March is the month of mud and music. We began with an eight inch snowfall on March 5, Ash Wednesday. Huge winds beat a tarantella all night, creating hard stops before our doors.

A good time to bubble up the last of our fish in chowder and whip up lattes.

Michael has been painting the future stairwell. It’s the middle orange area. I am thrilled that the tonal change I planned years ago visually plays.

The melt started on March 12th. Zeke was walking me past this swamp when I heard a series of sharp cracks. I found water gurgling through the culvert, where the ice dam had broken. The level had sunk enough so the film of ice on top was dropping, creating the creaking and rimshots that caught my ear. I had never witnessed this before!

I also heard these icicles crash all at once in a grand crescendo of breaking glass. Yikes!

Frogs leave these holes in our yard and begin to sing. The Sandhills, cardinals, and robins join the chorus. *3/18: I heard the first blackbirds trill and grouse thrum.

March, a time for singing the joy of life, celebrating young and old: a first for Imogen, a hundredth for Roger, our dear friend. L’Chaim!