Ahhh, March. You bring us one month closer to the promise of spring with your wild and unpredictable snow storms, your extreme warmth, your puddles and mud, little bit of rain, thawed out cow plops, cloudy and sunny and then cloudy again skies. All of your personalities keep us on our toes and undecided about appropriate footwear and jackets and I like that about you.
I like that you bring on the wind and the mud, the fifty-degree temperatures and the blinding blizzards, the rain and the ice.
Yes March you’re a little ambitious. You get up a little earlier and go to bed a little later. And that suits you fine, all of that light reminding us that soon we will be able to stay outside until 10 pm and wake up with you at 6.
Soon our days will be full of warm sunshine and green grass sprinkled with flowers…
I am looking forward to it, I am. But truthfully March, right now, it doesn’t appear that all of us are on the same page. You know, the page we turn to take us from hibernation, head under the covers, groggy, snugly evenings that meld into dark and lazy, robe wearing mornings spent shuffling around the kitchen with our eyes barely open to the place where we crack open our windows and let the warm breeze sing us to sleep after a day spent under the soul-refreshing spring sky only to be wakened by the sliver of sun peeking through the window in the early morning hours, prompting us to pop out of bed and greet the chirping birds and fresh green grass poking through the earth…
Some of us are not quite there yet.
Some of us are caught in limbo, the place between holding on to our winter coats and throwing caution and our fur, to the March wind.
Some of us are still sleepy.
Some of us aren’t quite ready to trade in our flannel p.j.s for nothing but the sheets.
Some of us haven’t shaved our legs for months.
Some of us wouldn’t mind another extra hour or so to finish up that reoccurring dream about Ryan Renolds.
Some of us need three to six cups of coffee before the day can start.
So March, don’t take this the wrong way. Realize it’s still early, the pug’s still snoring and I have yet to change out of my robe. March, I appreciate the little glimmers of hope you create and I expect that whole “Lion/Lamb” thing. I appreciate your puddles and the way you warm the hilltops. I like the vibe you’re throwing this week and what you’re promising for the weekend: 50+ degrees and a chance to ride some horses.
But I know your good mood won’t last. It never does.
And that’s why I haven’t packed up my furry vest and slippers that might as well be boots.
I don’t trust you.
And neither do these guys.
We love your face March. We do.
But you can’t trick us. We’ve learned and we’re going to stay tired for a while longer.
So we aren’t moving, we aren’t shaving, we aren’t opening these windows, packing up the down coats, or looking for our short sleeves until at least mid April.
Yeah…when April gets it together, maybe we will too.