Falling For March

Spring is aboslutely bursting forth here in Indiana.

And yet it is currently 35 degrees and cloudy.
The trees are brown and our entryway is littered with winter coats.

Midwesterners love to bitch about the weather.
I kind of can't blame them. It it the thing we all have in common.
It is  how folks in LA bitch about the traffic.

But, let me confess to you, that I am totally falling for March.
I know, I know people hate March.
But people mostly hate March because it isn't the wild exposure of May.

March is so wildly dramatic.
It is teeming with potential.
It holds an adolescent wildness.
Yesterday it was 70 degrees.
Today started in the 40's and has been dropping.
What drama?!

I respect it's capacity for fiercenes and wildness.
And yet, sitting here in my chair for my afternoon silent time
there is something new.
Noise.
The birds are filling my ears with sound.
Dafodills. Tulips. Snow drops, and all sorts of other emergent plants are embracing the light.
If you look closely the trees are developing buds
and I swear the grass is greener today than it was a week ago.

The sun is warm to me when she appears.
And yet this wind pushes with it's own will.
Snow, and ice, and rain all his forms.

There is a story in March that is about change.
That change is hard, and wild, and loud.
Sometimes change is sudden and sometimes it is subtle
change is rarely easy, even when it is relief.

Earth and wind
Sky and rain
Sun and cloud
Blessed Be.

Change and growth
Drama and Pain
Broken and mending
Blessed be.

Exposed earth.
and hidden bud.
Plans so close and too far.
Liminal today.
Blessed Be.