Moon, spray trees with dormant oil when temperatures rise into the upper 30s or 40s. In garden ponds, algae is growing thicker, a sign that thaws accumulate in water as well as in the soil. Purchase seeds and prepare landscaping, garden and field maps, including plans for double cropping, intercropping and companion planting. 

ALMANACK LITERATURE

in the Classroom

By Sue Hallam, Shiloh, OH

Anyone who has spent 30 years (or 30 minutes) in a classroom being inspected by 30 pairs of eyes and ears knows the high potential for embarrassing moments. Sooner or later, catastrophe strikes.

The warm days of spring awaken the earth and specifically the insects that inhabit it. My classroom on the third floor was above the cafeteria so that the enticing (or not) odors wafted up and in through the windows. In the days before we got our duct-taped, X-slashed screens, bees entered the room on those currents of olfactory delight. Their onomatopoeic buzz as they dived and soared excited the students as no lesson I devised ever could.

Kids screamed, dodged, swatted, and generally enjoyed the distraction the bees provided. Several brave boys, bee swatting notebooks in hand, dashed around the room making exaggerated swings at the marauders, often “missing” their targets and smacking another student on the back of his head. Even more chaos was raised if they hit the target and splattered bee guts on the window, desk, or wall.

In an attempt to restore order, I calmly recited the lie that bees only sting if provoked. Usually the children’s blood lust was satisfied by a few dead bees, and then the children reluctantly and watchfully retuned to the tasks at hand. I reassured the students that if one stood still, remained calm, and didn’t panic, the bees would not sting.

I was congratulating myself on my professional handing of yet another bee invasion when one surviving bee warrior, intent on revenging the smashing of his companions, flew behind my glasses.

I screamed, ducked, and swatted. My glasses flew into the air and landed three rows back. (Fortunately intact.)  My nose began to run in response to the pain I had inflicted on it. My textbook tumbled to the floor and  lay in  a crumpled heap. I may even have uttered an “expletive deleted,” judging by the startled “Ooohs” and “Uh-ohs” from the class.

The event came to a close when a voice from the back of the room said, “I guess you provoked that one, Mrs. Hallam.”

Oh, the joys of teaching!