March is that odd time of year that is neither winter nor spring, but somehow both.
It’s meteorological spring, but until the 21st, it’s astrological winter. And it’s also not what it used to be.
The old adage “March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb” might have applied once upon a time. Even in my lifetime, we had winter that showed up in November or early December and stayed into March or early April. The ground stayed frozen, usually snow-covered. Ski areas could operate without snowmaking equipment. Snowmobilers could ride local trails. Those who enjoyed ice skating or ice fishing could easily find frozen waterbodies on which to enjoy those pastimes.
Not anymore.
We may yet get one of those huge spring snowstorms that seem to come around late in the season every year or two just to show us who’s boss, but this winter followed the recent trend of hardly being winter at all.
Well, around here, anyway.
California was bracing this week for a possible 10 feet of snow in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Ten feet. And that’s just days after we saw something most of us have never seen — people paddling kayaks in the famously dry — but currently flooded — salt flats of Death Valley National Park.
Remember all those years California was under drought conditions? I guess atmospheric rivers — a term with which we non-meteorologists were unfamiliar until recently — have changed that. My understanding of California’s weather might be superficial, though. I was talking just last week with a friend who lives in The Golden State. She said the moisture from the Pacific Ocean largely passes over the interior of the state until it hits the aforementioned mountains. Still, if the water’s up there, it’s going to come down. That’s what water does, after all.
People in the Midwest have had summer-like weather. Texas is dealing with enormous wildfires, fueled by hot, dry weather in what should be a moderate season.
Winter? Hardly.
But coming back to the Northeast, even in what we used to consider normal years, March was a time of transition. This year’s lack of snow and early arrival of mud season may have accelerated that.
Many gardeners have already thoroughly examined their seed catalogs and ordered the seeds they need to produce the flowers and vegetables they enjoy. They might have some started indoors. Lacking their patience, I’ll buy plants from a nursery and put them in the ground some time around Memorial Day.
But I definitely look around as I leave the house in the morning, noticing the damage winter has inflicted on my lawn and trees, and beginning to think about a plan to deal with it. I look at the deck furniture, safely stowed away in the basement, and wonder when it will be prudent to bring it out again.
The barbecue grill, covered and dormant these long months, beckons.
I think about springtime recreation. Trout season is less than a month away, now. I’ve already watched some spring training baseball, knowing the games that count are coming soon.
I don’t watch golf or NASCAR on TV, but lots of people do, and spring brings those, too.
We’ll move the clocks forward in a week and begin Daylight Saving Time. It’ll mean less daylight in the mornings for a while, but I think we all love that extra hour of light at the end of the day.
Those are some of the transitions March brings. Unlike the weather, people and their habits are pretty predictable, at least societally. Individually is another matter.
I’ve observed that most people dislike change but enjoy novelty. The transition of seasons suits that dynamic well. It’s a change, but to something familiar and comfortable.
So, here’s to lions and lambs, and baseball and barbecues, and to March, in all its wonderful unpredictability.