A Groundhog Day Memory: Springtime on Repeat

By Patrick O’Connor
(Part of a work in progress titled “You Can’t Make This Stuff Up; The Charmed Life of a Boomer.” We will periodically publish these special features around holidays and seasonal events.)

Groundhog Day is almost here. It has been a big celebration in this part of the U.S. since 1887. Each February 2, people turn their attention to this big rodent to see if they can get a sense for what the weather will be like in the next six weeks. It’s part of our “prediction culture,” which is so prevalent in this country. We seem obsessed with trying to predict outcomes of everything from sporting events, to the stock market, to elections, to the weather.

Punxsutawney, PA is the center of everything groundhog and home to Punxsutawney Phil, who is the weather prognosticator. When he exits his hole at sunup, hundreds watch to see if he will see his shadow. This is an indication of what the next six weeks of weather will be like in the Northeast and Midwest. No shadow means six more weeks of winter.  A shadow means an early spring. Or maybe it’s the other way around. I have a hard time remembering which is which. This is pretty much a regional thing. For example, if you live in San Diego, CA, the notion of an early spring or extended winter would seem to make little sense.

Groundhog Day 2020 was unlike any other. The winter of 2020 in this part of the country was almost nonexistent. In Northeast Ohio, we gauge the severity of the winter by the number of times we use our snow shovels and snow throwers. This particular winter, I used each one only once and that was a bit of a stretch. That’s unheard of in our area. The winter 2020 was so mild, I thought I might put my snow shovel out on the street with a “free to good home” sign on it. I wonder what the groundhog was thinking when he came from his burrow. Since there had been no winter, could he really predict six more weeks of winter? Or, could he predict an early spring since most of the winter was basically like spring, anyway? Groundhog Day 2020 must have been a puzzler for the groundhog as much as it was for us.

About six weeks after the groundhog timeline expired, we decided to head south to Edisto, SC. We left early one late March morning with the temperature around 40 degrees and the sky grey and overcast. About two hours into the trip, we started to notice some forsythia bushes starting to show small buds. A bit farther down the road, the buds got bigger and we saw full-blown yellow bushes. This was a welcome scene from the barren trees we had been watching for the previous five months. Shortly after that, we started to notice small green leaves peeking on trees followed by beautiful white flowering trees…. dozens of them along the highway. I think they were crabapple trees, which are mostly white, pink or red. Crabapple trees, by the way, are referred to as the “jewels of the landscape.” Works for me.

All the trees became more full and green as we wound our way south til there were no longer any barren trees. We were enjoying the great signs of spring for about seven hours when we started to see redbud trees showing tiny red flowers. We watched for miles as the tiny flowers turned into dozens of redbud trees in full-bloom magenta. It was at about this time I started wondering what we would be seeing next. Before long, we were driving alongside rows of light purple wisteria. We watched these for miles until white and pink dogwood trees were showing their blossoms. We ended our trip with beautiful red and white azaleas in full bloom. We had gone from no foliage to a full flowering spring scene. We watched the transition from winter to spring. The colors went from grey to yellow to green to white to magenta to purple to pink to white again and red. The trip resembled Dorothy going from black and white to color when she entered Munchkin Land. I doubted I would ever see such an amazing transition of nature again.

After some 10 days down South, we decided to return north to Ohio. Azaleas had lost their flowers by now and spring looked pretty normal. As we left, I kept thinking about our ride South and how wonderful it was to see all the foliage. The thought occurred to me that we would now be heading up where much of the spring might be happening again. Part of “prediction culture” at work.

I was right, as about four hours into the trip, we started to see redbud trees again in North Carolina. Lots of redbuds! Many more than on the ride down. Shortly after that, we were once again looking at rows of pink and white dogwoods. Then waves of purple wisteria. At one point, the garden spot perhaps, we saw all the trees together with a beautiful goldenrod field in the background. What a scene. It was like our previous ride but even more abundant and brilliant.  I thought the amazing scene would change again as we headed farther north.

As we traveled up the mountains into Virginia, the scene turned grey again as the trees were barren due to cooler temperatures and higher elevation. As we rode along the mountain top, it occurred to me that spring would probably be springing on the downside of the mountain. We might be seeing a third spring! Sure enough, as we descended down the mountains, we started to see redbud trees again for miles and miles. Many more than we had already seen. Both sides of the highway lined with them and some of the mountainsides completely covered in redbud red. Stereo redbuds for a few hundred miles and about three hours. Amazing. A bit later, we started seeing white crabapple trees again and dozens of full-bloom yellow forsythia bushes. This continued into southern Ohio, where the foliage started fading and we were seeing barren trees again.

We arrived in Ohio to freshly bloomed tulips and daffodils along with buds on lilac bushes. Some of the trees were also just starting to bud. It was still a bit barren but less than when we had left. Hardly as colorful as our ride down and back. Now I was thinking about what would be coming next. There’s a good chance we will be in for a fourth spring. I doubt even Punxsutawney Phil could have predicted that!

It was truly an amazing ride in both directions. Maybe a bit like riding through a big wide rainbow for 11 hours each way. Or maybe spinning around in a color wheel. I doubt there will ever be another ride quite like that one.

Epilogue
Spring did arrive in Northeast Ohio, as I predicted. A week or so after we returned, beautiful flowering trees of all varieties were in bloom along with abundant bushes and flowers, which all made for a brilliant scene. However, as often happens in this area, mid-April also brought a small snowstorm. Very strange, though still beautiful, to see so many flowers and flowering trees covered with two inches of snow. The snow melted away in about 24 hours and once again, it was spring. And lilacs, dogwoods and redbuds were still about two weeks away. The spring of 2020 just kept coming around the corner.