Oak and ash and St Swithin

Country lore is under some suspicion here in Cumbria. The ancient rhyme "Ash before oak we're in for a soak, oak before ash nought but a splash" seemed to bode well for a dry summer with the oaks unfurling their fresh green leaves before the ashes appeared to even think about it. And the early summer months lived up to this arboreal promise, but then July arrived with its distinctly damp demeanour and good old St Swithin managed his old trick of celebrating his very own feast day with a downpour. Since forty days takes us well into September do we pack away the hammock and the barbecue immediately? Anyone know a predictive rhyme for an Indian summer?

July 2009