March,
you and Mother Nature need to talk.
According to the calendar, winter is over.
Spring is here.
March,
I always have such great expectations when you arrive.
My head begins to dream of
flowers blooming,
sun shining,
and trees budding.
My soul longs for green grass and colorful landscapes.
My soul longs for green grass and colorful landscapes.
March,
you are typically the snowiest month in Colorado.
Do you think you and Mother Nature could talk and change that statistic?
March,
when you arrive, I know your track record.
You always seem to bend those optimistic looking daffodils over until they touch the earth from which they so recently have sprung when you cover them with your thick covers of heavy wet snow.
Soon their jaunty heads will defy the snow you bring.
They are hearty and resilient flowers.
They must be to deal with you,
March.
Soon their jaunty heads will defy the snow you bring.
They are hearty and resilient flowers.
They must be to deal with you,
March.
March,
I know you and your ways.
I've learned to adapt to your capricious ways.
When I was just a child, my grandfather told me all about you.
He'd say, "If you don't like the weather in Colorado in the spring,
stick around for five minutes and it will change.
March,
even though I know how you are,
I fall for your ways on those days when you bring us sunshine.
Your whimsical nature
makes me dream of sunny, warm days filled with flowers, and birds, and shady trees.
I imagine warm spring and summer evenings on the new patio I just had built
for those warm days to come.
On those days filled with your whimsy,
I forget how temperamental you can be.
The very next day,
you bring snow, and wind, and blizzards that keep me indoors and shut down traffic.
In my memory, I hear my grandfather singing, "When it's springtime in the Rockies,"
whenever it snows.
Yes,
March, I know all about you.
March,
you can be so volatile.
March,
your days are coming to an end for this year.
I am so looking forward to
April's
visit.
*************************
March has been as capricious as ever this year.
I know you and your ways.
I've learned to adapt to your capricious ways.
When I was just a child, my grandfather told me all about you.
He'd say, "If you don't like the weather in Colorado in the spring,
stick around for five minutes and it will change.
March,
even though I know how you are,
I fall for your ways on those days when you bring us sunshine.
Your whimsical nature
makes me dream of sunny, warm days filled with flowers, and birds, and shady trees.
I imagine warm spring and summer evenings on the new patio I just had built
for those warm days to come.
On those days filled with your whimsy,
I forget how temperamental you can be.
The very next day,
you bring snow, and wind, and blizzards that keep me indoors and shut down traffic.
 |
| Deer looking for food on March 26, 2016. They are trying to eat pine needles on the tree they are under. |
whenever it snows.
Yes,
March, I know all about you.
March,
you can be so volatile.
March,
your days are coming to an end for this year.
I am so looking forward to
April's
visit.
*************************
March has been as capricious as ever this year.
Easter plans were nearly ruined by the heavy snow that fell the two days before Easter. Jim had to work on the day before Easter, and it snowed and snowed and snowed. I had purchased food to cook for Easter dinner. The weather changed all our plans for having family with us for our Easter celebration.
That didn't stop me from cooking. It was snowing. The house was empty. I had nothing else to do, so I cooked. I made homemade rolls, a large bowl of potato salad, and frog eye salad. As I cooked, I talked to my dear friend Linda on the phone. She also was cooking for family. Her family also had to change their plans. I said, "Linda, come on over here for Easter dinner. Let's put our food together and celebrate Easter together." She said she'd made a cake. I didn't have any dessert made yet. I had a ham. I told her not to cook her turkey. She had cheese bread she'd made. She also made a green salad.
After Easter church services, Linda and her husband Greg came over and celebrated with us. It was good to have the time with the dearest of friends. The sun was shining, the snow was melting, and we celebrated the renewal of spring that we would surely see in days to come.
I remembered to take a photo of Jim and Greg after dinner, but since I didn't take one of Linda and me, I am including a photo taken of us a few years back on Easter Sunday.
***************
The last few days we have been able to get out and walk when it isn't snowing.
The dark skies over the mountains confirm weather predictions.
Snow is on it's way.
We live in a valley at the feet of the foothills.
As we walk up the steep incline that is just a few blocks from our house,
we can get just a peek of the peak that is Pikes Peak.
Storm clouds are gathering.
We live in the city, but sometime's you'd never know it.
We get the best of both worlds where we live: close to the city and close to the mountains.
That means we also get the snow that others just a few hundred feet lower,
and just a few miles away,
don't get.
It is snowing again tonight.
The prediction is that it will be colder and there will be more snow and wind tomorrow.
March is not going out like a lamb.
I will have cataract surgery tomorrow.
I predict I will be spending the day after surgery wrapped up in blanket and enjoying the beauty of the snowy world around me.
