The Ides of March have passed and St Patrick’s Day is here. March, the month that comes in like a lion and leaves like a lamb. The month that my mother and my twins were born and the month I was married, the month the plum trees blossom and the clovers cluster just in time for St. Patrick’s Day, and the Full Worm Moon is in the sky. So much beauty happens in March and it is going so quickly away and I am so sorry to see it go. The sweet white blossoms have been shaken by the late winter wind and are on the ground, the bareness of winter is nearly gone and the new green of spring is peeking through the woods, making promises to us. I am trying to notice all that I can for it is all so fleeting and fast. Each time I turn over a scoop of dirt, I see fat earthworms wiggling but just for a second, the hens quickly see their movement and they, well, you know what they do. But then, we get the eggs, eggs filled with golden yokes and nourishment. The strawberries I so painfully planted in November now have little white flowers assuring me of red strawberries in June and the pear trees are filled with tiny pears that can hardly be seen now but will produce more pears than we can eat in August. I love all of the tiny holidays like St. Patrick’s and April Fools -no one has figured out a way to make them too commercial yet – they are still pure. Anyway, time for work. It is so difficult to leave these spring days and enter into a building where I don’t know if it is hot or cold, windy or calm outside. I question myself daily about this choice.