march is the cruelest month

yesterday it rained all day. most of our snow melted. the exposed wet earth smelled loamy and intoxicating. over night the rain turned to snow, and now our world is once again blanketed in white. oh march, you are by the cruelest of all the months. a trickster. a bait-n-switcher. a false-promiser. a yo-yoing gamer. predictably unpredictable. i know you have never actually promised me anything, and yet i felt the warmth in your sunshine, and i hoped, this year it would be different. this year, spring would arrive in march. but alas, you always have the final word, march. you always will.

over-wintered oak leaves with spring rains