This is the time of the year when the woolly bear caterpillar supposedly reveals what sort of winter we are going to have. I’m not sure how much faith I place in such folklore – this smells vaguely of that groundhog nonsense where no one can make heads or tails of anything other than in February there will always be several more weeks of winter, the specific duration of which is going to be whatever it’s going to be, and there’s no creature on earth that’s going to predict or change that.
As for the particulars of how one tells what sort of winter this fuzzy little thing is predicting, go google that shit. I’m not your show-shaman. And what good will coming of knowing whether the winter is going to be mild or harsh? It’s going to be winter and it’s going to suck. Boom – there’s your woolly wisdom, and the folly in trying to tell the future.
(Of course, if you are a soothsayer who can read such fortune in the bands of a caterpillar, by all means shoot me some advance warning. It’s nice to be prepared, even if one doesn’t entirely believe such nonsense. We hedge our bets here.)
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