Marching On

The color palette of this month is dreary to say the least: red brick, dull sodden green, muddy brown, slate gray, murky silver, monochrome beige. The snow has pretty much receded, leaving muddy dregs and resurfaced ancient trash mixed with sodden leaf-pulp. The widened streets and sidewalks are bleak, especially during the recent cold rain. It felt more like November than March.

The old saying, “March comes in like a lion and leaves like a lamb” has no meaning in Maine, where it’s more like the lion is in mortal battle with other lions. This morning, for example, my dog and I (see I Have a Dog) were assaulted by gale winds that plastered our faces and eyes with grit and sand. During our walk a brief snow squall erupted, sending cascades of thick white flakes whirling about in an unsettling reminder that WINTER is not over YET.

There was a wind advisory today, with a maximum gusts of 45 mph recorded in this area. During a blustery trip to the grocery store I saw a huge telephone pole swaying. The danger this time of year comes from flying objects — anything from tree branches to roof flashing might come crashing down. It also happened to be the neighborhood’s trash/recycling day. For some reason the City requires open recycling containers; thus the streets were awash with cereal boxes, food items, cardboard, newspapers, and other detritus.

The immediate future does not look bright, with Arctic air returning, according to the National Weather Service: “A light snowfall will pass just south of the area Friday. On its heels an Arctic air mass will move across the region Friday night with bitter cold temperatures.” Saturday shows a high of 13 degrees with a low of 4. Then there’s the wind chill and the “real feel” to factor in. I also heard a rumor in the streets today of a snowstorm arriving next week. Back to soup (see Soup, Soup, and More Soup), origami (see Darned Socks and Origami)  and Netflix. . .

The front garden March 8, 2017.

 

 

March

It’s the end of February and March is nigh. My boss always used to say, “I have no use for March.” Winter’s not quite over and spring hasn’t quite begun at this time of year. There’s plenty of mud, slush, and so forth to look forward to over the next month.

 Thanks to climate change, the last week has been unseasonably warm, with temps in the 40s and 50s. The sidewalks are finally clear and one is free to walk wherever one likes at last, without fearing risk of injury or death. I am so grateful I could weep.

Nonetheless, it’s not pretty out there. I spend an inordinate amount of time rinsing out muddy dog towels and sweeping acres of sand from every surface of the house. These days the cleanest place to be outside is the beach, but one would have to be air-lifted to avoid the muck and mire.

Already the memories of literally inching my way through the streets are repressing themselves into subconsciousness. The pain and trauma has begun to recede with the ice and snow. Luckily I have this blog to remind me of the truth about winter. Not only that, but colder temps are predicted for the immediate future. It’s not over yet. Not by a long shot.