Light the table lamp, unscroll the parchment, dip your quill deep into the inkwell and mark these important dates for future reference:

Jan. 23: Best day to castrate animals.

March 15: Plant tomatoes.

July 10: Armadillos mate.

Nov. 19: Skunks hibernate.

Dec. 20: Best day to cut hay.

How do we know these forecasts for 2012 – not 1812, as you might presume – are accurate? Why do we trust that these predictions will even come to pass?

Because The Old Farmer's Almanac says so, that's why. A solid 220-year track record on all things agrarian and pert' near everything home- and hearth-related is nothing to sneeze at, Sonny. You whippersnappers may prefer to use "The Google" to look up the weather or consult an app for all your animal husbandry needs. But really, all you need is that 8-by-5 1/4- inch pulp-bound volume with the iconic yellow cover promising "Everything under the sun, including the moon."

Quite a boast, especially in these infinite- gigabyte days when powerful and all-knowing search engines seemingly make printed almanacs as obsolete as spats. In a culture hellbent on the fresh and new, The Old Farmer's Almanac is musty and antiquated, willfully old-school.

Lo and behold, though, the annual has endured since 1792 as a valued information source. Verily, it has survived the advent of newspapers and magazines, of radio and television, of encyclopedias and databases. It's not going to be quaking in its hip-wader boots over the current dizzying digital landscape of mobile devices, e-books and who-knows-what technical innovations to come.

There's something to be said for tradition, after all, for staying power, for withstanding the whims of fashion in favor of the tried and true. But nostalgia alone hasn't kept The Old Farmer's Almanac – released last month to, let's be brutally honest, little fanfare – in business.

"For a lot of people, it's like an old friend," said Amy Nieskens, associate editor. "This year, we've got a section on mac-and-cheese. That's comfort food. The almanac itself is like a comfort book to a lot of people."

Its editors know the marketplace realities, however. They know the almanac must be just as relevant and relatable to people who think their steaks come magically shrink-wrapped in the freezer aisle as to pungent livestock ranchers fresh from the slaughter.

The book must make a nod to modernity without alienating its longtime readers. A complete makeover of the almanac, which has never been attempted, would be like outfitting your blue-haired grandma in a halter top and 4-inch heels. It would be just plain wrong.

So while the almanac does have a considerable digital presence – website, Facebook page (79,000 "fans"), Twitter account (2,500 followers) and e-newsletter (150,000 subscribers) – its focus and raison d'etre remains print.

Almanac editors report selling 3 million copies a year via newsstands, grocery and hardware store checkout aisles, book stores and, yeah, the Web. But Nieskens says the almanac "gets passed around a lot" and actually is read by an estimated 9 million. That pass-around phenomena is why, back in 1792, they punched a hole in the upper left-hand corner – so farmers could hang it from a peg in the outhouse for workers to peruse in, you know, contemplative moments.

(Quick aside about that hole: About 20 years ago, editors surveyed readers, asking them if they would object if the hole was removed. "There was outrage," Nieskens said. "So we kept it in, even though it costs thousands of dollars to drill 3 million almanacs with that hole.")

It might surprise that most readers of The Old Farmer's Almanac these days are not farmers. The Bee contacted the California Farm Bureau Federation hoping to find farmers who use the almanac as part of their work or even just for entertainment. Spokeswoman Megan Alpers came up empty, but suggested trying Chuck Ingels, Sacramento County farm adviser for the UC Cooperative Extension.

"I honestly have never looked at the almanac, but I've seen it on bookshelves," Ingels said. "It's never mentioned by the farmers I'm in contact with."

Some farmers consider the almanac passé. They think it reinforces the stereotype of the rough-hewn type who exercises his back more than his brain. These days, farmers have to be tech- and soil-savvy in equal measure.

"We find no use for the almanac with today's world of technology," sniffed Bob Bell, a walnut grower in Winters.

Added Bob Payne of Payne Farms in Woodland: "I am 45 years old and the only Farmer's Almanac I have seen has been at the grocery store checkout line."

Nieskens conceded that only very old-school farmers rely on the almanac solely for weather predictions and crop cycles based on solar and planetary alignment.

"But the farmers I do hear from are pretty vocal," she said. "I remember my first week working for the almanac, I got an email from a farmer saying he had to help his calf give birth and he didn't know when to do it. I was like, 'What? Where am I?' So there are still people who really do follow the moon and solar cycles."

If not farmers, then who primarily reads the almanac?

A hint might come from the title itself: older folks.

"A lot of our readers don't even have the Internet," Nieskens said. "Our essay winner this year (82-year-old Elizabeth J. Gortemoller of Elkhorn, Wis.) sent in the essay on a cassette tape. We all sat around the editorial table and listened to it. It was amazing."

One worry is that its loyal generation is dying off.

"That's in the back of our minds a little bit," Nieskens said. "But we've been around 220 years. People who've had it in their family will always have it in their family."

Hopes for nurturing a younger readership are buoyed by people such as Sacramentan Amy Self, 30. She lives in an apartment, not a rural homestead, but says she swears by the almanac's advice.

Self's parents had never read the book. A self-described "weather freak," she picked it up on impulse at a Lowe's during a particularly strong La Niña weather year.

"I like to check the weather for my daughter's birthday in order to plan her party," Self said. "Being at the beginning of March, it can be warm or wet. This year, are we going to have an early fall or late summer? Only the almanac can tell. They're pretty spot-on concerning the weather. I'm not sure how they predict the weather for an entire year for the entire country."

No one will find out, either. Almanac editors say it's all hush-hush and proprietary. They call it a "secret formula" developed in 1792 by founder Robert B. Thomas based on climatology, solar cycles and, yes, even newfangled meteorology. These days, the almanac has a licensed meteorologist, Michael Steinberg, listed in its staff box, alongside the staff astronomer, astrologer and "chief doggerel writer."

Editors recently crunched the numbers and were happy to report that the almanac's weather predictions were 90.6 percent accurate nationwide last winter – 80 percent yearlong. Much pride is taken in the predictions. When Nieskens sat down at a Sacramento cafe on a 100-degree mid-September afternoon, she boasted, "We predicted this in the almanac."

For the record, in 2012, the almanac predicts that our temperatures will be below normal in winter months with above normal rainfall. March will be cold, or as the doggerel goes, "Sunny but raw – signs of a thaw? Naw." Summer will be warmer than normal, which would break a pattern from the previous two summers.

Trust the secret scientific formula, Nieskens says with a smile, when asked the basis for the prediction.

There's nothing scientific about the non-weather-related predictions that are sprinkled in the pages. These are conjured from observations, extrapolations and anecdotal evidence, and they hew to the almanac's mission of providing "new, useful & entertaining matter."

Some predictions are quirky – fireplaces will rotate in the middle of the living room and people will cook meat in them. Some are dubious – there will be fast and slow lanes on crowded sidewalks. And some seem so wacky that they just might come true – garments that can be worn backward or upside down.

"Our expert is amazing at doing these forecasts," Nieskens said. "Last year, she totally predicted the bacon-and-sweets (trend)."

None are meant to be taken as gospel, but the almanac does pride itself on the "useful" mandate. Self says she's actually learned a thing or two while being entertained.

"I think their quirkiness is a way to educate people while holding their interest," she said. "They bring fresh ideas to farming with this year's hydroponics section while offering different variations of mac and cheese."

Nonfarmers such as Self don't need to know the best time in the solar cycle to castrate an animal, or that cranberries will bud on May 11, or that Jan. 7 is Distaff Day – "when women were expected to return to their spinning following the Christmas holiday." But such miscellany is meant to amuse.

Nieskens said that over the years the almanac has tried to adapt to changing mores. Distaff Day notwithstanding, she said much of the sexist information from previous almanacs has been removed, like references to women staying in the kitchen.

Alas, one deletion that may be missed by readers is admonitions to refrain from certain behaviors and activities on certain days. Flipping through the 1971 edition, The Bee found this warning: "Don't marry, May 12-31."

Too bad a certain satisfaction-seeking rock star wasn't up on his almanac. Let the record show that, on May 12, 1971, Mick and Bianca Jagger were married in St. Tropez, France. They were divorced seven years later, at which time Bianca told the New York Post, "My marriage ended on my wedding day."

Yes, you can't always get what you want from The Old Farmer's Almanac, but you can get what you need.

THE OLD FARMER'S ALMANAC

• First published in New Hampshire in 1792

• Believed to be the oldest continually published periodical in North America.

• Closest rival: The Farmer's Almanac, 26 years younger and published in Maine.

• Cost: $5.99

• Where to buy: Online at almanac.com and at various newsstands and grocery and hardware stores.

• Purported accuracy of weather forecasts over 220 years: 80 percent

• Weather prediction for Sacramento in 2012: Below-normal temperatures in winter months with above-normal rainfall. Summer will be warmer than normal, which would break a pattern from the previous two summers.

• Boldest 2012 non-weather prediction: "spray-on-the-body fabrics" in lieu of clothes.

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Call The Bee's Sam McManis, (916) 321-1145.

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