It is moody.
The countryside is a canvas of browns and grays, all the snow melted and not a even a hint of green yet. We had a springish sort of rain yesterday—the kind that smells hopeful and mingles with the echo of voices and wet boots in the library foyer. Today the ground was hard and the wind drove an icy meteor shower of snowflakes into our faces as we hustled into the grocery store.
There was a robin perched on top of our shed last week.
But I still bundle Iris up in layers every day.
And I—I am sometimes blissed by the cuteness and the simple enjoyment of a Wendy’s lunch out, bite for bite, with this little person in my life… and sometimes it’s hard to even get out of bed in the morning or work up any sort of enthusiasm for whatever piece of life happens to be the order of the day simply because the skies are too gray and the days are too long.
But there’s no hurrying March, so we dawdle on. And there are good afternoons when the sun comes out, and we watch Iris run around the backyard, absolutely thrilled with life because she has never run around our backyard before and there are so many squishy mound of dirt to explore. And on the cold nights, worn out from a day of nap-wars, I am learning to appreciate the goodness of excellent chocolate and a well-stocked Netflix queue.
Just rolling with the punches.
That’s March here in Michigan.