A Leap of Faith

When an El Nino winter claims the calendar and showers the Ten Thousand Islands with more dreary days than a snowbird can count, who would suspect that a shaken confidence in the sunshine state and the southernmost paradise in America could coincide with Leap Year folklore and mountain folk superstition.

Whenever February adds an extra twenty-four hours to the end of the month, an added day on the calendar can change the superstitions of many cultures for the entire year. Some superstitions are perceptions of dire warnings, but others are opportunities to be optimistic or perhaps create a change of heart.

In Greece, a strong belief abounds that any who choose to marry during a Leap Year will have a divorce or the dreaded curse of a spouse with a wandering eye. In Scotland, the farmers believe a Leap Year is bad for sheep but good for goats. A belief roams through the windy Highlands of Scotland that the devil is afoot during a Leap Year and is looking to tempt young lovers away from star-crossed soulmates.

In Ireland, however, maidens who are smitten with a reluctant boyfriend can escape the rigors of tradition on Leap Year. For potential husbands who are slow to seek the promise of matrimony, the womenfolk of the Emerald Isle may freely propose marriage to a shy but likely suitor on February 29.

In the mountains of eastern Tennessee, all bets are off for every February that holds a dangling date. In the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains and particularly on the rocky top and hometown of a particular Marco Beach Boy, traditions run deep and always have.

Many of the folks of western Appalachia are steadfast in the belief of superstition. These mountain people truly respect tradition. They listen to their lineages with a stubborn pride that makes any other allegiance anemic, and they study every parcel of folklore with scrutiny and resolve.

The settlers that came to the Appalachian Mountains came to America because the old world was not trustworthy. The folks from Scotland and Ireland were firm in their belief that if wealth—despite the odds—somehow became a coveted acquisition, the government of the day would find a scheme to take it away. Most of the grandparents and the great-grandparents of Appalachia were from Scotland or Ireland, with a little parcel of Germany thrown in to complete a good mountain recipe.

When a Leap Year arrives in the mountains, the lineages from Scotland become wary and are looking for the devil in the details of every transaction and every relationship. The descendants of the Irish, however, are looking for good luck and opportunity in every twist and turn of mountain life, while the families from Germany are warily watching everything but hoping for the best.

When a particular granny saw the February frost thaw early and that the coffee grounds were coming out of the old percolator wrong, she already knew there was a dangling day at the end of the month. This was the time to search for every sign. Near the chicken coup, a spider was spinning a web counterclockwise: a sure sign of trouble with romance. As granny was walking, she noticed a new crack in the cement of the sidewalk. This was another sign that romance was up to no good and she instantly thought of the next-door neighbor and the feisty girl who was coming of age. The girl was dangerous because she probably had her eye on every grandson on the mountain. 

After the granny next door woke in the wee hours before the dawn, she shook out the laundry basket and began to start her day. The colors were the same on each side of the pile: it was a good sign for romance. When she went to take out the trash, two raccoons were dashing side by side in the moonlight: a sure sign of matrimony. When the first light of day began to glisten on the frost, two woodpeckers were sitting side by side in an old birch tree: another good sign. After the cream curdled in the coffee, this granny knew that the upcoming Leap Year and the end of February was bringing good signals for her great-granddaughter to start a home of her own.

When the whirlwind came overnight, it was early in the season. The timid twister sat down on the mountaintop just before a red sky of warning, and when the storm was past, broken branches, livestock, and long-tailed cats were misplaced and seemingly everywhere. When a disaster troubles mountain folks, everyone jumps in to help—for better or worse.

After the two great grannies were out with the stormy dawn and meeting to visit across a gulf of differences and their two backyards, they could not help but notice the superstitious signs. The great-grandson and the great-granddaughter were walking toward each other while each was holding a long-tailed cat. When the young couple began laughing at the sight of each other holding a lost cat on the last day of an extra day in February, they knew there was a spark of superstition that no one could stop.

Both of the grannies agreed that the long-tailed cats were a sure sign of matrimony, and the fallen birch tree and branches were another signal for romance. There were always many signals during a Leap Year and especially during the last dangling day in an extra-long February. Eggs with double yolks were good luck. Cracks in mirrors were signs of trouble, and both of the mountain folk grannies agreed the weather had not been right ever since the folks in Florida had been sending up spaceships and rockets. 

Tom Williams is a Marco Islander and the author of two books: “Lost and Found” and “Surrounded by Thunder - the Story of Darrell Loan and the Rocket Men.” Both books are available on Kindle and Nook.