"In like a lion, out like a lamb; in like a lamb, out like a lion" notwithstanding, we Midwesterners never really know what to expect of March. This year has been a prime example. When I left nearly two weeks ago, March was warm enough to make me wonder why I was going. When I returned, snow nestled in the shaded places around hedgerows. And this year isn't so different from past years in that respect. Here's a poem about a childhood experience:
On a cold and blustery mid-March day
The wind whirled the snow away,
And there, hidden among the leaves,
Grew violets in winter.