The shad have finally arrived. The herring-like fish symbolize the awakening of a new, untested season. To those alert to such events – the blossoming of daffodils, the migration of a fish, the song of a tree frog – it is obvious that this fresh-minted year has been running late, having been faced with some uncomfortable birthing problems.
When March finally came on deck amid gale-force winds, swirling mist and a generous serving of snow, ice and storm, it was time for this towheaded lass to take her turn at this tiller time of year. The month came in squalling and protesting, with a drippy nose and a serious set of teeth-rattling chills that numbed feet and fingers.
Mankind is delivered into this world saddled with a strange discontentment, forever seeking to attain an illusion, fulfill dreams and fantasies. Fortunately, he is also provided with another consistent inconsistency: shifting gears to match the season. When the weather grows hot, he wishes the temperature would cool down. When it rains, he cannot help but desire sunshine. On those autumn days when falling leaves dance in the winter winds, he dreams of snow and mountain high resorts. Soon bored, he tires of the gray skies and icy roads and cannot fail to desire to hear again the tinkling songs of the awakening tree frogs.
The mythological daughters of Atlas, enshrined in the star cluster Hyades, bring spring rain, anointing the earth. To anticipate is to dream and have faith in the timing of natural events before they occur. March skies bring a clearing of the gray haze of winter’s tired and worn days, to be replaced by a dazzling background of spring’s azure-painted heavens.