The Yellow Day

I made the mistake of going outside today, so now all I can think about is how incredibly hot it is. For people who bask in warm weather, I suppose, it is not too miserable – but, for me, upper 80s at the end of September is more that I would hope for.

Mid-60s would do just fine.

If you’re wondering, the average high for Boston in September is a reasonable 73 degrees Fahrenheit. The record high, however, is a discomforting 102, achieved in 1881.

I was curious to learn more about that heat wave – hoping, perhaps, for some eloquently antiquated news paper articles on the subject.

Instead, I found something much more interesting. The record 102 temperature was reached on September 7, 1881 – the day after the “Yellow Day,” when “saffron curtain” mysteriously blanketed New England states.

It was eventually traced back to the great Thumb Fire of Michigan, one of the most devastating fires in that state’s history, burning over a million acres, but at the time, no one had any idea what was going on.

As the Boston Globe described:

Yesterday Boston was shrouded, and nature’s gloom soon infusing itself into the hearts of all made it a day long to be remembered, reminding one vividly of the famous dark day of years ago. About 7 O’Clock in the morning the golden pall shrouded the city in its embrace, and the weird unreal appearance continued throughout the day. As one approached a doorway from within and glanced out upon the sidewalk and street, it was difficult to dispel the illusion that an extensive conflagration was raging near, and that it was the yellow, gleaming light from the burning houses that produced the singular effect. Stepping to the sidewalk and glancing upward the roofs of the houses cut sharp and clear against the depths beyond.

A historian further described the eerie chromatic effects of the smoke:

The air became still, and calm, during that Tuesday, and people remarked about the odd tinge that colors took on as the day wore on.  Plants were particularly brilliant – the odd light sharpening their green and blue hues.  Lawns, usually a mundane green, took on brilliant color, and looked oddly bluish, in the day’s strange light.  Yellow objects appeared colorless and white, and the color in red objects popped, while blue objects became ghostly.  People in the street looked sickly and yellowish.  Overhead, birds flew low in the skies.

The event was particularly startling because professed Prophetess Mother Shipton had reportedly predicted some two centuries before:

The world to an end shall come,
In eighteen hundred and eighty one.

As far as I can tell, however, the world did not actually come to an end that day.

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