Which Almanac for a Witch?

Call me old-fashioned, but I still turn to the Almanac that my grandparents used for their farm in Corbin, Kentucky. 

Not because I think it's better than, say... The Witch's Almanac, or the Sabbats Alamanac.

Mostly - it's tradition. There is something comforting to me to see the pale yellow almanac on the table. I remember again the thousand times I walked into the kitchen on any morning to find that pale, yellow book cradled in one of my grandfather's work-roughened hands, while the other hand raised a coffee cup to his lips. His plate of food in front of him would stay untouched, and likely be cold before he was finished with the Almanac. I now know that my grandfather had what would be called today a learning disability. Even as a child I knew something wasn't right - he would read and re-read the same pages of the Almanac over and over - day after day. He read well, but I understand now that digesting and absorbing information from what he read was difficult for him.

Please - don't think he was an unintelligent man. He was a successful farmer (no small feat!) and kept 331 acres in Laurel County. He raised polled Herefords for beef on about 80 acres. Anywhere from 80-120 acres was set aside for crops. (Depending on what crops he was rotating that year, so some of the land wasn't used at all some years)

Farming, and making a living from farming is a delicate and complex dance. You can't miss a move. You can't be one day late on anything - whether it be planting or harvesting. And it was just him and my grandmother doing virtually everything. My father would spend every weekend on the farm from planting to harvest. We lived just north of Cincinnati, so it was about a 3 and a half hour drive each way. But, my father would get off work on Friday afternoon, we'd drive straight down to Corbin, and all of the family would spend the weekend working. Monday morning we would all be back on the road between 2:00 and 2:30 am - home just in time for school and work. As soon as school let out, most of the family would stay on the farm while my father made that trek weekly by himself. It never seemed hard to me as a kid. It was our cycle.

The truth is - I hated going back home to Ohio. I begged to stay on the farm. I didn't mind the work, because it never seemed like work to me. (And, don't think just because we were kids we didn't work. If you believe that, you've never been on a real, working, family farm. Kids work every bit as physically as adults)

I may have already lost you by this point. That's ok - I understand. Reminiscing is only fun for the person doing it. But, for me, it isn't just reminiscing. It comes full circle for me when I think about the Sabbats, the watching of the moon, consulting Almanacs and welcoming each season as The Wheel turns once more.

It's what I've been doing in one way or another for as long as I can remember. Down to my grandfather digging a hole and burying the first several ears of corn harvested, and saying a prayer over the buried corn, thanking God for a good harvest.

Nothing can put you in tune more with the changing of the seasons, or being thankful for the blessings of the land quite like farming. You watch the sky daily, note every change in the weather, every turn of the leaf. Your livelihood depends on it. Much as it did for people thousands of years ago.

I still buy that pale yellow Almanac, every year. I do buy the wonderful new Almanacs from Llewellyn from time to time as well - but they don't hold the simple allure of that pale yellow beauty. At least, not for me.