Last year, when I would go over to the nursing home, Kathryn, Clara and I would look out the window at drab, drab, seemingly endless March, and sigh, “It feels like March is never going to end.” Now, this year, with snow, ice and cold since January, topped off with “the nasal cold from Hell” and last Wednesday’s “Here’s a bucket of slush in your face!”, I am thinking that Wow, already March is half over. And, today, for the first time in a month, I made it back over. Kathryn was at a St. Patrick’s Day party. She had two cupcakes and I had a green cookie and we both had a bit of green punch.
Knocking on wood, I plan to go back on Wednesday. It’s supposed to be 50 degrees. Maybe a funnel will lift me . . . Obviously this winter has spooked me.