This is the beautiful River Valley in which I live. Yesterday the March skies and weather filled this basin with wild and conflicting moments. One moment it was sunny and still, with white fluffy clouds; the next a huge grey front lowered in and plunged us into early dusk and a white out squall.

You try and make sense of it and then you remember. It’s March. This is what March does.

Today it’s frigid; tomorrow it may be balmy. All your coats need to be lined up and ready.

This is not cause for complaint; this is cause for celebration. It’s March. Hooray! Make Peace with its dramatic and capricious beauty. (Really is there any other month in which capricious is so frequently used?)