Springing forward and one step back
March, proving that it's indeed my least favorite month. Plus, ramblings on summer parenting and the continuing surprises of empty nesting.
Time right now is a paradox, more so than usual. I want the days to slow down as much as I want the next few weeks to speed up. What is it about March that makes it the least favorite month for so many? Obviously, the weather, for one.
New York City barely got a dusting of snow this winter. This has been the story for the last several years—which isn’t typical by the way, but the abnormal is becoming the norm. I remember when the kids were younger, having to scramble to buy snow boots early in the season to avoid being caught unprepared for the dirty city slush that we’d inevitably have to trudge through at least a few times a season, but we haven’t had to pull our snow boots out of the closet at all.
We did get some pretty miserable wintry weather recently when a Nor’easter blew in and dumped a foot of snow just north of us, but the snow didn’t make it down to the city. It was enough for me, however, to profess that I was officially done with winter.
Notes from my sabbatical/not sabbatical
I’m writing this on the first day of spring with so much anticipation of warmth, light, and new life, except that it’s still cold outside because it’s March. Even though I kind of hate the twice yearly daylight savings ritual, when 6pm rolls around and I’m basking in the sunlight that’s streaming brilliantly into my bedroom at this hour, I sing a different tune.
I’m also reminded today, the first day of spring, that I’ve now been writing again for an entire season. In rereading one of my very first newsletters, I wrote about the moment of clarity I reached when I realized I was happy on one of my daily walks on a particularly foggy, drizzly day. I ask myself today, four months later (and it’s is apparently International Day of Happiness!) if I still feel the same. The answer is…sort of?