I’m going to take a stab and say it was 1990. Kindergarten at Millville Elementary was going well. Colors, sights, sounds, words, letters and new friends flooded my infantile neural pathways and exploded into a mash of incoherent repetition of blerbs as I reported on my class to my mother. One lesson was memorable. We were learning about March.
It comes in like a lion with angry gray paper rain clouds, and out like a lamb with Elmer’s-glued-on cotton ball sheep and yellow sunshine.
March 2 saw record-breaking low temperatures (-5 overnight, 5 during the day) in Omaha that had us all bundled up, wishing it all to be over. Temperatures have been in a steady climb, and Sunday March 9 is looking to be in the 60’s.
March in the Southeast is like a pretty red head in a short skirt. We are always glad to see her, she will show you a little leg, flash you a smile and when you least except it stab you with an icicle. Back shortly after the Jurassic age, when I was a freshman in college, 4 buddies and I swam across a small cove in Sardis Lake in north Mississippi during the first week in March. It snowed the next three Wednesday with enough snow for college kids to play in each time. In March 1993, my son came home at spring break, Atlanta was hit with an ice storm, Birmingham got 13” of ice and snow. Birmingham was still shutdown a week later, he returned to Ms State through Montgomery a 100 miles south.
When I drove home from Lake Superior Tech School back to Two Harbors, there was a hillside near the MN Duluth U that would fill up with sunbathers enjoying the first strong rays of March and April. Hill got a great shot of the afternoon sun and we got a great of bikini clad students. While we’re enjoying those March temps here in western OK my kid called and he spent yesterday snowmobiling back home. That’s why retirement put MN in the rear view mirror for me.
