In the Bleak Endwinter

Well, it's March. I spent a good chunk of January out of the country and the weeks before and after either getting ready for the trip or catching up from being away. So. Now it's March. Daffodils and tulips are selling in the outdoor deli stalls again, both affordable and cheerful. It's still cold and gray; there may even be more snow in our immediate future. And yet, nature's clock and my old internal clock hint of milder breezes and spring green buds.

Busyness seems to rule my life right now - at work, with Elegant Scribbles, with family - and all of it is good, hopeful busyness. I must confess, however, that the outside world is depressing beyond belief right now. It was ever thus. When it seems all is going to hell in a handbasket, I reread a few chapters of  Barbara Tuchman's brilliant A Distant Mirror and realize things ain't so bad.

Still, I'm avoiding anything having to do with the following: popes/cardinals, sequester, sinkholes, guns, mean people, stupid people, Harlem Shake (which the current iteration ain't), and that creepy Chico's cougar. You understand, just to keep my spirits up during my non-busy times. There's a good reason the March hare was mad, I reckon.

The endwinter doesn't have to be so bleak if you have plenty to do, plenty to read, plenty to eat, and plenty to look forward to. And know what to avoid (see above list). Plus, baseball season's just around the corner.

For now, I'm off to buy a bunch of daffodils.