I think March is the cruelest month. It's a tease; playing with our deepest longing for an end to winter and the coming of warm weather and sunny skies. Today warm sun lights up the white blossoms on the plum and pear trees. I am encouraged - and vulnerable. Tomorrow could be 20 degrees and frost. Who doesn't remember being out of school for three straight Wednesdays due to March snows. How unforgivably wanton with our emotions!
Chili Dog and I walked around our neighborhood this afternoon. Tiny flowers have emerged from the already green weeds along the road. How foolish; how tender; how trusting. March, that old trickster, has not yet shown his hand. I'm keeping my seeds under my hat.
Chili Dog and I walked around our neighborhood this afternoon. Tiny flowers have emerged from the already green weeds along the road. How foolish; how tender; how trusting. March, that old trickster, has not yet shown his hand. I'm keeping my seeds under my hat.
Finally catching up on your blog, Sandi. This one is dead on. Once we get a taste of 70 degree weather and the flowers start coming out, I am done with winter. I don't care what the calendar says.
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