But only slightly, because Groundhog Day is, after all, a very minor holiday. People have more pressing concerns and perplexities to ponder as they get on with their lives.

On Groundhog Day, everyone I met was in a great mood. We were smiling away due to the slight rise in temperature and the sunshine and the cloudless blue sky over snowy Whiteface Mountain. Like hibernating woodchucks, we hadn’t seen sunshine for the whole month of January. Am I exaggerating?

In Canadian French, Groundhog Day is Jour de la Marmotte; in Pennsylvania German, it is Grundsaudaag. No matter what you call it, it is a very silly day, most likely the result of winter-induced brain fog or seasonal affective disorder.

The clearly delusional premise of Groundhog Day is that the groundhog (Any groundhog? All groundhogs? What is a groundhog, exactly? Is it the same as a woodchuck?) emerges from its burrow on the second day of February. If it sees its shadow, we will have six more weeks of winter.

If, on the other hand, the sky is cloudy, the groundhog will not cast a shadow. This means spring will be early, and the happy groundhog will soon be eating little sprigs and sprouts out of your garden.

What confuses us about the groundhog’s prediction is the six-week part. We in the North Country all know that winter is going to go on and on indefinitely, much longer at any rate than six more weeks, no matter what befalls our little furry friend.

When I was living in Houston, once you got past the idea that some Yankees were trying to predict weather by interpreting the actions of a whistle-pig named Punxsutawney Phil, the story made sense. Spring was liable to arrive right quick, whether or not Phil saw his shadow. For Northerners, however, it makes no sense at all.

According to the groundhog fable, six weeks is seen as a long wait. Most any Yankee, other than a winter sports devotee, would feel delirious with joy to experience true spring mid-March. (Also very guilty.) So far, even with global climate change, that is not likely to happen. Not around here.

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration has predicted the likelihood of a colder-than-usual February for Northern New York, due to the influence of La Nina. NOAA is also predicting above-average precipitation through April.

People are saying that we’re getting a real old-fashioned winter, but it used to be colder. In 2016, Valentine’s Day weekend was frigid, with temperatures ranging from 20 to 31 degrees below zero in Keene and Elizabethtown, not counting wind chill, to a record minus 114 degrees, including windchill, on top of Whiteface Mountain in Wilmington. Subzero temperatures were commonplace for the Adirondacks in January and February. I remember the temperature once going as low as 40 degrees below zero in Keene. Some years, it never got above zero for weeks at a stretch.

Adirondackers tend to feel guilty about the weather and its vicissitudes.

If the weather is mild, you’ll hear someone say, “Don’t tell anybody, but I’m not missing the snow this winter,” or “Between you and me, I don’t mind the warm weather. I’m scared of taking a fall on the ice.”

“I just hope we don’t have to pay for it later.”

There’s the key: “I just hope we don’t have to pay for this later.”

Adirondackers believe that the weather is controlled by Wells Fargo or some celestial credit bureau. Good and bad weather are recorded on opposite sides of a ledger in the sky, and the two sides have to balance. If conditions are predominantly pleasant, sooner or later we will pay.

Adirondackers may vacation in Sanibel, Florida, or Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, guilt-free. What would be allowed in a more temperate clime, we could never get away with at home. (Right now, however, Florida temperatures have plummeted to the extent that frozen iguanas are reportedly falling out of trees. It does no good to cover them with blankets, because they are cold-blooded and don’t generate heat.) We will, nonetheless, be punished for enjoying unseasonably clement weather here in the North Country, and no matter how much it rains or snows, someone is bound to tell you, “We need the water.”

Hey, I don’t make the rules.

Have a good week.

(Martha Allen, of Keene Valley, has been writing for the News since 1996.)