Friday, March 13, 2020

Getting Through March, Sheepishly

March came in like a lioness, and then the lioness stepped away for a few days. Within her brief absence, plucky birds paired off amorously, and local starlings sang merrily, pretending they were robins. For a while it looked as if there would be an early maple syrup run.  For a handful of days, I dared to entertain thoughts of springtime - gardening magazines, nursery catalogs and seed packets bloomed on every surface in the little blue house in the village.

There are halcyon days now and then, but they are few and far between. Frigid days and icy nights persist, the north wind flinging heaps of snow against the door of the garden shed, shiny new icicles dangling from rafters, tumps of earth and faded grasses vanishing after emerging briefly out of the white stuff. There is still a lot of snow about, and our geese, loons and herons are going to be late coming home this year. It will be weeks until they can find food in frozen farm fields. 

What is one to do at such times?  I drink Logdriver espresso and Yorkshire tea, make soup and gingerbread cookies, pummel bread dough. In the middle of the night, I plot new beds of heirloom vegetables and herbs to be dug (hopefully) next month, research heirloom roses, lay out the design for another quilt. I cultivate forbearance and try to be cheerful when snow falls and ice turns the threshold into a skating rink, hoping ardently that Lady March will get her act together and morph into a lamb, darn it.

At the end of winter, one becomes a tad maudlin.  When a friend in the Lanark Highlands told me this week that spring lambs are about to be born in her magnificent old log barn, I could have cried. Poor wee beasties, coming into the world in such harrowing circumstances.

Enough is enough already.  Rain would be fine, and it is easier stuff to shove than snow. One thing about the weather though - the night skies have been fabulous: flaming sunsets and moons one can almost reach up and touch, planets dancing in the sky at dusk, dippers of starlight strewn by handfuls from vast, streaming cosmic cauldrons. What a show, what a trip!


Guy said...

Hopefully you will see spring soon. Snow, drifting and a real windchill here today.


Barbara Rogers said...

Hello from another point of view...that of living in the time of Corvid-19, so I'm having to watch what I touch, how close I get to others, and disinfecting surfaces that other's touch. Not to mention washing hands and not touching eyes, nose, mouth! So I do hope spring gives you relief soon, and I'm hunkering down in isolation for the next 2 weeks at least. Everything is getting canceled where groups gather. I'm urging my "at-risk" friends to follow the protocol I mentioned above. I wear a face mask because I frequently cough, and others don't want me near them either! But as of now I'm healthy (as usual anyway.)

Kiki said...

It seems to me as if you’re living in a parallel universe.... everybody worrying about the pandemie and you living in this pure, if harsh, but somewhat better world, in unison with nature, your dog and your thoughts. Keep strong, friend. Spring WILL come.