I lived just a few hours from Gobbler's Knob, where the pomp and circumstance could never be more than on a bleak winter's morning when the whole town (plus a few thousand crazy drunk college kids) gather around a tree stump to waking the sleeping rodent. Once you leave the immediate zone, Gobbler's Knob, Phil, and the whole deal are pretty much insignificant. In grade school in PA we made groundhog puppets and sang songs about Phil and his shadow. I am pretty sure the kids of North Carolina didn't do the same. So, while the distance factor probably plays a part in the lack of interest in G.H.D., I would also place bets that the climate has something to do with it. In North Carolina, on February 2nd chances are, shadow or not, we will NOT be having 6 more weeks of winter. That is the main reason that I moved to this lovely state. Phil's predictions are null and void when spring usually pops up by mid March. There is something beautiful about knowing that daffodils and warm weather is but several weeks away. No, it won't be flip-flop season just yet, but the sounds of birds chirping and the sight of buds on the trees is enough to hold me until I can break out the bathing suit. Ironically, it seems funny that the indigenous PA folks who follow the furry guy and his weather predictions should know that chances are, shadow or not, that they are DEFINITELY in store for 6 more weeks of winter (at least). Many an April in PA have seen snow flurries and blustery winter weather. In fact, I recall a Mother's Day with snow. So, whether Phil sees his shadow (which he generally does), or he doesn't, or whether you live under the Carolina blue sky, or the Pittsburgh gray sky, we should embrace this noble weatherman who makes February 2nd just a little more fun.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Ode to Phil
Today is Groundhog Day. For most of the nation this means little. I didn't realize how little it meant until I moved away from the homeland of the world's most famous slumbering groundhog. The mystery of whether Punxsutawney Phil would see his shadow was the question on every one's mind in the day leading up to G.H.D. and first and foremost when you awoke on February 2nd. It was rare that he didn't see his shadow, but the suspense was killer none the less. Here, in the lovely and much more temperate south (aside from this past weekend in which the city was coated with 4 inches of ice and snow) there isn't much fanfare given to old Phil. I would bet that most people might not even know his name. And, if they do it's likely because of Bill Murray and the movie in the early 90's which paid tribute to this overly unrecognized holiday. Perhaps it's because of the geographical location. 
I lived just a few hours from Gobbler's Knob, where the pomp and circumstance could never be more than on a bleak winter's morning when the whole town (plus a few thousand crazy drunk college kids) gather around a tree stump to waking the sleeping rodent. Once you leave the immediate zone, Gobbler's Knob, Phil, and the whole deal are pretty much insignificant. In grade school in PA we made groundhog puppets and sang songs about Phil and his shadow. I am pretty sure the kids of North Carolina didn't do the same. So, while the distance factor probably plays a part in the lack of interest in G.H.D., I would also place bets that the climate has something to do with it. In North Carolina, on February 2nd chances are, shadow or not, we will NOT be having 6 more weeks of winter. That is the main reason that I moved to this lovely state. Phil's predictions are null and void when spring usually pops up by mid March. There is something beautiful about knowing that daffodils and warm weather is but several weeks away. No, it won't be flip-flop season just yet, but the sounds of birds chirping and the sight of buds on the trees is enough to hold me until I can break out the bathing suit. Ironically, it seems funny that the indigenous PA folks who follow the furry guy and his weather predictions should know that chances are, shadow or not, that they are DEFINITELY in store for 6 more weeks of winter (at least). Many an April in PA have seen snow flurries and blustery winter weather. In fact, I recall a Mother's Day with snow. So, whether Phil sees his shadow (which he generally does), or he doesn't, or whether you live under the Carolina blue sky, or the Pittsburgh gray sky, we should embrace this noble weatherman who makes February 2nd just a little more fun.
I lived just a few hours from Gobbler's Knob, where the pomp and circumstance could never be more than on a bleak winter's morning when the whole town (plus a few thousand crazy drunk college kids) gather around a tree stump to waking the sleeping rodent. Once you leave the immediate zone, Gobbler's Knob, Phil, and the whole deal are pretty much insignificant. In grade school in PA we made groundhog puppets and sang songs about Phil and his shadow. I am pretty sure the kids of North Carolina didn't do the same. So, while the distance factor probably plays a part in the lack of interest in G.H.D., I would also place bets that the climate has something to do with it. In North Carolina, on February 2nd chances are, shadow or not, we will NOT be having 6 more weeks of winter. That is the main reason that I moved to this lovely state. Phil's predictions are null and void when spring usually pops up by mid March. There is something beautiful about knowing that daffodils and warm weather is but several weeks away. No, it won't be flip-flop season just yet, but the sounds of birds chirping and the sight of buds on the trees is enough to hold me until I can break out the bathing suit. Ironically, it seems funny that the indigenous PA folks who follow the furry guy and his weather predictions should know that chances are, shadow or not, that they are DEFINITELY in store for 6 more weeks of winter (at least). Many an April in PA have seen snow flurries and blustery winter weather. In fact, I recall a Mother's Day with snow. So, whether Phil sees his shadow (which he generally does), or he doesn't, or whether you live under the Carolina blue sky, or the Pittsburgh gray sky, we should embrace this noble weatherman who makes February 2nd just a little more fun.
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