Bob Wooten: Phil and portents of doom

The moment of betrayal is upon us. Look for it on Thursday.

That's when the mild winter weather we've enjoyed may well come to a end, when a furry little monster named Phil in Punxsutawney, Pa., emerges from his burrow and once again claims to see his shadow.

Forget about this milquetoast January. No more high temperatures in the 50s. No more wispy little snow squalls.

Prepare for freezing rain, sleet, the dreaded wintry mix and maybe even a real snowstorm. One morning we may wake up and find a foot of white terror has fallen from the sky.

Thursday, in case it has escaped your attention, is Feb. 2, commonly known as Groundhog Day. It is roughly the mid-point of winter, 44 days in with 46 to go, including the extra day on Feb. 29 for leap year.

Weather, however, is a little bit like football in that the second half of the game may look nothing like the first.

We've seen very little offense during winter's first half, but I fear the groundhog will be throwing for the end zone at daybreak on Thursday.

As tradition has it, when the beast is drawn forth from his cozy home he will determine the course of the remainder of the season.

If it's cloudy, Phil (or any other member of Marmota monax pressed into service for these goofy exercises) will assume that all is safe to emerge and enjoy an early spring. If the sun is out and the critter sees its shadow, though, it will be scared back into its lair for another six weeks, during which we'll be pummeled by a lingering winter.

A major flaw in this theory is that Phil will be surrounded by the carnival that assembles every Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney to watch him render his judgment. Strange men wearing top hats will hoist Phil into the air and recite some doggerel about woodchucks and the weather. Meanwhile, camera crews will blast him with hot lights while half-soused spectators whoop it up in the morning chill.

I actually feel a little sorry for Phil. I can't stand much commotion before I've had my first cup of coffee in the morning, so I can only imagine how often that little rodent retreats into his hole because the crowd has terrified him. Seeing his own shadow is probably the least of his worries.

I hope I'm wrong because I've enjoyed these balmy days. Friday felt like late March instead of the worn-out end of January. Unfortunately, February often packs a powerful wallop here in the Northern Shenandoah Valley.

Remember "Snowmageddon" back in 2010? More than 2 feet of snow blanketed the region, and life ground to a halt. That was in February.

Remember the infamous Presidents Day storm of 2003? The 36 inches of snow came down in a very short period of time, paralyzing the area for days. That was in February.

Phil, as it turns out, saw his shadow in both 2003 and 2010. No doubt, he looked over his shoulder and winked at the Groundhog Day crowd on both occasions, and then returned to his long winter's nap.

• Bob Wooten is the managing editor of the Daily. Contact him at 800-296-5137 or at bwooten@nvdaily.com.