Always a bit nostalgic... the beginning of March.
Some years ago when I turned the calendar from February to March I thought "Before I turn the calendar again I will be a mother." Yes, March is Anne's birthday month. That morning I could not have predicted the bountiful blessings she'd bring to my life.
My birthday month is half a year from now. And though I admit that autumn is my favorite season, I am more than glad that we're in Anne's birthday month and not mine. There is much to love about spring. The shelves under the grow lights in the basement are full of sprouting seedlings: leeks, kales, onions, spinach, lettuces. Soon there will be perennial seedlings joining them.
The chickens are laying very nicely now. They've come through the winter in fine form but this morning are a bit annoyed by the new layer of white outside their door.
This morning March is holding onto winter. An absolutely beautiful, and perfect snow, is falling.
There's an older gentleman who works at our local Walmart who is a real life cowboy...he rides in the Wild West Days parade every summer and gives stage coach rides at the annual event. He told Jerome the other day that he has a 40 year old horse who correctly predicts the arrival of spring every year by when it begins to shed its shaggy winter coat. Thirty days later spring will arrive to stay. The claim is it's never been wrong. This year's beginning of spring? March 10. I love stories like that. We'll have to wait and see, but the red wing blackbirds have arrived, and some have heard robins as well. Maples are swelling, daffs are popping up along with the eager tips of resurrection lilies. Lots of green near the ground around perennials and buds swelling on my favorite clematis behind the potting shed. Gotta love it all.
Last year there was a late freeze that hit the grapes and apples especially hard. Every year I hope that spring will move slowly, steadily in a forward direction. In March of Anne's birth year, we had just that. A perfect spring. I was out taking her for walks in the old hand me down buggy every day after bringing her home. Stopping in the local park, sitting in the shade, feeling so very blessed.
And by turning the calendar it all comes back to me. Vivid. Real. Beautiful.