Today’s guest post was written by Jim Casada.
OH, APRIL
Spring comes to the Smokies in starts and spurts, stumbling and stuttering along as it tries to find the right beat. A spell of balmy days with afternoon temperatures rising into the 70s is suddenly replaced by weather belonging to the depths of winter. Frost is a distinct possibility and late snows aren’t out of the question. As was so often the case, that sweet swan of Avon, William Shakespeare, got it just as right for the Smokies as for the sceptered isles of Britain when he wrote of “the uncertain glory of an April day.”
The frost-free date, even at lower elevations, doesn’t come until month’s end and there’s always the possibility of a killing frost through April and even into the beginning of May. Old timers in the mountains recognized the vagaries of spring weather and had highly descriptive terms connected with them. The ones with which I am most familiar and have heard most often throughout my life all were linked to winter—Catbird Winter, Dogwood Winter, and Blackberry Winter.
All these terms come from first-rate observational skills of those who went before us. Thanks to the dramatically different lifestyles of our forebears, weather figured far more prominently in yesteryear’s life in the high country than it does today. Folks lived in close harmony with the land and depended on it for their existence. Accordingly, the ability to read signs, recognize weather patterns, and move in rhythm with the good earth was vital to their existence.
All of the descriptions of winter mentioned above actually refer to a spell of cold after the time of greening up was already well under way. According to Grandpa Joe, who had a real knack for predicting the weather by reading signs, observing cloud patterns, and watching the behavior of animals, Catbird Winter was associated with the first springtime appearance of the fussy, interesting, and highly vocal grey bird whose call sounds like the mewing of a cat, hence its name. After migrating to the Deep South or beyond in the winter, catbirds return to the mountains for the mating season in the April. Whenever Grandpa sighted the first one he would comment: “Look for a cold spell in the next week or so, because now that the catbirds are here we are in for Catbird Winter.”
In truth, Catbird Winter always seemed to me to coincide quite closely with Dogwood Winter, since the migrants normally arrived about the time dogwoods were in full flower. Grandpa, however, would have none of that, insisting that there were two distinct cold snaps. Whatever the case, there’s no arguing that pretty predictably, year after year, there will be some chilly weather, often accompanied by a light frost (and sometimes a heavy one), when dogwood blooms are at their peak.
Blackberry Winter is the most frequently mentioned of the three springtime periods of cold as well as being the latest. Often it seems that winter has its final fling, a last chilly goodbye before the full magic of May spreads its warm and soothing blanket atop the high country and blackberries reach the stage where their blooms begin to show white. I know that Grandpa always felt comfortable in setting out tomatoes and other plants susceptible to frost once blackberries had bloomed in association with two or three days of cold. “I’ve known it to frost once or twice in my life after Blackberry Winter,” he would say, “but a body can feel pretty comfortable with tender stuff once it has come and gone.”
There’s even an old song with the words “Go away, go away Blackberry Winter” in the chorus. It will take someone with a better memory or more musical knowledge than yours truly to pin it down, but I know that the song dates back at least to the 1950s. Of course I always thought the line should have been “Blow away, blow away Blackberry Winter,” because invariably that final chilly snap of spring seems to be associated with strong winds accompanying a cold front.
There are other colloquial terms for periods of unseasonable cold in the spring, including Locust Winter and Redbud Winter. All seem peculiar to the South and particularly to the Appalachians, but other sections of the country have delightful descriptions as well. Perhaps my favorite, one I’ve heard several times over the years while turkey hunting in Missouri or Iowa, is “Long Handles Winter.” That’s a term folks there use to suggest that once that cold spell has passed, it is time to put the trusty old union suit away until it is once more needed in late fall.
Like so many other aspects of traditional mountain culture, these special aspects of spring seem increasingly to belong to a world we have lost. As we become more urbanized, depend on television meteorologists rather than personal observations for our weather predictions, and do far less gardening and farming, our sense of connection with the earth’s seasonal rhythms lessens. To me, that’s sad, and maybe that why Grandpa Joe, who never drove a car and who viewed any and all things modern with skepticism, was often given to comments such as “I don’t hold much with this here progress folks are always talking about.”
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*When April features a constant chill,
Come October the barn we’ll fill.
*A moist April means a clear June.
—Jim Casada – A Smoky Mountain Boyhood: Musings, Memories, and More
I hope you enjoyed Jim’s thoughts on April as much as I do. You can pick up Jim’s wonderful book A Smoky Mountain Boyhood: Musings, Memories, and More on his website here (scroll down page for book).
Last night’s video: Matt Builds Shelving for Corie & Austin’s Closet.
Tipper
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Your “Blackberry winter” got me thinking about the “Sheep’s cold” The natives of the Swabian Alb in Germany talked about, and I experienced when I lived there. It could happen as late as the middle of June, in theory right after they would shear the sheep. I couldn’t safely set out my tomato plants until AFTER that, though I did try many times to cover them through it so that they could be out there when the warm weather came in the middle of May. I always thought… “For goodness sake, why don’t they just shear those sheep in April or something and get it over with!” …There were also “Ice Saint Days” I never really got my head around them… they just seemed to cause alot of cold for us gardeners, sneaking up on us the way they did.
I am happy now to be in the middle of Iowa, where the soil is dark and rich, with my transplanted German husband. We both enjoy watching your family escapades, projects, as we are just a bit older than you, and are busy with renovations, and gardening. I enjoy your quilt readings, too! Hey, anytime you want you are welcome to come and I will teach you to quilt. Easier than sewing on a button! I promise!
Thanks, Jim for another great read; am familiar with “Dogwood and Blackberry Winter” terminology for spring cold spells in our area of Eastern Kentucky. A “Catbird Winter” was new to me; but certainly understandable. Our third reference term often used was “Redbud Winter” – seemed appropriate as the holler’s always were dotted with plenty of our colorful redbud’s. Thanks for sharing your thoughts for the readership.
In early March of just this year, while sitting in breezeless sunshine behind humble abode, I heard the endless chortle of a catbird and included in his repertoire was the ringing of an old rotary dial telephone. Where could he have heard that?
I enjoyed Jim’s description of the different winters. It made me think about what people said when I was growing up in the eastern part of NC. There would always be what they called “an Easter Snap”, meaning a few days of cooler weather around Easter. It didn’t seem to matter when Easter occured, any time between late March and the end of April.
Yes, Mr Jim, if one “fools with” plants and/or animals and depends on them to eat – they will of necessity get in partnership with their local “ecology”; land+air+water+veg+wildlife and by that get a strong sense of belonging and ” home”. All of that is priceless.
Enjoyed reading Jim’s post today. Here in the Tennessee valley we’ve had lots of rain and the dogwood trees are in full bloom. Yesterday I drove past a house with a yard full of pink and white dogwoods. Such a lovely sight.
I hope Matt can get help with all the yards he has to mow! He’s doing an amazing job on Corie’s kitchen!
Blessings to all.
About catbirds…maybe I have one of the last ones to leave Florida for spring nesting in more northerly climes. It was at my feeder yesterday.
Speaking of a single light with a pull cord, I remember such a light in my grandparents bedroom. It had a pull cord from the bed to the hanging pull cord so that the light could be turned off once they were in bed. Made sense to me.
The oldtimers had to rely on weather folklore as they had so much to lose if they didn’t get it right when planting crops. In recent years I have lost my entire green bean crop due to weather-related issues or planting them during the wrong signs. I asked my sister what Mom or Mammy would have done if that happened to their crop. I wish I had listened more closely to their weather predictions that was more accurate than any modern-day forecast.
I always enjoy reading Jim’s posts, as it takes me back to my childhood standing on a porch beside my Granddaddy listening to him tell me about the clouds that were gathering; and following in the footsteps of my Daddy listening to him talk about the trees in the forest and the squirrels and all the little creatures that lived there.
Matt is doing a beautiful job on Austin and Corrie’s closet and their kitchen counter top. He is a big blessing to them and really they are a blessing to him too! It was warm yesterday here in SC PA and I mowed about 2 acres so I guess the grass or weeds have started to grow. It is a little cooler today and looks like rain again coming in tonight, tomorrow and Friday. As I get older, I think I enjoy the temp to be about 65 if I’m working outside:) I used to love hot weather, not so much anymore:) Hope you ya all have a wonderful week.
Always interesting to read some of Jim’s writings. Thank you for sharing.
That’s a spot on depiction of Appalachian spring weather! I’d never heard of Catbird winter before, though. I’ll be watching for a Catbird sighting!
My mother’s father, my grandfather, was 62 years old when she was born. He was born in 1867 and died January 1, 1946, when Mom was 16 years old. She is 94 and 1/2 years old and often speaks of grandpa’s experiences he had growing up in the late 1800’s. When he became a young man he worked with lumber, cutting the trees down and loading them on wagons. Horses pulled the wagons out of the forests to the mills. The weather dictated what could be done outdoors and had to come to a halt when it snowed or poured down the rain. The wagons would get bogged down in the mud and depending on how far in the forests they were camp was set up while they waited for the weather to improve. They hunted wildlife and drank from the creeks or rivers nearby. Every spring the floods would come down the mountains washing away bridges, outhouses and sometimes houses. When a bridge washed out Grandpa and his employees would build another one usually in a day. I would have loved to speak with him about old times since I’m a history buff but I wasn’t born until three years after he died.
Tricia, many times we cupped our hands and would drink water out of the creek/branch on our property when I was with my Grandaddy I mentioned in my other comment. Maybe not true, but he thought the water purified itself within a few feet of running over the rocks and sand. All I know is his mule and the neighbors cows all drank out of the same creek and none of us ever got sick because of drinking the water. This was in the 50 and 60’s. I have done this in later years but will no longer do it.
I heard some one say it was Dogwood winter here in Murphy. none of my Dogwoods are even in bud, I haven’t seen any bloom when out and about either. The Redbud trees, however are glorious. I think I love Grandpa Joe. What a character.
Jim’s writing is so soothing to me.
His descriptions of the various winters and the people he has known is so colorful and clean.
That was a lovely post to read this morning. It is going to be a blustery day where I live in WV, with winds around 15 mph all day. I spent most of the day outside yesterday planting more tomato seeds in pots. I noticed the apple trees and our dogwood trees are just loaded with blooms about to pop out. If we don’t get a heavy frost—and if the squirrels leave us alone—we may have lots of apples this year. I have really enjoyed all the videos lately. I can’t wait to see more progress in the house.
I was reading older posts and came across your recipe for baked potato chips. I made them yesterday and they were a hit with hubby and me. Thank you so much. I may never buy potato chips at the store again. Every recipe I try of yours or Granny’s is always delicious. Hope everyone has a wonderful April day!
Where I live, April is usually pleasant, but snow is likely and also a lot or rain. I’ve heard several versions of , “Superior’s coming,” meaning dark skies and wind coming from the north over Lake Superior, and also “Superior’s coming for apples and cherries,” but I’ve never seen Superior storms take out apple or cherry orchards. I live at the northern tip of Lakes Michigan and Huron, and April is usually nice mixed with snow and a lot of rain–hence, our swampy lands and mosquitos the size of Buicks!
Thanks for sharing, Jim does have a way with words. I cannot believe we are this close to the real summer with the mid to upper 80’s and then 90’s and we are questioning how soon will it be fall.
Hugs and love to you all, Prayers for Granny and you guys.
I really like the last paragraph, it makes me think of my Grandaddy Kirby. He did own a car but did not drive it very much, when he needed to go somewhere he would often ask my mother to drive it for him, of course that meant I got to go too, but even then it would be to one of the closest small country towns. The closest one was about 13 miles away. We lived beside of them and as a young boy I spent every minute I could with him and remember him always watching the birds, chickens or other animals. He would often predict the weather for the day or tomorrow by watching them. He was born in 1888 and died in 1971, and never owned a tv, radio or had inside plumbing in his old home supported on field rocks. Each room only had one light bulb hung by a cord from the ceiling and a pull cord to turn the light on.