Sometimes I think that March in New England was invented to teach us patience. I was so delighted when daylight savings time added an hour of daylight to the afternoon. I know, I know, technically , we lost an hour. But I don’t choose to look at it that way. In my view, that extra hour in the afternoon encourages snow to melt and buds to open. The fat buds on the lilac bush are just playing a waiting game at this point.
We had a 50 degree day a few days ago that made total strangers smile at one another and extoll the beauty of the day. That was then; this is now. The little yellow crocus that caused me to wax poetic is hiding under a blanket of ice and snow. Hopefully, the leaves that we neglected to rake last Fall will keep it warm until the sun decides to rule once more.
I feel like those buds. Part of me can’t wait to open the windows and doors and revel in warmth of a sunny afternoon. Another part of me is content to stay tucked until the time is right to forgo soup for salad, and to head for the bike path instead of the treadmill.
From the Book of Ecclesiastes via Pete Seeger, “To Everything, There Is A Season.”