I hope this finds you doing well. I am fine in spite of the harrowing times we face. It is that time of year when things shift. It truly feels like the shift is being compressed this year. The weather has shifted a couple of weeks early. It was 70 a couple of days last week. If that weren't enough, the Wizards of Time thought that it would be a good thing move Daylight Savings Time to early March a couple of years ago. This exposes us to that YouTube video about the horrors of DST. You haven't seen it? Don't worry. Get a few more hipper friends on Facebook, and it will show up on a news feed near you. We also face that awkward moment when St. Patrick's day is in the middle of the week. It is a question of timing and propriety. "Do I go out a drink green beer this weekend, next weekend, or like a true Irishman do I go out and get a weeklong drunk on?"
Yes it is a week of tumult and tempest. We are tossed to and fro by these mighty forces arrayed against us. We are gripped in the madness of March. "Beware the Ides of March" could be restated as I'd rather just skip March. Like Caesar, we would be better off with out it.
Can you feel it? For me it is palpable. It is 70 during the day; 50's at night. I walk to the bedroom at night and look at the warm flannel sheets and I struggle. I don't want to wake up at 3:00 in the morning in a sweat. I know that the cotton would be cooler. Those uncomfortable moments can be a thing of the past if I just change out the flannel sheets. Then I despair. I know that the second the sheets are changed a cold front will slam through the northern plains and leave me shivering in the night catching my death and lingering a couple of months to expire in the month of May; our month of memories.
No, leave the bed cloths alone. Be a good example for the trees. They are on the cusp. They are nearly ready to release their buds. We are just a few degree days away from bud emergence. If that happens, that cold front that will leave me low will kill those young apples, cherries, peaches, and plums. I still remember three years ago when we had no apples. Driving by the Apple Barn looking at that fore lorn sign "Closed;No Crop." It may be best if I do succumb in May if I have to face another winter of South American Apples.
I had a young man perfectly sum up my feelings of DST this morning at church. Here is his picture.
As an eyewitness to the events leading up to the moment of this collapse, I attest to the fact that he was barely able to make it this far. And I was sad that propriety kept me from laying down too.
To all of you who feel this way, take a day or two off, go down to the local pub and get your Irish on early. I do feel for all of you leprechaunic sympathizers out there. Your posts have been the the right amount of whiney. It sounds like you have trouble deciding if you should drink the weekend before or the weekend after. It sounds like the conundrum of the ages; right up there with "tastes great - less filling", paper or plastic, and Bernie or Hillary. With such a weighty question and our propensity to make decisiveness a negative attribute since a decisive person can not be a considered person, you do what any sane, considered person would do. You go out and drink both weekends. Good luck with that.
As the lovely Miss Beverly and I drive home from visiting Chris and Grace in East Lansing, I bask in the glow of getting away for a weekend. It was nice to get away from some of these concerns for a while. It is that bit of distance and the promise of better things to come that allows me to pen this limerick.
They say the Irish drink beer
I fear DST every year.
It still will get cold,
Or so I am told
I'd be okay if March weren't so drear.
The time, the beer, and the cold.
March as a month makes me old.
The relief that I seek
Give the sun just a peek
A year without March would be gold.
So yes, it's a March filled with madness
I gained weight I can't fit in my dress
The weather will turn.
My skin, it will burn
On the beach, this summer I'll de-stress.
It will be okay.
Take care.
Roger.
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