‘March’ is a sharp word, brusque and bracing, like its month. ‘January’, ‘February’; they meander like rivers; ‘April’ is like the sound of raindrops on the windowpane; but ‘March’ is a gust of wind flinging grit. — Adrian Bell, A Countryman’s Spring Notebook
I read these words yesterday morning as the sun was just rising, welcoming the meteorological spring… and I am very eager for it. Of course, Mr. Bell’s beautiful words reminded me of other beautiful words… Maurice Sendak wrote of the March winds blowing in a door and spilling soup upon the floor… and the best part: Blowing once, blowing twice, blowing chicken soup with rice. Yes, bring on those March winds!
Yesterday, as if on queue, I watched the winds blow the delicate Snowdrops… their blossoms swaying on thin stems, yet they are sturdier than they look! Snowdrops, who straddle winter and spring in the very best way. Snow cannot defeat them, nor can the early March wind… they sway delicately as a few brave bees buzz around them. In my corner of the world, they are the earliest flower that offers something sweet to bees who wake after a winter’s slumber.
I recorded the return of the Red-winged Blackbirds last week at my feeders, the earliest I have ever seen them. They joined a trio of juncos searching for seeds in the still sleeping grass. A reminder that these two seasons, Winter and Spring, like to play a good game of tug of war before one relinquishes to the other. Yes that means a month where all the weather’s can happen… even summer takes a turn here in the south hills of Pittsburgh. (Yes, we have a forecast for temperatures in the 70’s [F] here this week, sigh.)
I spent most of the winter… wintering. It was a season that understood my grieving and settled in around me like a comforting blanket. Dark mornings where I could walk quietly in the silence. As January gave way to February, it seemed to me that the gradual increase in daylight was somehow timed to ease me out of that deep grief, I know it was not… but it felt as if the earth was very much a participant in my grief process. And now my early walks are not in dark (at least until we turn the clocks back next weekend, grrr) and it is no longer silent. I am accompanied by birdsong… Song Sparrows are the first to jump on the Spring is Coming Train… their melodious chorus is so loud! Robin’s soon join in and Carolina Wren’s as well.
I want to steep myself in spring as deeply as I did winter, except I know that won’t be as easy as I am imagining. Spring is a lot more everything happening all at once, everywhere, all at the same time… so don’t blink because you will miss it. So I am adjusting my schedule to make more space for the delight that is spring. A good schedule shake up is not always welcome, but I think it will be a very good thing so I can spend more time appreciating the wonders of March. Rilke writes frequently about this desire: want the change. I think there is some wisdom in that edict… change happens without our control, so rather than fighting change, I am contemplating how to be a Wanter of Change… and March is a very good month for that!
Yes, welcome March. I am so happy you are here!
It was a gorgeous weekend here in Eastern PA. Saturday was really a Spring day. I have not seen Red Winged Blackbirds yet, but Fletch has and Colin has been hearing them. Overall bird chatter is certainly louder these days! Spring has never been a favorite season for me, but this year I am really looking forward to enjoying it.
We’ve still got plenty of snow on the ground, but thanks to a relatively warm weekend, we’ve also got plenty of grass. I walked all over looking for my snowdrops and couldn’t find any. I don’t know if they were crushed by all of snow, the squirrels dug them up, or something else happened, but I need to plant some more for next year. I may have to read some Rilke myself. Wanting the change is kind of a foreign concept to me but I’d like to read what Rilke says. Thanks!
Our weekend was snowy but today we have a very blue Minnesota sky. Perfect for thinking about spring.
We’ve had some very bright and sunny days here so far, and the crocus (croci?!) are up in my mum and dad’s garden. A bit battered by train and wind but holding their own, just like you said.
I’ll think about that today — want the change. Thanks for this beautiful segue to March.
If you’ve not heard it, see if you can find Carole King’s version of “Chicken Soup with Rice” — it’s delightful! Each time we change the clock, I hate it. I know it means more daylight this time, but I hate that we have to lose an hour of sleep to get it. Of course, in the fall, I like gaining an hour but hate that it gets darker earlier. We can’t win! I wish we’d just pick one and stick with it. I am glad that your grief feels like it’s receding along with winter, though I’m sure that, like the season, it will surprise you now and then to remind you it’s still there. Remember to be like those snowdrops and be resilient!
Even though I don’t like the concept of “losing an hour,” I always seem to adjust to the spring time change easier than I do the fall time change. My guess is . . . it’s the light. Who knows? Everything seems to feel brighter and lighter in the spring; more hopeful somehow. Wanting-the-change seems a good mantra for the season. XO
Brave little snowdrops. I did walk past a bed that contained a yellow crocus or two this week. Juncos still come to the feeders in our yard so winter may have one more story to tell.
We still have snow everywhere so no flowers yet although normally I’d have crocus and snow drops by now and my hellebores would be showing signs of life, too. We’re supposed to be heading into a warming trend and I’m hoping for LOTS of MELTING. That’s the change I’m wanting right now.
where are my snowdrops??? I’m glad you have them. I walked outside once this week when the winds were minimal and I soaked in the birdsong and blue skies! I want to be present during the spring season as well.