Spring??!!

A little bird may have told you that spring is here. Clearly, that bird has not found its way back to New Hampshire, or it would know that we are in the midst of mud season, and spring has not yet sprung in our neck of the woods. While the rest of the country is enjoying tulips and cherry blossoms, we are getting pelted with freezing rain and shoveling out from our most recent snowstorm.

March is aptly named for the Roman God of war, when even the ground is in revolt. Freezing and thawing cycles send angry frost heaves to invade our roads and wage battle with the suspension in our trucks and our backs.

Sure, the Ides of March may signal the equinox, that precarious balance between light and dark, but Shakespeare reminds us that this month is marked by betrayal and instability (just ask Julius Caesar or Jesus). Google weather in New Hampshire in March and you’ll get Note: March is a transition month, meaning it is prone to dramatic shifts between lingering winter conditions and early spring warmth. I should come with such a warning. Note: Tracy is in transition and prone to dramatic shifts between lingering winter delight in skiing, variable spring temper-tantrums, and an occasional sunny disposition.

I should be grateful that the dark days of winter are behind us, but at least in January, you know what you’re getting. I may crave the warmth that is on its way, but my heart has not adjusted to the energetic demands of more daylight. It is hard to get excited for kayaking when I look out over a frozen gray lake. I face March like a bear stumbling out from her den – hungry, groggy, and a little pissed off.

My yard says it all. The fluffy white blanket of snow has retreated, leaving sentries of crusty mounds of dirt and ice to guard a muddy yard full of Otis’s landmines and a litany of spring tasks.

Sure, the stores are full of Easter dresses and white shoes, but why bother? Often, my kids wore down coats and winter boots as they tromped through a muddy yard in search of the Easter Bunny’s offerings.

I’m not bitter, just a little cold still. But I’ll be patient because I know this season will pass quickly. And when it does, I’ll be ready to welcome the sun, the tulips, and even that braggy little bird.