Yes, tomorrow is Groundhog Day, a day not forgotten by this Pennsylvanian, where the fine people of Punxsutawney await a groundhog named Phil to come out and see or not see his shadow. Shadow? He runs back in his hole at Gobbler’s Knob for six more weeks of winter. No shadow? Spring is in the air.
A lot of hoo haw for an oversized rodent, if you ask me. At least it put a little town in the sticks on the map, if only for a day a year. The town’s name comes from a Delaware Indian term which means “town of the sandflies.” I suppose having Groundhog Day there every year overshadows this not so inviting name.
According to the StormFax Weather Almanac and records kept since 1887, Phil’s predictions have been correct just 39% of the time. The folks at AccuWeather have no competition. But given all that satellite technology, who knows what that rat could come up with?
I got to thinking today, as I do sometimes, about burgers. In America, it’s a hamburger yet it’s 100% beef. Here in Jordan, when ordering a burger, I have to remind myself to say beef burger. My mind wanders to the word groundhog. Why don’t they call ground pork groundhog? PETA wouldn’t like my joke very much, and I am not sure if you could consider that halal humor.
Groundhog is just another name for woodchuck, so I will leave you with one more thought to ponder:
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?