Copyright The Boston Globe
The almanac actually started in New Jersey by David Young, a school teacher and poet. I like to think about the idea that he just wanted to educate — and educate this almanac did. For over two centuries, it had all sorts of fun facts and folklore. The original title was “The New York Farmer’s Almanac for the year of our Lord 1818...containing lunations, conjunctions, eclipses, judgment of the weather, rising and setting of the planets, length of days and nights...,” together with “useful tides, entertaining remarks, and information to farmers.” One of its proverbs is reported to be “when the oak leaf is as big as the mouse’s ear, then so barley never fear.” It was actually my eighth-grade science teacher, Mr. Chambers, who told me not to plant my tomatoes until the “oak leaves were as big as a mouse’s ear,” and I now wonder if that tidbit of information had its origins back in this publication. This small paperback with a plethora of information ranging from the best time to plant a garden to when to fish and, of course, that year-long weather forecast, has been a staple for many New Englanders for decades. That weather forecast, in particular, was a well-kept secret. Reportedly, the seasonal forecast used planetary positions, sunspot activity, ocean conditions, and other information to make its forecast. The reliability of the forecast, while questionable, was still the cornerstone of each year’s publication. And most readers looked forward to it. Another mainstay of the Farmers’ Almanac was its “best days” list. You could find the best days for everything, from going fishing to cutting your hair to even quitting smoking. In case you’re wondering, in the past, the dates of Nov. 15 and 16 were considered good days to get married or to host a party. Today, there are thousands of TikTok videos with little so-called “life hacks,” but before the internet age, the Almanac was publishing countless ideas and helpful tidbits, such as using vinegar and baking soda for cleaning (which still works really well), storing steel wool scrubbing pads in the freezer to stop them from rusting, and keeping your broom with the bristles upright to have it last longer. There’s also that familiar hole in the upper left corner of the almanac; it appeared in the 1800s to make it easier for the almanac to be hung on a nail or by a string, perhaps in an outhouse for reading material in dim light. In 1955, the publication found itself relocated to Maine, with the Geiger family carrying on the tradition for seven more decades, with almanac after almanac rolling off the presses, and that little hole in the corner would remain. My friend Todd Gutner, chief meteorologist at News Center Maine and formerly at WBZ, I think summed up the almanac nicely: “It’s sad, it’s a unique part of New England. It’s part of our fabric.” Family heirloom quilts are made of fabric and passed down for generations. For decades, the Farmers’ Almanac guided outdoor activities from fishing to planting, reminding its readers of the rhythms of nature at a time when those were much more closely followed. And long before weather balloons and models and computers, a small paperback gave readers hope or fear of an inevitable winter ahead. Like that changing weather, nothing lasts forever, and after more than 200 years, the Farmers’ Almanac’s time has come to an end — but the lore will live on.
