The publishers of The Farmer’s Almanac recently announced that, because of the current “chaotic media environment”, the 2026 edition will be its last. When it was founded in 1818, the Almanac served as a general reference for farmers and gardeners, containing weather predictions, planting advice, tide tables, folklore and recipes. It was an immediate success, eventually growing to a North America circulation of 2.1 million.

The same year the Almanac premiered, the U.S. Congress officially adopted the flag with 13 stripes and 20 stars—one for each state. Also, that year, Illinois achieved statehood, General Andrew Jackson fought a harsh, imperialist Seminole War in Florida and the Christmas carol “Silent Night” was first performed in Oberndorf, Austria. 1818 was also the year James Blundell performed the first human blood transfusion and the Baron Karl von Drais invented the precursor to the bicycle, called the “Dandy Horse.” The United States was entering a new era of information and technological innovation—and The Farmer’s Almanac was helping to lead the way.

But since 1818, the scientific world has advanced with dizzying speed and the current Almanac’s articles on how seeds absorb the most water during the new and full moon phases, making those the best times to plant, now seem, at best, quaint. And at worst, a little pathetic. Their “meteorological” methodology, based on sun spots, wooly caterpillars, historical weather patterns and even astrology don’t hold up well against modern satellite tracking, computer models and real-time radar reports instantly available on the internet. The Almanac claims its long-range weather prediction is 80 percent accurate with its vague, folksy language like “bouts of cold” and “wet and wild”. However, analysis by the University of Illinois scores it at 52 percent, only slightly better than a coin toss.

But if The Farmer’s Almanac is so outdated and unreliable, how did it survive this long? You might as well ask yourself why do intelligent, educated people read their astrology chart when they know it’s malarky? Why does anybody still use mercury thermometers or tuning forks, or pendulum clocks or landlines or sailboats?

We cling to bygone technology out of reverence for a simpler time when an average person could understand how stuff works. Who knows how a computer works? But after a ten-minute explanation, you will know all you need to know about an abacus. The weather app on your phone gives you up-to-the-minute, accurate data. But there is something immensely satisfying about checking your manual rain gauge and personally calculating the water level, minus the floating Junebug.

We loved The Farmer’s Almanac for its charming articles, kindly advising us to wear warm clothes in the winter and plant our tomatoes according to the phases of the moon. It let us travel back to a time when neighbors shared recipes and looked out for each other. In their farewell article, the Almanac’s editors who presided over so many flawed weather predictions, surrendered at last to their personal, inescapable winter, writing, “The season we hoped would never come is here.”