It was raining.

My wife told me it would rain.

Her smartphone had told her.

Cellphones can’t keep secrets.

My bride showed me weather maps on her phone. They popped up between cute cat photos. The maps were colorful. I didn’t know what the colors meant. That wasn’t covered in our boxes of colors (crayons) in grade school. Not even during the jump from a box of 16 to one containing 24 crayons. I prefer to use my smartphone for finding answers to important questions such as, “Is it OK for a squirrel to eat marshmallows and gravy?”

Talk of the weather activates the brain more efficiently than caffeine. It loosens the tongue. It’s a conversation starter.

How would I be able to tell if it were going to rain if I were somewhere where there was no cellphone signal? There are clues.

I believe there is always a 50-50 chance of rain. Either it will rain or it won’t.

Attempting to predict the weather might be a sign of insanity. It’s like herding cats. Forecasting the weather is like lending your car to a teenager. Not much good can come of it.

You can’t read rain’s mind, but it’ll likely rain when fish swim near the surface, tree frogs cry, the sun is red in the morning, flies are sticky and/or smoke goes to the ground.

Birds flying low, expect a rain and a blow. Birds flying high, the weather will be dry. Birds flying near the ground, soon you’ll hear thunder’s sound.

If swallows circle and call, they speak of rain.

Swallows fly high, clear blue sky. Swallows fly low, rain we will know. Swallows also fly low if you’re mowing the lawn. Swallows worship Toro, Lawn Boy, John Deere, etc. The mowers chase up flying grub for the birds to grab.

If you see a robin entering a barn, expect a heavy downpour.

If a rooster crows at night, there will be rain by morning.

If a rain crow calls, it is calling for rain. If a rain crow hollers, it will rain that day. A yellow-billed cuckoo has a croaking call often given in response to loud noises. A tendency to call at the sound of thunder led to their colloquial names, the “rain crow” and less often heard, the “storm crow.” These cuckoos make a distinctive sound, a hollow-sounding ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-kow-kow-kowlp-kowlp-kowlp-kowlp. This call is quite slow, getting slower near the end. Some people say that it sounds like a metal doorknocker hitting a strike plate.

If a dove coos before sunup, it will rain within three days.

If the peacock screams, rain follows.

When robins sing on the ground, you may expect rain.

Closed ant holes indicate rain.

Numerous spider webs presage rain.

Flying cobwebs are a sign of rain.

When earthworms appear in large numbers on the ground, you may expect rain.

When clovers fold their leaves, you may expect rain.

Dandelions close their blossoms before a storm.

When leaves show their undersides, be very sure rain betides. The leaves of deciduous trees often turn upward before a heavy rain in reaction to a sudden increase in humidity and wind.

Trees jump up and down for joy when rain is coming. OK, I made that one up. Sorry.

Cow or horse tails pointing west, weather is at its best. Tails pointing east, weather is the least.

Expect rain when dogs eat grass.

When cats sneeze, it is a sign of rain.

When the dew is on the grass, rain will never come to pass. When grass is dry at morning light, look for rain before the night.

Fish jump high when a rain is nigh.

If the rooster crows upon going to bed, you may arise with a watery head.

Red sky at morning, sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.

When a halo rings the moon or sun, rain is approaching on the run.

Mosquitoes go on a biting frenzy before a rain.

When the chairs squeak, it’s of rain they speak.

Catchy drawer and sticky door, coming rain will pour and pour.

Chimney smoke descends, our nice weather ends.

A slow rain lasts long.

Rain before seven done by 11.

Three days of rain will empty any sky.

When the sun shines while raining, it will rain at the same time tomorrow.

It might rain. It might not.

The best thing to do when it rains is to let it rain.

 

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.