Official Newspaper of Eddy County since 1883

The onion calendar

I'd just pulled up to the post office to mail a couple of packages when Delbert Eszlinger called to wish me a Happy New Year from his ranch seven miles northeast of Ashley.

After we bragged about the size of our snowdrifts for a while, I asked him about the famous onion calendar he and Donna do every New Year's Eve, which predicts moisture for the coming year.

The way it works is you slice an onion in half vertically to create 12 “cups” representing the months of the year. Then you add a teaspoon of salt to draw out the moisture from the onion cups. The varying amounts of water in the cups in the morning represent the expected moisture for the coming year. Delbert said it was 95% accurate in 2019, but if that's so, you'd think he would have moved south.

I suggested they use a California onion this year so we could get better weather, but Donna had already picked out one from North Dakota. Because I have too much time on my hands, I resolved to get into the weather prognostication business myself with a 72-cent red onion— because it was affordable and looked tropical.

Before I got to the post office door, I bumped into Terry Ulrich, and we stood there comparing snowbanks for for so long, that while we were standing there, Delbert pulled up to get his mail and wish us a Happy New Year to our faces. During our extended snowbank discussion we watched Kirk Rueb, the owner of Ashley SuperValu, go to the post office. Twice. None of this is pertinent to the story. It's just what we columnists call local color. It also illustrates the Ashley business community's struggles with efficiency.

Anyway, when it came time to slice the onion, I realized I was in way over my head. First of all, I hadn't mixed myself a vodka sour like Delbert does before the ceremony. All I had is wine, and with all that corkscrew business, it seemed like a lot of work. I lack the necessary ambition to be a good drinker.

I thought maybe there should be an incantation or something, but I didn't have any Harry Potter books. Or maybe a goat sacrifice, but I didn't have a goat, so I was just mean to the cat for a while.

Then I lost confidence in my onion when I realized it didn't have one of those country-of-origin stickers on it. So basically I was working with an undocumented onion. What if it came from Mexico? I don't speak Spanish. This was becoming more stressful than I'd imagined. I was starting to understand the vodka sour strategy.

I managed to slice the onion without any spilt blood, but I didn't have an actual measuring teaspoon, so I had to count out two half-teaspoons per cup. But somewhere along about March, I lost count, because I'm bad at math. I remind you, no alcohol was involved.

My best guess is March is going to either be seasonably mild and slightly salty, or we're all going to die.

By the time I got to June, the carton was empty so I had to pillage the salt shakers. There was barely enough. If I'd run out, my final option was the orange Himalayan salt in the fancy grinder, and I'm not sure what kind of weather a Mexican onion and Himalayan salt would produce, but I'm pretty sure it would upset the John Birchers. And I darn sure don't speak Himalayan.

When I was done, it dawned on me that I hadn't used iodized salt, so then I began to fret about weather with thyroid issues. My kingdom for a vodka sour.

The bottom line is, I can't be sure my calendar is as accurate as the Eszlingers', which predicts a great year ahead if your name is Noah or you have gills.

It could be worse. Here's what the Bender Onion Calendar predicts:

• January: Earthquakes

• February: The weather develops a goiter.

• March: We're all going to die.

• April: Boll Weevils

• May: Landslidesa

• June: Tsunami on Dorfman Lake

• July: Sharknado

• August: Snowshine

• September: Volcanic eruption in the Forbes Hills

• October: Dogs and cats living together

• November: Penguins spotted near Lehr

• December: The Eszlingers move to Yuma.

I don't think Nostradamus did it this way.

© Tony Bender, 2020

 
 
Rendered 03/24/2024 22:30