It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
Spring comes slowly in this fickle climate.
March is a mercurial month with spits of sunshine and snow and a gasping wind that catches its breath, holds it, then blows with all its might. Those leaves of Autumn we thought we raked are tossed about like a a newly dressed salad and one is often playing a muddy game of pick-up-sticks after 50+ mph winds.
So it is here on the Cutoff. A waiting game. Anticipation. Those of us who have lived our lives hereabouts know that several feet of snow can still fall down. It is tornado season and rivers can rise. Hard freezes can cruelly halt the growth of blossoms and Mother Nature can stomp her feet and proclaim “No. Not yet!”
Still-in-all, Spring brings hope and joy and childlike glee. We toss off our wraps of winter when we can. We muck about in the mud and we have a Dickens of a time on the first day of Spring, knowing IT is coming.