Folklore and Weather Forecast December 5, 2022

When I was in college majoring in meteorology (just in case you didn’t know), one of my professors was working on his paper about the relationship between folklore and weather patterns. One of the subjects he was investigating was the size of the tails of small animals we commonly saw.

When squirrels’ tails look skinny during fall, for example, the coming winter will be mild. But when those little critters have bushy hairy tails in fall, it will be followed by a bitter cold winter.

I have been puzzled over the squirrels all fall long this year as I see both – some have thin tails while others have halfway bushy tails. They are still the same way around me now in November. So, what should we expect for the winter 2022 – 2023? How do they look in your area? Let me know!

(The original appeared in Thorpe Vineyard November 2022 Newsletter.)

Indian Summer and Koharu (小春) Biyori (日和) October 18, 2019

深い秋が訪れた！ (春を含んで)

 立原道造　「忘れてしまって」より

“The deepened Autumn has arrived! (with Spring within)”

by Michizou Tachihara, translated by Fumie Thorpe

The stretch of pleasant sunny weather last week kept reminding me of the term “Indian Summer.” According to my search result, its use is meant to be after experiencing killing frost. We did have the first frost on October 4th, but it was not hard enough to bring an end to the growing season up here. Despite the definition, it came to me along with this line of a poem that I first read over 40 years ago.

We call the warmup after killing frost (or noticeable cool down toward the end of fall) Koharu (小春) Biyori (日和) in Japan. Koharu (小春) is an alternative name of October in Lunar Calendar that falls anywhere between late October and early December in Solar Calendar. The Chinese characters mean “Little (小) Spring (春).” Biyori, or hiyori depending on the context, (日和) indicates a right weather condition for a specific event to happen. So, Koharu (小春) Biyori (日和) means the nice weather, as if spring had come back after having a cold weather pattern that foreshadowed coming winter during a month of Lunar October (that is “Indian Summer” in English to me).

Indian Summer is said to have its origin in England, again, according to my search. Summer is no doubt the most pleasing season of all out there with longer daylight, reasonably warm temperatures and low humidity, due to their locality at higher latitude and on the western side of a continent. I don’t wonder why they think of summer when the enjoyable warm weather returns after winter-like chill.

On the contrary, summer is hot and moisture laden with lots of rain in Asia. Remember: Eastern to Southeastern Asia sits in the prominent monsoon zone, where the high annual rainfall enables there to be the largest rice producing region in the world. Summer is often sultry and uncomfortable (to say the least!); not quite the weather we imagine when pleasant warmth revisits following an early sign of winter. As the natural transition of seasons, we think of spring after undergoing some wintry weather.

Michizou Tachihara has been my single most beloved poet since I first encountered his works when I was in Junior High School. He died of tuberculosis in 1939 at the age of 25. He saw the surge of nationalism that divided and lead the world to the Second War. Those were the days when so many lives, especially youngsters, were lost to the war and diseases there, here and elsewhere even before they had a chance to know what life could have really meant.

Summer or spring; the difference in terminology reflects the language we speak and the climate we live in. But we all know the sense of comfort in the return of warmth in late fall – it’s a moment of joy in finding a “little spring,” to me, beyond the brilliant foliage and in the soft breeze that weaves through the vineyards.

Flowers Bloom June 19, 2019

For the first time in 20 years my ‘May Flowers’ did not bloom during the month of May. May Flowers is, of course, a nickname I gave to the irises we had transplanted from the old house to here when we built a new home at the winery in 1999. A few years ago, I came so close to having said the same thing. My May Flowers always bloom on Memorial Day weekend, but that year they didn’t at the beginning of the long holiday weekend. But in the end the blossoms arrived on Memorial Day Monday. Flowers always keep their word. They relieved me then.

But this year they finally broke their promise. When Memorial Day weekend ended without the blossoms of May Flowers, I looked up at the sky and thought about the cold rain and winds we kept getting throughout the month. The flower buds were; however, swelling quickly as the month headed toward June.

The clouds were hanging low, and the cool mist was flowing in from the Lake in the morning of June 6th. Another chilly damp start of a day was replaced by the sunshine by lunchtime. I was busy in and out of my farm barn, taking advantage of the dry afternoon by working on my tractor. When I was passing by the flower bed along the winery barn in late afternoon, I saw some light purple swaying in the breeze. Oh, my May Flowers! I stopped to look and smell the brand-new blossoms. “It’s not when, but the fact that they’ve returned.” It was a moment of confidence that was found in the arrival of this year’s May Flowers.

Groundhog Day and Setsubun(節分) February 12, 2019

It was late January 1984 when I first heard the term “Groundhog Day.”  I was getting ready for the second semester of my freshman year at SUNY Oswego.  “Groundhog Day” — what is “groundhog”??  Lots of things were still so unknown for someone who just came from Tokyo to pursue the college degree in meteorology and astronomy in rural Upstate New York.  I don’t recall when I finally discovered the meaning of the day correctly but do remember wondering about this: this is about the same time when we celebrate the arrival of spring in Japan.  Is there any relationship to that?

The question resurfaced and faded as Groundhog Day passed every year until I came across an article in the February issue of Astronomy Magazine in 2007.  Yes, I did see a writing about Groundhog Day and its implication to the duration between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox.  To my regret it slipped through between my busy schedules then.  So, when I saw the revised version of the article on Facebook this year, I was delighted!

The idea of Groundhog Day was brought to America by German immigrants, and the animal of choice in their old country was hedgehog, according to the author, Rich Talcott.  Well, it makes sense as it has been famous as a Pennsylvania Dutch tradition and that’s where Punxsutawney Phil resides.  But my true interests lie in why it’s February 2^nd every year, and Rich explains it as one of the four so-called cross-quarter days, which mark the midpoints between the solstices and equinoxes.  Ah, that’s Setsubun (節分)! 

The Lunar Calendar was predominant in the Eastern Hemisphere until modern era.  To my knowledge it is still in regular use in some nations including those in the Middle East.  It is based on the movement of the Moon, that completes its cycle around the Earth in 29.5 Solar days.  As time goes on, a half to one and a half days difference per month will result in considerable gap between the Lunar and Solar Calendars in terms of which month or season it is at one point of time.  Ancient astronomers observed the sun’s location in the sky to invent some tools for farmers to follow for their field work – farming has been always essential to mankind throughout the history.  They learned when the solstices and equinoxes happened, then divided the entire year into four seasons setting a solstice or an equinox at the middle of a season.  So, the point which is equivalent from a solstice and an equinox was set as a Setsubun, that is a cross-quarter day in Rich’s word.  Setsu, denoted by 節, means a season, and Bun, 分, a dividing point; all together Setsubun 節分 means where it divides two seasons.  Precisely speaking there are four Setsubuns per year.  However, the one between winter and spring has been what we customarily indicate when we say Setsubun.  As is Groundhog Day, knowing a coming spring is the significant event in our lives thus we celebrate the day.  It’s been always the fascinating fact that we, in the East, denote an end of a season at Setsubun so that a solstice or an equinox is the middle of the following season to the contrary a beginning of a season is either at a solstice or an equinox in the Western Hemisphere.

On the day of Setsubun, which usually falls on February 3^rd, we throw roasted soybeans out of the openings of our house, doors and windows, to expel any evil souls, called Oni 鬼.  Pictured here are the roasted soybeans in an oak container and paper masks denoting Onis.  Oni comes in red or blue.  A person in the family wears a mask and acts as an Oni, and the rest of us throw the soybeans at him/her in the hopes to eliminate any evil souls before welcoming new spring.  The day after Setsubun is the first day of spring in our calendar called Risshun 立春.  (An oak container like this is used to drink sake giving the oak flavor to the drink.  Sounds familiar??)

When we look around the world, we notice that there is a broad notion of a “month” that consists of around 30 days, that makes me wonder if just about every culture and/or civilization once set the movement of the Moon as an indicator of time in life as well as the Sun.  As we evolved, we couldn’t neglect the discord of those celestial bodies, so we had to find the way to compromise.  Perhaps Old Germans, as well as other Europeans, figured out what we did in the East.  Or there might have been communications between the West and the East in the past, and Groundhog Day and Setsubun might be the results of such.  We, as humans, seem to share certain omnipresent senses regardless where we physically exist.

Incidentally, I was recently asked when the Chinese New Year’s would be this year.  I would have never heard this question when I first came here over 30 years ago.  I felt so amused that I responded by asking, “do you know when the next new moon will be?”  The person who asked me the question looked startled. They are still with the Lunar Calendar, so the first of a month is always the day of new moon.  Maybe it’s a handy trick for you to remember!

Note: If you are interested in knowing more of the astronomical facts concerning Groundhog Day, visit the blog or Facebook page of Astronomy Magazine.

Songbirds November 21, 2018

The very hot and very dry summer came to an end in the middle of August when we got over 5 inches of rain within a few days. The heat continued, but the rain made a comeback to my rain gauge from time to time. A hot and dry summer is good for the grapes, but when it became rather droughty, it brought a different kind of concern to the grape growers, myself included. So, it was a welcome change to see some rain every now and then. As the grapes were already well underway to early harvest due to the mid-summer heat, that also kept the disease pressure low; occasional rainy days even felt refreshing following the extremely hot period.

At the beginning of September the rain went away somehow, and it started to dry out again. I recalled the beautiful fall weather of last year – sunny and much warmer than normal temperatures – which brought us a great harvest time. After a soggy summer, it appeared as if we’d be reliving the true summer of 2017. I started to prepare for the harvest, which was for sure to come earlier this year, without much doubt to have the same sort of harvest time as last year, based on the dry summer we’d had.

The changes happened when the remnant of tropical systems dumped the moisture in the middle of September. It was not necessarily rain, but high humidity in the forms of dews, mists and fogs all the time. There were not many occasions for the grapes to dry out; the excessive moisture promotes the growth of the spoilage microorganisms, namely bunch rot, aka botrytis, and downy mildew. Now we had to forget about the low disease pressure: we’ve got to do something! Luckily the grapes were ripening quickly so we started our harvest. Diamond came in first (if you are a fan of Evening Glow and/or Fialka, this variety gives the flavor you love), and Maréchal Foch and Pinot Noir followed.

October 2018 turned out to be another memorable month, to say the least, in which we weathered two totally separate seasons in just one month. The first half was more or less like summer, while the latter half brought a sure taste of winter. Rain also prevailed throughout the month. We tried to move along as much as we could before the spread of the diseases would become a serious threat to the grapes.

One day when I walked out from the winery barn to head back to the house, I heard a clear musical whistle in the backyard. Oh, a White-throated Sparrow! I instantly stopped to look toward the brush where the voice came from. It was another gray damp day in the first week of October. The whistle was repeated a few times then quiet down. White-throated Sparrows appear in spring when we have wet weather before trees bud out around here. They always seem to be busy feeding on the leftover seeds from the previous year, and somehow move away when the sun gets higher in the blue sky as the season progresses into summer. The misty October afternoon resembled the rainy spring weather in which I’m used to seeing them. I heard their song time to time though never caught them in sight.

We finished our harvest on October 14^th and were busy processing the grapes the following day. I was a little nervous as a storm was called for in the afternoon – when we crush and press the grapes, we have to leave the front door of the winery barn wide open. The winds picked up gradually, and by early afternoon stormy looking clouds filled the sky that appeared to be getting ready to come down. I heard the distant roar over the Lake. “Must be the cold front approaching,” I thought as I’d had the same experience in the past. Fortunately, it never poured here while we were working. By shortly after sunset we finished cleaning and closed the door. I felt relieved.

The cold front swapped the season from summer to winter overnight, and it remained wet and chilly the rest of the month. I started to see Northern Juncos frequently in the yard who are messengers of the coming winter. Bluebirds were often on the power wires – do you know we have year-round bluebirds here? White-throated Sparrows were still heard in the brush in the cold rain along with the familiar voices of Cardinals, House Finches and Common Flickers.

While I waited for the foliage, the winds ripped a lot of leaves from the trees this fall. My backyard was no exception as the brush turned bare gradually as I walked back and forth between the buildings everyday. One moment I came to a halt to look around the brush – I hadn’t heard the clear whistles for a few days. It was the last week of October under the gray sky that was such an accustomed scene by then. “Maybe they left,” I thought. “I don’t know where they overwinter, but they have a place to go.”  It felt like the chilly mist was coming in from the Lake. “I’ll see you again in the spring rain.” It was my promise to the Songbirds for sure to return next year.

The Blue Moons of 2018 January 24, 2018

The year 2018 started out with a so-called Super Moon if you remember — it is a full (or new) moon that occurs when the Moon is near or at the closest point to the Earth on its orbit called the perigee. Since the Moon is closer to us than other times, it appears bigger thus brighter (when the lunar phase is full). This Super Moon was actually the closest Super Moon throughout 2018. So, you would think that we already had the best show of the Moon this year.

 

The Moon takes 29.5 days to circle around the Earth. Consequently, we will see a second full moon this month, that is called a Blue Moon. Incidentally this Blue Moon will also happen near the perigee, that makes it a Super Moon again, and will be occulted in our planet’s shadow displaying the total lunar eclipse on the 31^st. Wow! That’s a rare occurrence. We will see the total lunar eclipse of the Super Blue Moon; some call the eclipsed moon a Blood Moon, so it will be the Super Blue Blood Moon. (In the East we call the color of the moon in the total eclipse “copper” – I think it sounds softer than blood.) But, oh well, in either way, this will be indeed an extraordinary month to see two full moons in this manner.

 

Then following February will have no full moon. Look above – the lunar cycle is 29.5 days. That is longer than the number of the days in February, isn’t it? So, we’ll see the Moon, of course, but not in the phase of full. And remember; a month without a full moon can only happen in February because of this.

 

We will have a repeat of January in March, that we will see a Blue Moon again. The first full moon will be on the 1^st of the month, then the second full moon, the Blue Moon, will occur on the 31^st. Neither of them will be a Super Moon this time (to my knowledge at this moment; forgive me if I’m wrong), but it’s still uncommon to have a Blue Moon again within two months. You know the way of saying, once in a Blue Moon, that means something that doesn’t happen frequently, don’t you? Statistically a Blue Moon occurs once in about two and a half years. So, we are now witnessing some very interesting moments in history.

 

I have kept my weather log ever since this winery operation was initiated. In the last December when I was preparing my book for 2018, this moon behavior caught my attention. As I filled the calendar in with the lunar phases along with other phenomena I follow every year, I realized what kind of year this 2018 would be. — I have a memory of having a year just like this in the past. Two Blue Moons and February without a full moon in between. When was it? Which year?? — It was way before this electronic era when few media would bother picking up some “little” star incidents into their news – perhaps except some astronomy-related magazines and articles. In the frigid January the Moon started its trek from waning to waxing; spent February without getting full accordingly. By the time the second Blue Moon of that year arrived, we were here getting ready to open our Tasting Room door to welcome another season in spring. And, so will we again this year.

Bush Roses November 4, 2017

This has been a rough year for the bush roses around our Tasting Room. After the balmy winter and spring, the deceptive summer followed with lots of cool rainy days. Then when the flower buds grew large enough for the blossoms any day, deer ate most of them one night. I was outraged. Mildew from the prolonged excessive rain defoliated many of them despite my fungicide sprays. “I’ve never seen them this miserable,” I thought, dispirited all summer long from the obvious certainty that I would lose them after this season.

September seemed to have turned the things around. The sunny days and comfortably warm, occasionally very summery, temperatures were back to our region. The grapes wasted no time taking advantage of the nice weather – and so did the bush roses. By the time October arrived there were a number of new clean shoots developing, and eventually the flower buds were forming on the top of them. “If they won’t get frosted, they might survive.” I started to have some hope in my mind.

Last weekend I had two young couples visiting our Tasting Room together. I learned that they were sisters and their husbands as they walked in and we started to chat. One moment I just glanced outside the picture window because something moved in my sight. One of the sisters was a little behind – she was smelling the roses that had just started to bloom a few days ago. “Beautiful!” She rushed in with a glowing smile and quickly joined our conversation. It was another mild sunny day for late October, and perhaps the best day we had for the bush roses this year.

Bluebirds nesting in the Vineyard June 1, 2017

Father Bluebird guarding the Box

On the way back from the vineyard work one afternoon I saw a pair of bluebirds hopping around one of the bluebird boxes at the end of the North Vineyard.  I knew they’d made a home out of it this year — the second time I can remember in the last over 20 years.  I had kept seeing them flying back and forth between the box and the woods; sometimes obviously protecting it from other birds trying to sneak into it.  I walked back to my house to drop my tools off on the porch while eyeing on the male bluebird perched on the vineyard post just above their sweet home.  I had my camera in my hand, and quietly started walking toward him.

Maybe around 70 feet I took the first shot.  Well, it was a little too far; his figure was just a small dot in the screen.  I went a little closer to take the next shot.  Hmmm, still a little far away.  The bluebird was, of course, watching me approaching to their box.  I went another 10 feet.  Maybe a little more.  — How close can I get?  I kept inching up while shooting him every so often.  Then one moment he finally took off.  He flew toward the other end of the vineyard, but swirled above the grape vines and landed on the top of another post in the middle of the vineyard.  We looked at each other for a moment, then I walked away to go back to my house.

 

 

 

Feeling like May… April 26, 2017

Sour cherries in the backyard are in bloom while honeysuckles’ leaves grow larger every day in this last week of April — it already feels like May. The grapes are nearing to bud break; perhaps any time for Maréchal Foch, always the first to turn green in my vineyards. After observing the grape buds with the watchful eyes, I see the flowers and the wind that trembles them, and the endless blue sky sparkling overhead.

 

 

 

Annular Solar Eclipse of May 1994 March 28, 2017

Believe it or not, there was an annular solar eclipse visible from right here on May 10, 1994.  I was out of college a few years prior to it, and the construction of our current Tasting Room was nearing its completion. Our season used to start on Memorial Day weekend so it was still pretty quiet around here that time of the year, especially on weekdays. I was working in the wine cellar waiting for the totality of the eclipse. I had an access to a welder’s protective lens — a piece of very deeply tinted glass that was meant for being installed on a welder’s helmet to keep their vision safe from the sparks they would produce while working in their shop. It was dark enough to safely observe the sun as well. I walked in and out from the tank room to the driveway every so often while working on the wine to follow the progress of the eclipse with the piece of the glass in my hand.  When the totality arrived, I saw the thin ring of the sun through the lens and the shadows of myself on the gravel. A few days later I wrote the following for the memorable moment I was fortunate to have. Now another solar eclipse is coming this August, and I will of course use the same piece of the glass to observe the sun again.

 

Annular Solar Eclipse

Beneath the sky
in the marvelous shine
the shadows are in layers
as they move.
At high noon
I look up at the phenomenon,
that, perhaps,
happens only once
in my lifetime here.