Joanna here: The other day, we had a bit of a storm -- buckets of rain, impenetrable clouds walking up the hill and past my window, trees lashing back and forth like mad things, a march of roiling black thunderheads over the valley.
This was our taste of Hurricane Arthur, and fairly mild it was when compared to other folks' experience.
It got me to thinking about weather in a historical sorta way. Before Arthur went strolling up the coast, I had a week of weathermen showing me charts and maps and making dire predictions.
If I'd had a herd of sheep I would have moved them to the lower meadow or the upper hill or whatever. I would have made sure the roof of the hen house was tapped down tight and in good repair. I could have gone out to the fields and brought the corn in. (We do Indian corn -- maize -- in this section of the world and it's getting ripe on the southern slopes.) I would have worried about the little baby peaches on the trees -- not that I could do much about them.
But all that last week before the storm the days were warm and sunny. There wasn't any warning in the sky. Without the internet, I would have been taken by surprise.
In all the ages before 'a cold front moving in from the west carrying moisture' and 'polar vortexes' and 'the jet stream shifting eastward' and 'European computer models' there would have been no warning. For my folks in 1800, rich and poor, every day of the growing season was another day disaster might strike.
They didn't have our modern weather shamans, but folks had weather lore and generations of experience and a double handful of superstitions about the weather.
Maybe these worked about as well.
Our Georgian and Regency characters, from the highest to the most humble, would have known all the old jingles and folk sayings.
"Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning."
Shakespear said, "Like a red morn that ever yet betokened, wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto the birds, gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.”
Matthew XVI 2-3: "When in evening, ye say, it will be fair weather: For the sky is red. And in the morning, it will be foul weather today; for the sky is red and lowering.”
Which is just a whole lot of general agreement on this principle.
Now, when I see a brilliant red sunset on the horizon, I figger there's dust flying around in the upper atmosphere. Maybe a volcanic explosion somewhere in the world.
After the 1883 explosion of Krakatoa in Indonesia, the ash caused "such vivid red sunsets that fire engines were called out in New York, Poughkeepsie, and New Haven to quench the apparent conflagration." These blood-red sunsets continued for years.
But I digress.
When our Georgian and Regency people saw these red sunsets or sunrises, they had some reason to guess at the day's weather.
Sunsets and dawns are colorful because at those times light from the sun passes through a lot of atmosphere to get to us and picks up coloring on the way. That's why we don't so much get that 'red sun at noon, expect dragons soon' sorta vibe.
In Europe, weather tends to move from west to east, so red light from the west means we're getting good illumination all that long way from the west. It's clear in that direction. That's nice stability in the weather that's coming.
On the other hand, the same reddish tinge to the east -- according to current meteorological lore -- means lots of moisture and clouds in the atmosphere above the observer and thus the likelihood of rain.
(I keep reading these explanations and they strike me as fairly 'the dog broke the lamp' specious.)
Or, possibly, since the weather moves west to east, maybe red sunrise in the east is telling everybody that the good weather has scuttled past them and off that way and they missed it. Tough luck.
Howsabout,
See a ring around the moon, a storm is sure to follow soon.
Here, meteorologists make the fairly simple and common-sense-ical explanation that the rainbow like ring that sometimes makes a halo around the moon is cause by ice crystals in the high atmosphere. These high altitude clouds are the early edge of a low pressure system moving in.
Logical enough. But yes, I do like the rhyme better than all that "low-pressure system front" guff.
Then there's St. Swithin's day, which is next week, July 15, and part of the reason I'm blogging this today. If St. Swithin's day is dry, the the next forty days will be dry. Contrariwise, if it rains on that day, we got forty days of rain. Google boatbuilding.
There is a whole mass of folk belief that some people can predict the weather. Either they just 'know' or they 'feel it in their bones'. Makes sense to me that changes in air pressure would be felt by the already-sensitive nerves around old wounds, healed bone breaks, and arthritic joints.
And there's lots of lore that says birds can sense a storm on the way and they take shelter. Or cows lie down in the field.
My dog, who is a great lump of a lazy hound most times, can feel thunderstorms coming long before the sky clouds over and the temperature drops and the air gets that crisp taste to it that tells even a human dolt like me that a storm's coming. Mandy -- the dog -- goes searching frantically around the house for someplace safe to hide. Behind the water pump. Under my desk. In the bedroom behind the bed where she cannot possibly fit.
Some lucky commenter will win of choice of any of Joanna Bourne's books.
So. Do you have an animal in your life who can sense bad storms approaching?
Can you predict the weather?
I also have a "lump of a lazy hound" that believes she is small and petite and can fit under furniture which is where she heads when a storm is coming, or fireworks are being set off somewhere, or she just plain hears something she doesn't like. In reality, while good at predicting thunder storms she is an 85 lb great Pyrenees/German shepherd mix that does not fit in small spaces...or my lap.
Posted by: Samantha | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 11:34 AM
I have a friend with a Great Pyrenees. It is HUGE and has the most distinctive voice. He bays like a great deep fog horn.
Lovely gentle dog.
Not, as you say, a lap dog.
And cannot be convinced he is too big to fit next to my chair at the table.
I have not been in their house during a storm. It would be interesting.
Posted by: Joanne Bourne | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 11:45 AM
Joanna, I just loved your description of Hurricane Arthur "storming" past your place I was there. I felt the wind tugging my hair and pine needles prickling my face. I do love wind. It is so energizing. I believe that's because it has so many negative ions, which tend to make people (and animals) energized. On the other hand, storms can be terrifying for dogs.
Re Mandy hiding when a storm is coming: something you might consider using is a ThunderShirt. They're basically a super-stretchy doggy coat. You put it on and snug it up tight with Velcro closures. This calms the dog, like being held tightly by mommy. I used one for my Doberman, who used to fear fireworks, gunshots, thunderclaps, and loud noises. It worked very well for her. Less so for my Boxer. So you may have different results with Mandy. But ThunderShirts are relatively cheap at $40. Here's the link in case you're interested: http://tinyurl.com/cfdnzzs
As far as predicting weather, neither I nor my dogs have that knack. Like you, I rely on the Internet for my weather predictions!
Posted by: Laura | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 12:17 PM
Growing up in Pittsburgh in the 50s a red sky at night meant prosperity because the mill was working full shifts.
Posted by: Artemisia | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 12:21 PM
When it gets really bad, I get into bed with a book and Mandy comes in with me and hides -- no, not under the covers where it would make some sense -- she gets up at the top of the bed and tries to sit on my head. Failing that, she gets under the pillows.
Do wild dogs of the African veldt look for pillows to hide under?
This makes no sense.
I love wind and rain and storm myself.
Posted by: Joanne Bourne | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 01:09 PM
And that's part of history too.
We get far enough away from the past and we see only the hardships. We forget that a long day at the loom meant meat on the table that week. That when the iron mills were working they'd be taking on new hands instead of sending men home without work.
There's a lens we look through to see the past. Nothing is ever simple. Nothing straightforward.
Hard to think of the 1950s as 'history'.
Posted by: Joanne Bourne | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 01:12 PM
My sure indicator of summer weather: if I carry an umbrella under cloudy skies, the sun comes out. If I've forgotten my umbrella, it will rain.
Posted by: Shannon | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 01:47 PM
Car washing. An infallible way to make it rain.
Posted by: Joanne Bourne | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 02:22 PM
And sunglasses, too.
Posted by: Laura | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 03:20 PM
What a great post, Joanna! I particularly like "Red at noon, dragons soon." *G*
We got a great blast of thunder and windstorm yesterday evening. The two tom cats were on the screened porch with us, enjoying the evening, when the first blast of wind pounded in. They were both into the house in an eyeblink. (While I went to the open part of the deck to put the hanging baskets on the deck so they wouldn't go through a window.)
Weather is many things, including a never failing source of conversation. And to our ancestors, it could be life or death much more than is true now.
Posted by: Mary Jo Putney | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 06:02 PM
I used to live in rural Nebraska, where we could always tell when a storm was coming because the cattle all bunched up together. We had some amazing light shows and amazing, but far less entertaining, tornadoes.
I always thought the red sky thing was based on where the clouds are. Red sky at night meant the sky was clear in the west and the lowering sun was making the clouds in the east red, meaning good weather coming up. And vice versa.
Posted by: Rebecca | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 06:17 PM
I have a basset hound, rescued from the Ninth Ward after Hurricane Katrina, name Boudreaux. If he starts walking the floor or trying to crawl his 65 pound self into my lap I know a storm is coming. If there is thunder and lightning he bays and howls until I wrap him in a blanket and surround him with pillows. Yes, he is just a bit spoiled. When my neighbors' cows bed down during the day in the grove of trees that abuts the back of my property I know a storm is coming. And in the winter the earlier they bed down the colder the night will be.
Posted by: Louisa Cornell | Wednesday, July 09, 2014 at 06:30 PM
That top picture is a favourite of mine. :)
I have family in rural Ukraine who still approach farming from an old-fashioned point of view. Many houses don’t have running water let alone access to weather forecasts. Nothing much has changed there for a hundred years, but it seems to work for them…
The last animal in my life was only good at alternately running away and getting fat!
Posted by: Sonya Heaney | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 01:19 AM
We once had a cat who would get all agitated before a thunderstorm. However, as it was usually looking very cloudy by then, I could guess at the weather my self.
My daughter used to have days when she would be all languid and headachy. Discovered that these days corresponded with low barometric pressure and storm.
Big storms are easier to sense than ordinary rainfall. neither the internet nor the newspapers forecast rain with greater than 50% accuracy.
Once when we were on the edge of a tornado, our Collie tried to crawl into my lap. he was bigger than I was.
Tornados and huricanes come in like wet dragons.
Posted by: nancy | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 04:47 AM
We vacationed on the Outer Banks before Arthur and the waves were low, almost boring. I talked to a local who predicted a storm coming. Seems old timers knew when a storm is brewing in the Caribbean, it sucks water from the shore and drops the water level. When the water would go calm, they would get ready for a storm in the next few weeks. Another reason for the saying, the calm before the storm?
Posted by: Elizabeth Seckman | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 06:13 AM
Decades ago I owned a Quaker parrot. One afternoon he flew off my shoulder and tried to flattened himself into the carpet. Within seconds an earthquake hit.
Posted by: Karenmc | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 07:50 AM
Rebecca--
The cattle definitely knew something! Not only was a storm coming, but I'll bet they had no tornado shelter available if things got really bad.
Posted by: Mary Jo Putney | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 09:09 AM
Louisa--
I grew up on a farm, and there's no question that one pays more attention to weather when it's so direct and in the face. Suburbs have weather, too, but it's more--homogenized.
I think Boudreaux totally lucked out. We had a basset when I was a kid, and they're great. Large dogs with short legs that makes their largness less visible.
Posted by: Mary Jo Putney | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 09:12 AM
Sonya--
Maybe if you could have gotten the last animal some meteorological training, it would have proved more satisfactory. *G*
Posted by: Mary Jo Putney | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 09:13 AM
++Tornados and huricanes come in like wet dragons.++
Oooh, I like that!
Posted by: Mary Jo Putney | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 09:15 AM
Elizabeth--
That's really interesting! You may well be right about "the calm before the storm."
Posted by: Mary Jo Putney | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 09:16 AM
Karen--
THere are such things as Quaker parrots? Okay, I googled. Cute guys. I wonder why yours took to the ground rather than the air? Clearly he knew something, though.
Posted by: Mary Jo Putney | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 09:21 AM
If anyone wonders why I'm being unusually chatty, Joanna's computer crashed, so I'm having fun with the comments. Hopefully she'll be up and running again soon.
Posted by: Mary Jo Putney | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 09:23 AM
Not a great predictor of storms but, once they arrive, my dog is under the chair even if she must push me out of the way to reach her haven.
Posted by: Liz | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 11:38 AM
Liz--
In other words, she's really great at confirming that the weather is bad. *G*
Posted by: Mary Jo Putney | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 12:23 PM
I wonder if my brother's old dog can feel the changes of the weather in her bones... She certainly doesn't like to go out in the rain anymore.
Posted by: Minna | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 01:08 PM
The doves around my house move from sitting on wires to flying into the live oak trees. My 3 legged Boxer wants to be attached at the hip - she does not like storms so is more sensitive than her unaware sister. And my lower back hurts a great deal when low pressure is moving in. I generally know when it is arriving and when it is leaving. Since we need rain so very badly, I am torn between the pain and getting rain - rain - rain. Actually I vote for the rain.
Posted by: Annette N | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 01:19 PM
Hi Minna --
The rain where I live now is cool to cold almost all the year. I wouldn't want to go out in it and your brother's dog is just showing good commonsense when she stays safe by the fire.
But I remember when I lived in Nigeria (and it rained EVERY DAY at four o'clock) that my toddler and I would go out and we'd dance and dance in the rain. It was warm as a bath and it came down about as fast as it possibly could without actually being solid water.
Anyway. That was one of the high points of the day.
(We made our own fun, as it were.)
Posted by: Jo Bourne | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 04:39 PM
I'm very lucky in that whatever pain I have in my joints and ... I dunnoh ... all those moving bits inside the skin ... anyhow, all that. It doesn't hurt especially more when we're in for a blow.
If I have to be in the damp cold for a long time, it does.
But it is no good at predicting weather changes.
For so many reasons, I would not be the wise old woman in the Tudor village everybody asked about the weather. I'm very solid on verb-subject agreement, but that comes up less often than you would think in general conversation.
I hear you on the phrase 'joined at the hip' in reference to the dog. Yes. Exactly.
Posted by: Jo Bourne | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 04:44 PM
I've got 2 great bad weather predictors at my home: my dog and my arthritis. My golden retriever hates any loud noise so when he senses a storm coming, he gets antsy and is stuck to my side when I'm home. If I know it's going to be a really bad storm I will give him some calming treats to take the edge off. I know people who use Thundershirts as well as calming treats for their fur babies.
I'm also one of the lucky ones who have the extra stiffness and pain in those arthritic joints before a major change in weather. As a side note, I discovered this winter that taking fish oil really does help arthritis -- at least for me. My weather predicting joints didn't act up nearly as often. Who woulda guessed....
Posted by: Glenda | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 05:38 PM
My dog, Copper and I live in Baton Rouge, LA. Thunderstorms, tornados, and hurricanes are the norm here. I can't get over how petrified Copper gets during these cries of Mother Nature! She will sit her bottom on my feet when she can. If I am not home, OMG! I usually find her burrowed under my covers at the foot of my bed!!
Posted by: Sheila C | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 09:32 PM
No dogs here. But my head can always tell when a storm is a coming.
Posted by: lilmissmolly | Thursday, July 10, 2014 at 09:58 PM
You would have been the woman next to the fire in pub saying, "Ayup. Bad weather's movin' in. I can feel it in me joints."
And up and down the bar folks would be nodding. "Yep. Glenda knows." And they'd drink up and head off to pen the sheep under cover.
Posted by: Joanne Bourne | Friday, July 11, 2014 at 12:26 PM
I think the animals hear all these noises and notice the vibrations even more than we do. And think how many humans are afraid of storms ...
Posted by: Joanne Bourne | Friday, July 11, 2014 at 12:27 PM
Maybe it comes from the cranial sinuses.
We have sinuses -- hollow places inside our skulls -- so the whole thing won't be too heavy to lift. I think the air moves in and out of these and equalizes slowly, so when the pressure changes around us we feel it as our skulls slowly expanding or contracting from within.
ouch.
Posted by: Joanne Bourne | Friday, July 11, 2014 at 12:33 PM
As I live in Europe, my only way to predict the weather is looking towards the West, b/c as you've said, the weather comes from that point.
Apart from that, there are certain rules about the wind, depending where it blows from, there will be one weather or another: rain if it blows from the West, sunny days if it blows from the South. But that is related to the place where I live, on the Northern coast of the Iberian peninsula, with mountains in the South.
BTW - thank you for putting a Caspar David Friedrich picture. I love that painter, as I've already said here.
Regency times were part of the end of the Little Ice Age. So when I read about muslin dresses I think all this poor Regency girls are goind to catch a pneumonia. Or the Engliswomen from those times were very strong.
Just a curiosity - How do you writers manage to know how the weather was one year or another?
Posted by: Bona | Saturday, July 12, 2014 at 06:26 AM
They must have been very sturdy girls indeed in the Regency, though they apparently wore a good many petticoats underneath.
Now, as to the weather -- I can't speak for everybody.
When I was writing Forbidden Rose I did a lot of delving into the weather. FR takes place in Paris in early July 1792 when Robespierre fell. It's well known and significant weather and folks speculate that events might have gone differently if it had not rained at particular moments.
But mostly I just decree what the weather will be in a particular scene and move on to worrying about something else. I don't tie the story down to n set of dates so it makes decreeing what the weather should be fairly easy, since any odd week is likely to have any weather you could come up with, short of typhoons and earthquakes.
Posted by: Joanne Bourne | Saturday, July 12, 2014 at 07:28 AM
When I grew up in California. there was a type of weather known as "Earthquake Weather." When it was overcast, but it did not rain and the weather was hot and humid (not a common weather pattern at all, in the bay area) old timers would start to get nervous and make references to Earthquake Weather. People would watch their pets intently for signs of the approaching tremor.
Posted by: Evelyn Alexie | Saturday, July 12, 2014 at 10:18 PM
Man, there is so much folklore about animals predicting earthquakes.
Snakes come out. Or snakes hide. Birds fly. Birds dive in the water. Birds dance the conga.
On the other hand, the last time I was in an earthquake, from the dog ... nothing. From the cat ... nothing.
Posted by: Joanne Bourne | Sunday, July 13, 2014 at 05:05 PM
Jo, loved your post and your rhyme. When I was researching ship's cat for my seafaring romance Wind Raven, I learned that sailors believed that cats had an influence on the weather. Some believed these cats could start storms through magic stored in their tails. If a ship's cat fell or was thrown overboard, it was thought that it would summon a terrible storm to sink the ship and that if the ship was able to survive, it would be cursed with nine years of bad luck. Other beliefs included: if a cat licked its fur against the grain, it meant a hailstorm was coming; if it sneezed it meant rain; and if it was frisky it meant wind. Amazingly, some of these beliefs are rooted in reality. Cats are able to detect slight changes in the weather as a result of their very sensitive inner ears, the same characteristic that allows them to land upright when falling. Low atmospheric pressure, a common precursor of stormy weather, often makes cats nervous and restless. Who knew?
Regan
Posted by: Regan Walker | Wednesday, July 16, 2014 at 10:15 AM
Hi Regan,
Now that is absolutely fascinating. I knew ships had cats, but I didn't know they could affect the weather.
I like the superstition about bad luck if cats fell overboard. A good protection for them.
My own cat cannot be convinced to stay off the railing of the porch and spends much of her time risking injury or death if she falls. I knda suspect ships' cats were the same. I can see the sailors trying to lure her off the railing with offerings of fish ...
Posted by: Joanne Bourne | Wednesday, July 16, 2014 at 05:07 PM