Ever the sensible rodent, Punxsutawney Phil, after being rudely awakened this morning at Gobbler’s Knob, glimpsed his shadow, wished death on his handlers, and climbed back into bed. Six more weeks of winter!

O Mystic Groundhog. Thank you for this gift of six more weeks of winter. Ice and slush may not be ideal for walking or driving, but I will take it any day over the prospect of sizzling on the griddle for four months. No, heavy socks and cozy food are more my speed. I love climbing under the blankets with a good book and listening to the wind howl.

Phil has been calling it now for 135 years. The Washington Post reports that his prognostications have been correct 80 percent of the time. CNN places the figure closer to 39. (Phil’s handlers claim it is 100.) That’s still better than the actual professionals, who whip everyone into a frenzy at the threat of even the humblest dusting. From now on, I get all my forecasts from the groundhog.

Now join me in singing the Punxsutawney Phil song! Then back to bed.