Weather Lore

( Originally Published Early 1900's )

ARE you one of those thousands of persons who believe in the groundhog's relation to the weather? Do you plant your sweet peas in the light of the full moon or during the period of the new moon? Do you forecast an early winter by the flight of the birds when the first cool spell touches us, or do you watch the squirrel in autumn to see whether or not he is storing up much or little food, in order that you may judge as to whether we shall have a hard winter or an open winter? Are you one who predicts the weather for to-morrow by the amount of aches in your corns or the pains in your rheumatic back or legs or hands? Do you say that if it rains on the first Sunday of the month it will rain every Sunday in the same month? If your answers to these questions are "yes," then you are a believer in weather lore, or at least in certain kinds of weather lore. By weather lore we mean sayings good or bad about the weather which have been handed down through the years and even the ages. Their origin in most instances is unknown a few deserve recognition as having truly scientific merit, although they have had no scientific origin; most of them, unfortunately, must be classified as interesting, curious, or entertaining but as wholly worthless so far as concerns their application to the weather.

Superstition, of course, is not new in the world. It seems to have been with us throughout all time, and though the present is said to be that of an educated age, superstition still persists. Consider the multitude of persons who fear number thirteen ; so many, in fact, that hotels usually do not list it among their room numbers ; some office buildings have no thirteenth floor ; railroad passengers frequently refuse to sleep in berth thirteen. Think of the thousands who will not walk under a step-ladder, or are cast into gloom if they break a mirror. Legions are those who would neither receive a knife nor present one as a gift.

Is it any wonder, then, that we should still find people everywhere who have absolute faith in sayings and signs about the weather, even when there is not one iota of value in them? We have said that some bits of weather lore possess merit. Let's look them over and try to understand them.

Rain before seven, stops before eleven.

This saying has much good truth in it, for if it rains before seven, more than likely it has been raining the greater part of the night and the storm is about over. In the hours between seven and eleven, old Sol gets in his effective heating which begins to dissipate the clouds, and as he rises high in the heavens toward noon his chances of success in breaking up the entire cloud covering are highly favorable.

To a red sun is assigned the responsibility for much of our inclement weather, particularly rain.

If the red sun begin his race,
Be sure the rain will fall apace.

The red color indicates a humid atmosphere and perhaps a fair quantity of dust. The combination, while not always productive of rain, is favorable to it, provided the temperature is right. So rain may or may not occur. If it does, we have confidence in the saying, and if it does not, we usually forget that our quotation failed to run true.

Mackerel scales and mares' tails,
Make lofty ships carry low sails.

Very good ! Observation of the cloud sequence in a storm area reveals the fact that usually cirrus clouds, fine feathery transparent or trans-lucent clouds five or ten miles high, appear first, followed by the somewhat lower and more opaque cirro-stratus (mares' tails) , and then the still lower puffball-like alto-cumulus (mackerel) clouds. As forerunners of a storm they imply increasingly strong winds; hence, sailors beware. Rain frequently accompanies the wind.

A ring around the moon is a sign of rain.

Here is logical reasoning. The ring is caused by the presence of high cirrus clouds made up of minute ice-crystals. As the light of the moon shines through this ice veil, a ring is formed such as we may see when an electric light shines through a frosted pane of glass. The approach of cirrus clouds, forerunners of unsettled weather, is indicated upon a moonlight night by the appearance of the ring hence the ring as a sign of rain.

Rainbow at night, sailors' delight ;
Rainbow in morning, sailors' warning.

The observation may be taken to heart by us landlubbers as well as by sailors. Rainbows, as we know, are formed against the clouds opposite the sun. If we see one in the late afternoon it must be in the east, where clouds still hang while in the west the sun shines. Since our storms move from west to east, the rainbow seen in the afternoon points to the passing on of the storm and clearing to the westward. On the other hand, a rainbow in the morning must be in our western sky, where clouds are approaching, and consequently means that rain may be heading toward us.

When the sun draws water, rain will follow.

This description of what we seem to see is excellent, but the fact is that this fan-like alternation of rays of light with shadow does not represent the drawing of water. The sun's rays are merely interrupted by bands of dense clouds which at fairly frequent intervals are thin enough to allow the bright sun's rays to penetrate to the earth. We then see these distinct bundles of rays separated by shadows cast by the clouds which prevent other rays from passing. The fan effect is purely an optical illusion, as the rays from the sun actually reach the earth parallel to each other.

As to the forecast merits of the statement, there is only slight value. If we observe the "drawing of water" in the west, obviously clouds have accumulated in that direction, and if they are in abundance, rain may follow, since naturally- clouds are an index of moisture in the air. If the temperature conditions are proper for the condensation of that moisture, rain is more than likely.

Thus far we have devoted attention to signs of bad weather, but not all lore is pessimistic. Good weather has its sayings too. A few of the many interesting ones deserve close inspection.

Red skies in the evening precede fine tomorrows.

Many proverbs predicting fine weather emphasize a red sunset. Sky colors tell much about the moisture and dust content of the air, two elements that cause them. The details of the manner in which colors are created involve too long and intricate a story for us here, but for those who desire to delve into the scientific ex-planation, remember that the process called refraction causes the breaking up of light into its varied colors. Books on physics engage in the theory of light, while meteorologies present the theory with special reference to the atmosphere. We shall venture a little distance in the field when later we discuss the alluring rainbow. The particular saying quoted at the beginning of this paragraph carries significance because a red sun-set announces a dry atmosphere. The air may be dusty, but the dust motes either carry no water vapor upon them or only slight amounts, and therefore conditions are not favorable to the accumulation of drops of water in cloud form resulting in possible subsequent rain.

If we'd no moon at all,
And that may seem strange,
We still should have weather
That's subject to change.

This squib sounds a bit sarcastic, but oh, how true ! We quote it because of its optimism and because many persons believe the moon affects our weather. The moon has absolutely no influence upon the weather. Of course, some will say they know better, but careful study has proved the moon ineffective. Only the appearance of the moon, influenced by the moisture in the air, sometimes points to the kind of weather we may experience. The moon itself is innocent. Every one has seen the "man in the moon," but no one believes he sees the face of a real being.

Wild geese flying north are a sign of warm weather.

As this is written, the evening newspaper carries a note that a flock of geese during the morning flew northward in wedge-like formation over the city while the temperature still flirted with the zero mark. Perhaps we should take heart that spring will soon be here. We hardly dare draw sweeping conclusions from a single flock, but if we do not lean too heavily upon this harbinger of spring we shall not go far wrong if we accept it as possessing a little truth.

Winds have been associated with weather changes from time immemorial. Greek philosophers were impressed by them and the ancients erected temples to them. However, the sayings are not of such wide application as those we have just noted. Winds of a given direction rarely are associated with the same type of weather. For example, winds from westerly directions in the eastern half of the United States are usually thought of as clearing winds. In England, the westerlies bring rain. This difference may be accounted for by the fact that in the United States the westerlies are land winds, while in England they come from the sea that is, the Lows of which they are a part come from the sea.

The wind in the west
Suits every one best.

True in the eastern United States and eastern Europe, but not true everywhere, as we have just suggested in the case of England for ex-ample.

A high wind drives away the frost.

Frost cannot be driven away but its formation may be prevented, as we have said in an earlier chapter. The wind stirs up the atmosphere, thereby checking radiation. By bringing new supplies of warm air to a given place, the cooling of the surface to which the air is brought will be slowed down and the combination of a temperature of 32° F. and of saturated air will not occur. Therefore, no frost will form.

Weather lore which forecasts for a period of weeks or for a whole season is not uncommon. Much of this lore is based upon the behavior of animals. When the squirrel supposedly stores up unusual quantities of food, the winter is going to be long and hard. If the groundhog sees his shadow on February 2 (Candlemas Day), six weeks more of winter are in store. Sayings associated with beavers, bears, geese, dogs, and a long list of other animals have no scientific basis. Occasionally a forecast seems to be borne out, but this is no more than the usual 50 per cent chance of verification in a guess involving either a "yes" or a "no" for an answer. Should the animal signs prove true in a given year, we remember the coincidence; but if they fail, we forget the fact.

In the same class with animals as a basis for seasonal forecasts are the occurrences of specific kinds of weather upon given days or in certain months. None of them may be substantiated. Only happenstance has given them credence among a considerable number of persons, but mostly among those who have never bothered to investigate their logic or the actual percentage of verification.

A few samples of popular lore which should be tabooed by modern civilization follow:

If on a Friday it rain,
'Twill on Sunday again.

When it storms on the first Sunday in the month, it will storm every Sunday during the month.

If March comes in like a lion, it will go out like a lamb.

A dry May will be followed by a wet June.

If October bring heavy frosts and wind, then will January and February be mild.

Not ordinarily classified as lore is Indian summer. Occurring usually in middle or late October or early November, it comes as a welcome return of warm, balmy days after the first few experiences of the approaching winter have plunged us into a state of reminiscence over the joys of the summer just passed, For the population of the northeastern quarter of the United States Indian summer presents a thrill rarely equaled by other seasons. The magnificently colored foliage, verily painted landscapes upon every horizon, a calm, hazy, leisurely atmosphere, and yet no exhilaration in the setting, combine to enthuse even one who is inclined to be gloomy.

Indian summer is not a distinct season, nor is its date set. We feel confident the warm spell which it represents will occur in the autumn, but just when we do not know. This is evidenced by the common remarks that "this year Indian summer is late" or "this weather cannot be Indian summer, as it is too early." Again, the period of delightful warm days and cool quiet nights recurs several times in some years, as the latter quotation implies, and when this happens we have difficulty in determining which period is Indian summer. Then we may make a choice as best suits our personal whims.

Indian summer is really not unique so far as weather variations are concerned. It represents merely a temperature fluctuation in a transition season. En route from summer to winter, weather sequences involve a good deal of uncertainty. Similar reversions, as it were, occur in spring, only they are not so pleasant and therefore we do not look upon them with a sympathetic and enthusiastic attitude. As winter leaves us and the first suggestions of spring permeate the air, we look over our garden tools to see if they are in working order, or wash and paint the automobile in preparation for the preliminary weekend country tours. And then a day comes when the wind howls, the temperature drops, a few odd flakes are caught up a dozen times before they alight, and lo ! the winter is with us once more. A few days of this mixture and there comes another return to spring. These alternations, as with Indian summer, may occur several times before spring acquires consistency, but the returns of winter are so distasteful that they have acquired neither a name nor a reputation.

"January thaws" in the cold snowy portions of the country are traditional, and 'yet they do not happen every year. In January of 1929, for example, the thaw was absent. Like Indian summer, it is characterized by irregularity. The thaw may come in January, but February is not immune, and in a given year this may be the month of our first considerable thaw. Professor Ward, noted climatologist of Harvard University, directs attention to the fact that this thaw is produced by a sequence of Lows and Highs similar to that inducing Indian summer. He states that "spells of fine weather, with temperatures above the average, hazy skies, and gentle southerly winds are likely to come at any time."

Another popular weather tradition brings into the limelight the proverbial "equinoctial" storms. To attempt to disillusion any one who already is a convert to this storm theory is not only nearly hopeless but perhaps heresy. However, consider the meaning of the expression, and then perhaps we shall still remain friends, for it is possible to find in it both right and wrong.

The equinox that is, the days of the year when daylight and darkness are of equal length and the sun is upon the equator seemingly "en route" either from north to south or south to north happens about March 21 or 22 and again September 21 or 22. Both of these times mark transitions from one season to another periods of weather uncertainty. Storms occur at frequent intervals, and sometimes they may happen exactly upon the day that the sun crosses the equator. Has the crossing of the equator caused the storm? Impossible! We find no relationship to exist between this astronomical occurrence and the local weather, and furthermore have no assurance that a storm will occur whenever the crossing happens. In this sense equinoctial storms are a myth. If any one still doubts this, then reflect for a moment what ought to happen if the theory were good. Storms should dominate all places on the earth at the same time. We well know this is not the case.

Suppose we look upon the expression "equinoctial storms" from another angle. If we mean merely that at the time of year when the sun crosses the equator the earth experiences a change of seasons and therefore a period of unsettled weather sets in, at many points, we can justify this favorite expression. We then recognize that storminess at these times is usually more frequent than at other periods, that the equinox itself plays no causal part and has no direct bearing upon the situation, but rather that the position of the earth with respect to the sun is such as to favor unsettled weather. We shall not be surprised if, in the locality where we happen to be, the weather. is beautiful throughout the equinoctial crossing, nor shall we feel in the event of a thunder-storm that the sun's location upon the equator has caused it.

Sometimes our "equinoctial storms" (using this term in the sense noted in the last paragraph) are impressive when they occur at the end of a long drought. Extended dry periods usually terminate with thunder-storms. Let us remember, however, that the equinox has no responsibility in this connection. On the other hand, certain men seem to be with us at all times to provide rain when we need it and if we will pay them accordingly; they call themselves rain-makers. In view of their cunning and of the manner in which they extract perfectly good dollars from unsuspecting persons, we should know how they work and determine whether or not they are engaged in a legitimate business.

Rain-makers usually visit regions where a protracted drought has been in progress. They familiarize themselves with the duration of droughts in former years and, acting on the law of averages, proceed to make a proposition to the farmers of the drought-ridden area. They may propose that for every one hundredth of an inch of rain they be paid $1,000 or $3,000 or some other sum, in accordance with the rain-makers' impression of what the particular group of farmers may be willing to pay. They may agree to produce rain within a week or two weeks, depending upon how near to an end the rain-makers think the drought may be.

If an agreement is concluded, the rainmaker sets up a wood tower twenty-five to forty feet in height or other contraption, introduces a few meaningless attachments, and acts as though he were a very busy man engaged in the pursuit of bringing about rain. If his guess has been a good one, rain will fall before long and the farmers will pay their hard-earned money to this faker. If rain does not occur as promised, the faker usually is driven from town.

Rain cannot be forced from clouds, and clouds cannot be induced to form by any means known to man. Many attempts have been made to pro-duce rain but none have met with success. Only the faker who is fortunate enough occasionally to time his manipulations when nature already is set for rain claims triumphs in rain-making.

Rainmaking suggests a theory held for years by observers who have thought rain could be associated with battles. Recent theorists maintain that the firing of heavy artillery vibrates the atmosphere sufficiently to force moisture from the clouds, but here again the attempts to produce rain by firing shrapnel into clouds, experiments conducted by the Germans and by our own Government, failed to produce more than a few drops of water, not enough to be identified as rain.

When the United States entered the war and our "Four-minute Men" talked from one end of the land to the other, urging our boys to go to the front, frequent mention was made of the opportunity to see "sunny' France." When the boys arrived on the battle-field and experienced cold drizzles, fog, heavy clouds, and all other discomforts accompanying them, they asked, "Where is sunny France? Why all this rain?" They were told by some that normally the weather was fine, but the continuous cannonading produced the unusual rain. It is regrettable that the truth was not told. The boys experienced normal weather and the artillery was in no sense responsible. There is a sunny France, but it is along the Mediterranean in the South of France.