For more than two centuries, the Farmers’ Almanac has been sought out by Americans from all walks of life — from farmers to presidents — for its weather predictions and folksy advice.
Or was. After publishing their 2026 edition, the beloved mainstay will cease publication, the organization behind the beloved tradition announced on Thursday.
“It was a very, very tough decision,” editor Sandi Duncan told The Post, saying changes in the publishing industry have led to insurmountable financial challenges.
“Endings are always hard, but we’re hoping that the Almanac meant so much to so many people that its spirit will live on forever,” she said.
The Maine-based publication was first printed in 1818, instantly appealing to a largely agrarian population with its long-range weather forecasts, farming tips and folklore.
At the time, James Monroe was president, the automobile hadn’t been invented and the Civil War was still more than four decades away. The US had a population of less than 10 million people, around 1.5 million of whom were enslaved.
But as the country transformed, the Farmers’ Almanac remained a constant, its annual editions surviving era after era of radical societal transformation, all while retaining a signature wit, warmth and whimsy.
Ray Geiger, who edited the Almanac for a staggering 60 years, even worked on editions of the periodical while fighting in World War II.
“He would send his sister work [for the periodical] while he was out of the country,” Duncan told The Post, crediting the savvy editor for expanding the Almanac’s reach during the mid-20th Century.
“He went on every soapbox. He was on David Letterman, he was on Art Linkletter, he would travel all over the country to try to get news out about the Farmers’ Almanac.”
A piece of American history — weather or not it’s accurate
The Almanac’s long-range weather forecasts, determined by a secret formula based on sunspots, planetary positions and lunar cycles, have long been the most intriguing — and divisive — part of the periodical.
“Our founding editor came up with correlations between what was happening in the sky with what was happening with the weather,” Duncan explained, describing it as a “mathematical and astronomical formula.”
“We’ve also changed it over the years, but we’ve pretty much stayed tried and true to looking at what’s going on with the moon and the planets,” she said.
The identity of the periodical’s current forecaster, who goes by the pseudonym Caleb Weatherbee, is kept confidential. And, despite the periodical now ceasing publication, Duncan wouldn’t divulge the top secret methodology.
Almanac devotees insist the forecasts are accurate around 80% of the time, but critics claim it’s closer to 50%.
“The Farmers’ Almanac is not a preferred source for winter forecasts and not one that any meteorologist here at FOX Weather puts any stock in,” FOX Weather meteorologist Greg Diamond told The Post.
One expert went even farther, at one time calling the forecasts “a bunch of malarkey,” Popular Mechanics previously reported.
However, Duncan insisted to The Post that the Almanac has accurately predicted the weather on several important days in American history.
“The Farmers’ Almanac made a forecast for President Nixon’s daughter [Tricia ] when she was getting married in the Rose Garden [in 1971],” she said. “We said there would be some possible showers, and there were showers.”
“We also made a forecast for Arnold Schwarzenegger and Maria Shriver,” Duncan continued. “They had a wedding in April [1986]. Again, we said there would be some showers, and there were some showers.”
In 2008, the Obama campaign even asked the Almanac for some weather advice.
“Barack Obama was doing an open air speech in Denver, Colorado, and they called to see what we were forecasting. We said it would be clear and cold,” Duncan declared. The Almanac was correct.
An Almanac for a new era
Duncan began work at the Almanac’s office in Lewiston, Maine, in August 1991, on the same day Hurricane Bob blasted the state.
Since then, she’s — pardon the pun — weathered decades of change, taking the Almanac into the 21st century.
By 2017, the Farmers’ Almanac reported a circulation of 2.1 million, throughout North America.
Most surprising to Duncan has been the surge in interest younger generations have shown in the periodical, which accelerated during the COVID-19 pandemic.
The Almanac’s homespun wisdom and charm had become a balm for many Millennials and Zoomers in a rapidly changing world characterized by anxiety and uncertainty, she explained.
“I think for the past five to 10 years, there’s been a younger generation that’s looking to live a little bit more simply,” Duncan said. “It’s been exciting to see how much the younger generation has looked to us.”
“We did see a great surge of interest in the Almanac during the pandemic, because we talked about how to have a garden and how to plant things, even if you lived in the city,” she continued. “People want to take control of where they get their food a little bit more. So if you can grow some tomatoes on your balcony, why not?”
Duncan also oversaw the online expansion of the Almanac, which increased its reach — but not its revenue.
“I think it’s kind of like the downfall of a lot of newspapers,” Duncan said of the digital revolution. “We share all this stuff online for free because we want to, but it’s for free. How do you pay to keep the lights on?”
A bittersweet goodbye
After the Almanac’s announcement that it was shuttering, tributes immediately poured in on Facebook, where the publication has a huge following,
“Sad to see something with such heritage leaving,” one of the Almanac’s 1.4 million followers mourned. “Soon there will be nothing left.”
“Thank you for being part of my life for decades,” another wrote. “Every year, I would rejoice and buy the Almanac to both devour and savor.”
Another described the periodical as “an American staple.”
“The Almanac saw us through 4-5 major wars, innumerable skirmishes, the Great Depression, several recessions…and the good times, the bountiful times, the caring and loving times. The interstate highway system, the moon landing,” they opined. “The Farmers’ Almanac, like National Geographic, became an institution unto itself. Always there. Always reliable. Always honest. Always counted on.”
The Almanac had five full-time employees and a team of dedicated freelancers, all of whom are sad to say goodbye.
“When you start working the Almanac, it becomes much more than just a job,” Duncan declared. “It’s something that we all believe in so much.”
The editor is unsure of her next move — but she’s already planting seeds, both figuratively and literally.
“I have more time to do some gardening,” she quipped.