Oh, March! What madness you bring!
You tease me with a glimmer of sunshine and then turn around and pile on a layer of snow to smother my hope. The wildlife is as confused as I am. Afraid to freely frolic in the barren trees, the squirrels keep their feet on the ground and scour the frosty soil for hidden nuts.
One day I need a wool scarf. The next, my bare neck welcomes a massage from a mild breeze.
The dusty road salt lingers on the asphalt. I washed the white film off my car. My silver Toyota proudly cruised the local roadways for a few days. The next week it was splashed with gray slush and retreated into the garage in shame.
Oh, March! Why must you annually stage a race of the seasons? Winter comes out strong and takes the lead. Relentless, it holds first place for many weeks. But Spring finally creeps up from behind and surges ahead and crosses the finish line out in front. I always know the outcome, but I am tired of the drama.
Mow or shovel? You give me a chance to do either but I am not grateful. Boots or sneakers? They both sit by the door.
However, my body senses that I am on the upswing. The hours of daylight increase. I can see my neighbor’s house out the kitchen window when I make dinner. The morning sun gets in my eyes when I read the newspaper and I have to switch seats. The Canadian geese honk good-bye and brave green shoots pierce the mulch in the garden.
Come on March, stop your madness!