March had its way with me!!!! Again!
by Bella Rum
One of my favorite people in the world was born in the midst of a blizzard in March. They barely got his mother to the hospital before he made his debut. One of my best memories is flying kites in March. I have nothing against March, and I positively love a snowy day, but there is a time for every season or to every thing there is a season or a time to every purpose, or a thingamajig for every thingamajig and all that.
I guess I’m trying to say that, to be fair, March is the transitional month. It has its purpose and its own nature, and it cannot help what it is. In my neck of the woods, March brings with it the first promise of renewal, the first hint of teasingly warm days, blue skies, almost balmy breezes and a few – very few – of the sweetest days of the year, and then it takes them away as harshly as an older sibling snatching a cookie from his younger brother.
And we wail.
Everyone talks about it. You find yourself talking to strangers in the canned soup aisle at Food Lion. We shake our heads, cluck and commiserate about cabin fever, and we claim that we’ve never seen such a March. Of course, we are only revisiting the same, tired, old conversations we had a year ago.
I love winter and snow more than most, but the heart does want what it wants at a certain time of year. With my very own eyes, I’ve seen daffodils lifting their buttery faces on bare roadsides, and I’ve heard rumors of robins pecking for worms and irises poking their green tips through the saturated earth.
And I remind myself.
“If winter comes, can spring be far behind?”