The light is back in New England even if it is chilly, and so the walks with Buddy (Schnauzer) get longer. Along the Charles River, the birds seem glad to be back.
That said, March in Boston is a month of yearning for April,daffs and crocuses. I visited my daughter in North Carolina last weekend, where daffodils were in full evidence and everything else was ready to pop. I know I’m supposed to complain about the misery of winter where I live, and I do get tired of it. But since I don’t have to commute (the consolation of a home office) and am past of the age of needing to get children to school, I don’t suffer so much and feel less of a need to kvetch. My friends and I muse about spending winters elsewhere but where? The only place that seems possible to me is California. But Jim has this thing about earthquakes, and so we’ll plod along in the extremes — walking on the ice in our silly-looking cleats and waddling side-to-side like penguins to avoid slipping.
The change in the season comes like a resurrection. Which is a big deal for a Jew.
BTW: My website is now refurbished, so do check it out: www.anitadiamant.com