It’s not even August but this old country boy suddenly is seeing signs of a tough winter to come.
The sugar cane that has become something of a front-yard novelty is setting its seeds a solid six weeks ahead of schedule.
This member of the sorghum family, which most passersby mistake for corn, is barely four feet tall. Now, that’s where it should be in late July. But those telltale yellow top plumes that are forming now and then will turn a beautiful bronze typically don’t do so until early September. And then not until those cane stalks begin to top out near the 10-foot mark.
Two squirrels were caught observing the phenomenon just the other day from atop the porch roof. Their cane interest is more acute than in years past since they watched a crew take down an oak across the street, one whose acorns long had been prized for their bury-‘em-anywhere pantry.
“We have a lot of work to do,” said one. “And earlier than usual,” the other added. A blue jay confirmed the conversation.
Meanwhile, out back, the crab apple tree overhanging the deck has set the most fruit it ever has in nearly 30 years. The term “loaded for bear” comes to mind.
Branches that last year barely brushed the fully extended canvass awning this year were hanging nearly two feet lower. An aggressive pruning was needed to keep the retractable cover operational.
But all that fruit is a pretty solid sign that Mother Nature is preparing the faunae with ample florae for something. And that something typically is a winter wallop ahead.
Those branches of plenty surely are preparing to bank a feast to feed birds and squirrels alike as a good old-fashioned deep snowpack persists.
But there are other signs that the winter to come might be a winter we’ll all like to forget.
The out-of-cycle cicadas started singing earlier than usual. Their clarion back-to-school chorus commenced a month early.
Woodpeckers have been very active. And the fact that some are sharing the same tree – another harbinger for old winter-prognosticating hands –should not be taken lightly.
Woolly worms? Out and about early and more than a few have been nearly all black – another precursor old country boys older than me suggest should sound the harsh winter alert.
Some might ascribe these indicators to “folklore.” Others will label them “old wives tales.” Still others will figure out a way to contort it all into a proof-positive case of “global warming.”
Nonetheless, when the storms of the winter of 2018-19 arrive, yours truly will be the first to remind you of the ruminations herein.
Of course, should the coming winter fall short of being a walloping whopper, and never having been a fan of readers prosecuting recriminations, the cyber record of this column might just magically disappear. Ahem.
Colin McNickle is a senior fellow and media specialist at the Allegheny Institute for Public Policy (cmcnickle@alleghenyinstitute.org).
