Nay cast a clout...

My mother used to say, 'nay cast a cloot 'til May is 'oot'. It was a warning to all us youngsters who felt the urge to shed several layers of winter clothing at the first hint of Spring or Summer sunshine. In my case, that usually meant knee length corduroy trousers, knee high wool socks, a vest, shirt and sweater and, if we were going out or to chapel, a heavy overcoat, too. Donegal winters weren't all that unpredictable, mind you. It wasn't either wet or cold, as a general rule. It was both. I remember entire months of heavy snow; relentless rain and months of freezing sleet and ice. The change never came until mid to late April and then, only tentatively. There'd be sunshine but not a lot of heat. And a warm day without sunshine or a bitter wind, could be 'close.' Of course, these nuances and variations provided ample fodder for one of the most popular and fashionable topic of conversation; the weather. A 'red sky in the morning was a shepherd's warning, a red sky at night was a shepherd's delight.'
Any sky at all could keep them talking for hours. It made a difference. People measured the actions of their day by the weather. There weren't as many cars in private ownership in the '50s or, indeed, the '60s so a bad forecast could alter your plans, change your clothes and set you a different direction than you intended. And, even if you missed a prediction or forecast and got 'caught out', there's was plenty to talk about in a good soaking.
My mother and I always disagreed on the 'May is 'oot' interpretation. She maintained it was the end of the month of May. I believed there was something else to it. And there was. The 'may' referred to in the the rhyme, was the flower of the hawthorn bush, known as the may flower. It bloomed, traditionally, in the first week of May or, in uncommonly balmy weather, by the end of April. Strangely, as I get older, I find myself less inclined to shed the layers without some degree of caution because, as my mother always said, one swallow never made a summer