The third month has arrived with a cold steady ache-inducing rain. Not unusual if my memory serves me correctly. I recall more than a few early March days that brought a deluge delaying the planting of my vegetable garden. Never fear, it should be relatively short-lived and no freezing temperatures are involved this time around. My heart truly goes out to all who spent what must have seemed to be endless days without power or plumbing. If you had water service, boiling before consumption was a mandate. Bottled water was hard to find, although having plenty on-hand didn’t make it any easier to bathe. Showering one sixteen-ounce bottle at a time is no picnic after all.
So let it rain and let the March winds blow. Bring on the pollen and the bugs and all the various varmints of Springtime! Just keep the power and water on, right?
The changing of the seasons and the rebirth of Nature that comes with it make March one of my favorite months. Maybe the favorite. Okay, it’s extra-special because March 1st, 1994 marked the arrival of our wonderful son Zak, who came roaring lion-like into the world on a cold South Carolina evening. He became the second person ever, (after daughter Jessica) to call me “Dad.” The sweetest word in my lexicon. Dad, and Mom… two one-of -a-kind titles that bring, pride, joy, self-doubt, apprehension insecurity and humility, and you love it but question whether you’re up to the task. If you’re a parent, you understand. If you get along well with your kids after decades have gone by, I’d say you did something right in the parenting department. But we’re never sure, really. Especially when they reach adulthood, and have acquired their own experiences enough to serve as a whole new lens through which they may well view a parent’s performance in that adult department with a “meh.”
In all honestly though, I’ve been a fan of the month ever since I made my appearance on the planet, thirty years prior to my son, and also in March, on the 21st. Only fitting that he holds a place of high esteem in the hierarchy of “March Greatest Hits.” Day one, no less. But props to baseball’s spring training, March Madness and St. Patty’s Day as well. (I must mourn the brain cells lost to Mickey’s Mean Green.) To steaming platters of mudbugs on a cool evening and thundering afternoon storms. To shorts and flip-flops and cold beers at the fishing hole. Spring break, school’s out let’s go camping! Those first plump tomatoes ripening in the garden and so much more the Vernal Equinox brings with it. And perhaps soon, if we can get ahead of covid-19, a bustling workplace where people interact within a few feet of each other without fear of contamination. We’re getting there. Meanwhile, let it rain, take a nice long nap or plan a green celebration (and I don’t mean environmentally) for the 17th. Think I’ll opt for the nap myself, after just a wee bit more birthday festiveness!
The Birthday Boy, then & now…