Good morning!
It’s Saturday. Overnight, while we were all soundly asleep in our beds, February tiptoed out the door and March took her place.
Whose wings are these, whooshing across the sky? Are they coming or going? Do they bring a message, or are they erasing the chalkboard to make room for new words?
“Dear March—Come in—
How glad I am—
I hoped for you before—
Put down your Hat—
You must have walked—
How out of Breath you are—
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest—
Did you leave Nature well—
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me—
I have so much to tell—I got your Letter, and the Birds—
The Maples never knew that you were coming—
I declare - how Red their Faces grew—
But March, forgive me—
And all those Hills you left for me to Hue—
There was no Purple suitable—
You took it all with you—Who knocks? That April—
Lock the Door—
I will not be pursued—
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied—
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come”—Emily Dickinson
Onwards we go,
Clara
Do any of you remember hearing when March comes in like lion it goes out like a lamb and when March comes in like a lamb it goes out like a lion.
March did happen. A lovely welcome..thank you.
First farm market of March😌