March Madness

March is here, and it’s as crazy as ever. It’s raining hard one minute, and the next minute the sun is shining. All this to the steady hum of the
wind, hammering against my window. Every time I look out, it’s blowing in a different direction—tree branches bowing every which way, shrubs bent to the ground, bits of debris scuttling up and down the street. It’s a kaleidoscope of frenetic activity.

No wonder it seems like sheer madness out there. After all, we have been through a lot, years of social isolation, spending time indoors, giving up our group activities. Through it all, we have trained ourselves to be patient and rein in our pent-up energy.

But now, I’d like to think it’s all over. I’d like to see the end of social distancing and the end of notices about mask-wearing. I’d especially like to see the end of the odious vaccine passports.

I’m as socially responsible as the most cautious among us. Along with almost everyone else, I’ve followed the mandates to a ‘T’. But it has lasted a long time, I’m tired of it and I’d dearly like it to end. I’m ready to return to a semblance of tranquility and calm.

In my January 17 post, a little over a year ago, I wrote about regaining this state of being, optimistically titling it ‘Returning to a Sense of
Calm’.

I took it seriously, striving to control my thoughts through meditation and activities like walking and writing (about topics other than the pandemic). To some extent, it worked. For here I am, still enthusiastic, still full of hope.

A new season is just around the corner. I look forward to it with unbridled anticipation. I am full of gratitude for my place in life and for my many blessings. And yes, for another chance to appreciate the beauty and promise of another spring.

Poets have always been inspired by spring. Here are a few poems for you to enjoy:

A. E. Housman, ‘Loveliest of trees, the cherry now‘.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow…

Emily Dickinson, ‘A Light Exists in Spring‘.

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period –
When March is scarcely here
A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels…

Christina Rossetti, ‘Spring‘.

There is no time like Spring,
When life’s alive in everything,
Before new nestlings sing,
Before cleft swallows speed their journey back
Along the trackless track –
God guides their wing,
He spreads their table that they nothing lack, –
Before the daisy grows a common flower
Before the sun has power
To scorch the world in his noontide hour…