Where were you on March 4th fifty years ago when the snow began to fall? I was living in the ground floor flat of a triplex in downtown Montreal, just off Atwater Street, below the Children’s Hospital. It was a wonderful, late 19th or very early 20th century building with 10’ ceilings and tall windows. And by the time the snow stopped, I could no longer see the postage stamp-sized backyard from my bedroom. The snow was that high. I gather from skimming through the March 11, 1971 issue of the Glengarry News, that the region that would become my home nine years later fared no better. The front-page headline, in bold upper-case type as large as I have ever seen in the News, read: “Still Recovering From Storm.”
With the benefit of hindsight, I was able to spot another perfect example of the Yiddish proverb “Der mentsh trakht un Got lakht” or “Man plans and God laughs.” In the prior week’s edition of the News, dated March 4th, 1971, a different front-page article on the fluffy white stuff talked about how Alexandria’s snow removal budget for the year was all tapped out. The town council reported they’d spent in excess of $30,00 by that point (compared to $17,000 for the previous winter) and the councillors “decided to let the sun take over.” Unless there was another storm and the town’s elected representatives were forced to bring out the heavy equipment again, their plan was to “limit expenditure only to what needs doing.” And God said “Gotcha!” and dumped almost 50 centimeters or 20 inches of snow across Eastern Ontario… on top of what had accumulated before.
While it was unlikely, I checked to see if Dunvegan had been spared the white deluge. I found no written report in the News. However, I did come across some anecdotal evidence of this memorable storm. Evidence which, in the wondrous synchronicity of life, meshed with a plastic bag of newspaper clippings that a loyal reader lent me a couple of weeks ago. Her mother had collected press snippets over the years that dealt with Dunvegan, and her daughter thought (correctly) that I might like to see them. One article was from the Standard-Freeholder. Dated Tuesday October 7th, 1969, the story dealt with the MacCrimmon W.I. meeting at the “Glengarry Scottish Museum” in Dunvegan. Accompanying the story was a photo of Miss Flora Anne MacGillivray and Mrs. Albert LaSalle standing beside the bell that the W.I. had donated from the old MacCrimmon Hall. What caught my eye in the photograph was the house in the background. It was framed by a magnificent white picket fence. There is no trace of the fence today, and I thought at first the dwelling might have been Tootsie McRae’s old house. However, Robert Campbell quickly set me straight. The building in the photograph was his. He told me the fence of his childhood had run along the south side of the property by the roadside and then went north along the line between the Campbell’s home and its neighbour to the west.
I emailed Robert’s sister Gwen to ask what, if anything, she remembered of the fence. She replied that it was likely built by her grandfather, who was a carpenter. He also built the house and shed. She remembers that her mother, Hilda Campbell, had flowerbeds along both sides of the picket fence, with lots of blue delphiniums. She shared another memory with me, as well. “…when it was a significant snowy winter… only the tops of the fence pickets would be showing.” Robert recalls this as well and is trying to lay his hands on a family photo showing the top of the fence buried in snow. I’m guessing the shot was taken on or around the Storm of the Century, March 4th, 1971.
Many mists in March
While you may be reading this on the third of March or later, I penned it on the first day of the month. As I did, Terry broke in with news of winter snow squalls this afternoon, high winds and low temperatures. Naturally this breaking news brought to mind the adage: “In like a lion, out like a lamb.” I first wondered about its accuracy as a predictor of the month’s weather. It does have an inherent logic, as March straddles the Winter/Spring divide. But we’ll have to wait and see. I was more intrigued by the origin of the proverb, so I had a quick peek. I discovered that, unlike today’s far more complex weather issues, there appears to be little consensus as to from whence the simple saying sprung.
George Stimpson (1896–1952), arguably the father of the “useless facts” book genre, claimed it first popped up in print in a 1624 play by John Fletcher: A Wife for a Month. One character says, “I would choose March, for I would come in like a lion,” and another replies, “Hut you’d go out like a lamb.” Sadie Stein, on the other hand, in a 2015 article for the Paris Review claims that Wikipedia calls it “an old Pennsylvania saw,” although I have yet to find this Wikipedia reference. Stein goes on to say that one of the earliest citations appears in a 1732 compendium collected by Thomas Fuller M.D. entitled Gnomologia: Adagies and Proverbs; Wise Sentences and Witty Sayings, Ancient and Modern, Foreign and British. Fuller records the saying as “Comes in like a Lion, goes out like a Lamb.” He also quotes a number of other March proverbs, ones that haven’t stood the test of time nearly as well. For example, “So many mists in March you see, so many frosts in May will be.” So with your help, I propose we test out these two. If someone volunteers to record March mists and May frosts, I’ll put up a finger to the wind at the end of the month.
Virtual church bells
I could have rewritten interim moderator Rev. James Ferrier’s words, but doubt I would have been able to add any extra value. So here’s the very latest in the way of church news for members of the Kenyon Presbyterian Church in Dunvegan, lifted verbatim from Rev. James Ferrier’s email:
“The on-line worship services for the Dunvegan and Kirk Hill Pastoral Charge will be continuing for the month of March. Although the numbers of infections are trending downward – and we hope the trend continues – the Sessions of both congregations are in favour of keeping with the on-line format for this month. As has been the case for the last couple of weeks, the services have been held in St. Columba Church in Kirk Hill. This will continue for a further couple of Sundays, and then return to Kenyon Church in Dunvegan. In the meantime, from our Pastoral Charge to everyone, our prayers are for the health, wellness, and safety of everyone.”
The 30-minute services on YouTube can be accessed via the links on Facebook @kenyondunvegan and the Home page of kenyondunvegan.ca.
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