March

Here it is the second week of March already. I am back after finishing my seasonal work at the university last week and regrouping. I survived the tough winter, although it isn't finished with us yet. We are getting snow and bitter cold tomorrow, but temperatures are now fluctuating and beginning to rise well above freezing on occasion, too.

Today, for example, was gorgeous. Everyone was out with the sun, including the chipmunks, who provided Freddy with hours of entertainment on the other side of the patio doors. Numerous fallen branches magically appeared as the snow melted. I even saw a bee out and about as I did a bit of cleanup in one of the back beds. So, I joined in the revelry, no jacket required, and went out to prune NOLD's beloved pear tree as well as a couple of rhododendron I had missed last fall.

I was able to check off one small task from an unbelievably long to do list I made last week. Winter and work stunned me into silence and relative inaction this time around. One moment I felt like hibernating and the next like sprinting to the finish to get work and the essentials of our family life completed. So, I am getting my feet back under me in this time of year, which is in various ways the month of March. Yet, the words still flow and cheer the soul with the passing of the days as well as the Ides.

March On

Voices lost in snow

Bodies wrapped in down

Lungs filled with cold

Steps slowed with care

March on, march on

Arctic air drops down South uninvited

Flakes fall frenzied and unappreciated

White no longer speaks to the soul

Deep slumber eludes the long nights

March on, march on

Sun stops mid-day, radiant at the window

Soil awakens to a slow drip from the eves

Stream trips and falls, calling for attention

Spirit thaws in anticipation and takes flight

March on, march on

Green once unseen springs forth eternal

Tulips shout in chorus below the mailbox

Nests wait empty but certain in thick branches

Day stretches and sends moon for cloudy cover

March on, march on

Voices raised in song

Bodies freed to breathe

Lungs filled with scent

Steps danced in time

March on, march on

Winter

January was incredibly busy for me as I returned to my admissions work at the university. Of course, January was also incredibly cold this winter which makes hunkering down at my desk in front of two computer screens far more palatable. This weekend, we hit freezing during the day, meaning I could hear the birds outside the window in the morning and the deer came to rest in the sun.

Days are lengthening. To be sure the progress is slow but nonetheless still noted and embraced.

“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me the most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive.” James Baldwin

As usual, I have a trio of books to share. These fiction works all revolve around the theme of winter. In line with James Baldwin's words, reading is a wonderful way to share experiences across space and time, including that of a long and difficult winter. Take a peek:

• A Week in Winter by Maeve Binchy
• Winter Bloom by Tara Heavey
• Winter Garden by Kristin Hannah

I am still reading Winter Bloom but thought I would share these works before the cold weather passes. (Yes, it will pass.) All three are easy and enjoyable reads perfect for this time of year, especially in front of the fire or curled up beneath a down comforter.

I did find the third book, Winter Garden, particularly moving. It takes the reader back to the Seige of Leningrad undertaken by the Germans in WWII, during one of the coldest winters on record, in the form of a fairy tale. Both creative and compelling, I think I was really able to relate to the story line due to my German heritage and memories of days spent in the Eastern Block and Soviet Union before the Iron Curtain fell.

I so appreciate how reading connects us to our humanity in its most flawed and heroic forms. Music can do so, too. After finishing Winter Garden on a cold but clear winter night, I was reminded of the song Leningrad by Billy Joel , a master storyteller in his own right. Connections and more connections and more connections to come.