THE traditional injunction, "Ne'er east a clout till May be out", has acquired a hollow, almost sardonic, ring in 1997.
The last few days of this year's May, and indeed the early days of June, gave us a tantalising taste of what summer could be like. But since then the sunny, sultry warmth that, ever since childhood, we have learned to associate with this time of year has been very noticeably absent.
Summer, it would seem, has given us a miss, and decided to disport itself elsewhere.
The average temperature during the last month has been well below the seasonal norm. In general, western parts of Ireland have fared best. But in the Dublin area, for example, afternoon maxima during June were nearly two degrees below the long-term average.
In many parts the threshold of 20 Celsius, usually exceeded frequently at this time of year, was not achieved at all.
Rain, too, has been plentiful, with many eastern areas experiencing downpours totalling twice the normal quota, and the June sunshine that we expect almost as of right has been notable only for its absence.
Of course Ireland, in common with most countries in the so-called temperate latitudes, always suffers from a certain blurring of the seasons. The summer norm is a changeable weather regime dictated by the generally westerly pattern of our winds, and the difference in character between it and winter conditions is one of degree rather than of kind.
The change we anticipate at this time of year is that the semi-permanent high-pressure area in the vicinity of the Azores should move some five degrees of latitude farther north, gaining extra strength from the radiant power of the overhead sun and tending to intensify, so that its northern "edge" is not too far to the south of Ireland.
This in turn usually means that the depressions that bring us our broken weather are fewer and less vigorous in summer than at other times of year, and they are also pushed further north, so that on average they tend to pass nearer to Iceland than they do to us.
A spell of really warm sunny weather, however, is an anomaly - albeit a relatively frequent one. The extra ingredient for good weather comes in the form of an extension of the Azores anticyclone - a "blob" of high pressure, so to speak, which every so often protrudes northwards and disrupts the normal westerlies.
Wherever it appears, warm sunny conditions are the order of the day.
Very broadly speaking, such an anomaly is likely to occur in one of three places - in the middle of the Atlantic, over central Europe or, if we are lucky, stretching northwards over Ireland and Britain.
One might think, therefore, of the chances of getting a good spell of summer weather as akin to winning the jackpot on a three-slot wheel of fortune. But so far this year we have been unsuccessful in this meteorological lottery.
Insofar as the Azores high has tended to extend northwards this year at all, it has done so in mid-Atlantic. For most of the past month, low pressure has been cent red on or near Ireland.
Indeed, the depression which crossed Ireland on June 20th was the deepest June depression to hit the country in 50 years. It, and others like it, have tended during the past month to settle just to the east of Ireland, providing us with regular heavy downpours and a persistent blanket of cloud, and maintaining over the country for much of the time a cool, generally northerly, drift of often very chilly air.
But there is nothing sinister about this unlucky turn of the wheel. We have no need to look to global warming to explain it, or to seek the answer in the sun spot numbers.
We need not look for abnormalities in the Arctic ice cap, or fear that the general circulation of the atmosphere is breaking down. It is just the luck of the draw.
The most constant feature of our Irish climate is its consistent variability, and a cool damp June is no more remarkable in the meteorological scheme of things than having, say, three wet Sundays in succession. But it is equally unpleasant.