Posted by: deadmousediaries | March 5, 2015

Celebrating March: Mother Nature’s Mood Swings Month

Today I had to go out and couldn’t keep the ice from building up under the Jeep’s windshield wipers. Last night I carried in groceries, took out the trash, and ran to the library — all accomplished comfortably without my coat. In the next 12 hours, the temps will crash to 6 degrees. Forty eight hours from now, it will be 40.

March is here and the lion roared with her arrival. As I was driving through a little town nearby in that taunting frozsnowrainfog on March 1st, I passed a garden tractor with a ceramic Santa behind the wheel. It seemed perfectly appropriate against the snowy backdrop. Five houses down there was a motorcycle balanced on its kickstand covered by a picnic tablecloth. It had probably been parked there a few sleeps ago after a ride on that spectacular preview day when temperatures teased the 50 mark .

   Across the street, the sign at the feed mill announced that chick season is here, as in eggs and Sunday dinner, not Baja and bikinis. Still, it’s a perennial promise that Spring will eventually maneuver out from under Winter’s half-nelson and assert her dominance over the piles of dirty snow that still rim the parking lots. In another burg not far away the sign outisde the florist reads: We’re so anxious for Spring we wet out plants. Amen to anxious!
   On March 2nd, one day after Mother Nature’s Day One tantrum, I drove past kids playing basketball in their driveway and they weren’t wearing jackets. At the next house, a saucer sled stood upended in the slush. Yes, it’s that time of year when Mother Nature’s moods swing; we may as well celebrate it. At least February is over.
   The sign at the feed mill reminded me of the year we got our first order of Buff Rock chicks. We had picked them from a catalog and they arrived in the mail on a Thursday. A gorgeous, brilliant Friday followed before the next two days brought a late March Nor’easter. To be safe, we moved the brooder to the basement to keep a watchful eye on their warming light as they chirped and peeped their way through the storm.
   As always happens when I get too involved with critters, our peeps became our babies and they all had personalities. We watched them grow and exchange their saffron fuzz for tiny feathers and I remember thinking it was a good thing they were layers not fryers. It’s impossible for me to eat anything I’ve gotten to know on a first-name basis. But that’s a whole other story…
   March is the time of year when the bravest fresh buds begin to appear. They make us squint and question like the last line on the eye chart: did we see really see that tiny green blur in passing or did we simply hope we saw it. Their subtle dots of color look hand-painted on the black and white landscape. Some days, they are wavy reflections in the thin coating of ice that puts a lid on all the mud puddles made fresh the previous day. Forsythia blossoms begin to venture beyond their hiding places in March. They poke their noses out from among the brittle branches and jostle to be seen, testing the air of the outside world like bear cubs pressing all Mom’s buttons in the last days of hibernation.
   If you take a walk through the dollar stores this time of year, you’ll get a snapshot of what it means to be prepared for March mood swings. The outside doors open and close on a vestibule stacked with seasonal goods. There is firewood, ice melt and antifreeze on one shelf; charcoal, garden hose and beach balls sit on another.
   This is a visual reminder for homeowners that it’s time to tune up their and mowers but also check their sump pumps and tractor batteries. The John Deere question of the month is: is it time to take off the snow plow and attach the bagger or will March let out another giant roar before making way for the lamb that has been promised at the end of the month.
   Cold then hot, then cold again; kind, forgiving then ill-tempered and abrupt, that’s March and it’s Mother Nature’s menopause. She can’t be helped, just endured. If you’re like me, you are searching for your flip flops now but keeping your snow boots handy, just in case.  MK
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Responses

  1. Her mood swings are pretty wild indeed! What hormones do we need to give her to get her on the right path? LOL!!!

  2. Yvonne, you have such a wonderful heartfelt grasp of life. Thanks for lightening my day:) ami


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