Letter to Phillip

this is obviously a letter, but alas, there is no choice for this in the dropdown.

From the Private Library of Ed Purchla, Winter-Eve, 2026

To the Honorable Punxsutawney Phil, Seer of Seers and Sage of Sages, Prognosticator of Prognosticators, Weather Prophet Enigma, Gobbler’s Knob, Pennsylvania


My Dear and Most Estimable Phillip,

I hope this letter finds you well. I would like to first commend you on finding, on this sacred day, the comfortable dark embrace of your shadow, as it should be, not thrown away in that cursed sun.  Sadly, I could not partake in this great celebration with you today, but know that my heart was there with you in spirit! That the very resplendence of cold and brisk happenings, enveloped in pristine, glorious snow, will continue, is of great importance to me, as you know, and I stand by your prediction as firm as I did but a twelvemonth ago. In this same breath, I must address a concern I have when looking back upon last year’s outcome in contrast to your February 2nd prediction. Take, for instance, the eleventh of March, when the clear sky and beating sun brought the temperature no less than three degrees Fahrenheit above the average. To say my throat was parched, my skin drenched in the sweat of solar affliction, and hence my temperament ill at ease, would be but an understatement of abundant proportion.

Phillip, I can state the following, as it is grounded in a relationship of mutual respect, so that you might know I mean no offense. Sir, while I certainly will not call you a liar, I must admit my humble observation pertaining to your ability to see, as your reputation precedes you, beyond the scope of the average human, or for that matter, Marmota monax, did in fact fail in the case of last year’s prediction.  And yet, as I was then, so too am I now, elated in finding your initial vaticination to be a wondrous event. I will not fabricate my own reaction either, when I say that hearing the groans and plaintive whimpers of the sun-worshiping folk throughout my day bore something of the proverbial music to my ears. However, I write with apprehension, knowing that much like last year, your sight may have once again been blurred. My hope is that I’m wrong in this respect, and that the temperature will, in fact, drop further, and that the wind will blow fiercely with but a howl, most keenly, bestowing a flurry of gossamer and pearlescent flakes upon our sylvan landscape.

Please accept my greatest eulogium for the patience you’ve shown in entertaining my humble thoughts. I look forward to the enduring flourishing of our camaraderie, trusting that it will bloom picturesquely, as this most auspicious winter morn.

Profoundest regards, your sincere friend,

Ed