Monday morning at sunrise, Punxsutawney Phil will emerge from his burrow and, if he sees his shadow, North America is supposedly in for six more weeks of winter.
There may be no groundhogs on the island of Newfoundland, but Newfoundlanders and Labradorians once had their own local traditions associated with Feb. 2.
The date is the Christian Feast of the Presentation of the Lord, which commemorates the day Mary and Joseph brought their infant son Jesus to be presented at the temple in Jerusalem in accordance with Jewish custom.
In the Middle Ages and early modern period, the feast was more commonly known as Candlemas. Priests would bless their church’s annual supply of candles as a symbol of the light they believed Jesus had brought to the world. Candles would be passed out amongst the parishioners for a candlelit hymn or procession.
These consecrated candles were then taken home for protection and good luck. Women would use the candles to bless their children and their homes, allowing drops of sacred wax to fall on each child’s cap, on work clothing, and even on household appliances. The custom survives to this day in parts of St. Mary’s Bay.
Fishermen would also take a blessed candle to sea, to be lit during gales and storms to safeguard their boats. In Fogo and the Bay of Islands, fine weather on Candlemas Day actually predicted a fine fishery over the coming summer.
Candlemas was such an important occasion in the 19th and early 20th centuries that it was a statutory holiday in the Dominion of Newfoundland. Businesses would close, and even servants would take the day off.
The cake community baked
There were secular festivities, too. Falling halfway between the winter solstice and spring equinox, Candlemas was an opportunity to toast the mid-point of winter and look forward to the arrival of spring.
Even as new candles were prepared for the coming year, winter candles began to be put away. Although daylight had been slowly returning since Dec. 21, Candlemas was considered the true turn of the season, when late afternoon chores and activities could once again be done by the light of the sun.
Residents of the Avalon Peninsula even had a rhyme about it that was likely imported from southeastern Ireland:
Candles and candlesticks put you away,
And eat your supper by the light of the day.
Newfoundlanders and Labradorians shook off their winter blues and celebrated the return of sunlight with parties, parades, and dances. These soirees were sometimes called Candlemas Cakes after the tradition of baking a communal fruitcake for the holiday.
In some areas, male friends would spice up their weekly card games by playing for the cake’s ingredients, wagering flour, molasses, and raisins instead of money. The loser each week would have to provide his assigned component, and on Candlemas the entire group would gather with their wives at one of their homes to enjoy the cake, which was likely baked by the women even though they never joined in the games.
The custom of pooling ingredients to make a collective Candlemas meal likely reflects the need to ration supplies in mid-winter to ensure they lasted until spring. The francophone communities of the Port au Port Peninsula had a similar tradition of sharing their resources to celebrate La Chandeleur — the French translation of Candlemas.
A local man chosen as the Candlemas king or boss would make the rounds of town to collect elements for a meal from each household. At every home where he received a contribution, he would tie a ribbon to a long pole he carried with him.
On Candlemas night, the community would gather for dinner, and afterward the Candlemas king would lead them in dancing, holding in one hand the pole whose streaming ribbons represented all the families that, by their cooperation, had conjured a feast in the lean months of winter.
Predicting the winter yet to come
Though there may not have been groundhogs at hand, Newfoundlanders and Labradorians used Feb. 2 for forecasting, too. Conditions on that day were believed to predict the weather for the rest of the winter.
Traditional verses from England and Scotland hinged on a contradictory relationship between the weather on Candlemas and the weather to come. Take for example this poem first published in 1678, which was still known in Newfoundland and Labrador in the 1960s:
If Candlemas day be fair and bright,
Winter will have another flight.
If on Candlemas day it be shower and rain,
Winter is gone and will not come again.
The same inverse logic underlies Groundhog Day predictions. If the groundhog sees its shadow — that is, if Feb. 2 is sunny — there will be six more weeks of winter, whereas if the day is too overcast for the groundhog to cast a shadow, spring is around the bend.
A homegrown Newfoundland and Labrador weather rhyme for the day, though, predicts the opposite:
If Candlemas Day be bright and fine,
The worst of the winter is left behind.
If Candlemas Day be rough and grum,
The worst of the winter is yet to come.
The beauty of having both options in the province’s folk repertoire is there’s always a reason to be optimistic. Clear skies on Feb. 2? The worst of the winter must be over. Blowing snow? Let’s assume winter is over, too.
In the long haul until spring, there needs to be encouragement, and Candlemas was a reminder of the persistence of light, warmth, and community spirit even in the darkest times.
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