Crazy

It’s March! I don’t know why that should make me feel so happy. March is usually a vicious month here. The old March adage “In like a lion, out like a lamb” reads more like “In like a polar bear, out like a half-frozen woodchuck” here in the Allegany Highlands. The calendar might say the first day of spring is just days away now, but the weather says otherwise. I suppose March makes me happy because it feels like at last Winter is going to lose his battle to conquer the world – his days are numbered. I know he will attempt a coup or two as his time wanes, but he will succumb soon. That is, unless we’re entering another Ice Age. I read once that some scientists believe that previous ice ages arrived very suddenly with freezing air hurling from the poles and glaciers forming rapidly. They’ve found the remains of mastodons, wooly rhinos, and other ancient beasts that they thought were flash frozen. In March I can believe such things are possible.

These days I’m on a constant lookout for any signs of spring. The Red-winged Blackbirds and Common Grackles arrived last week and are regular visitors at my feeders now. I was watching for robins, but hadn’t seen any and thought that for once they’d been smart and stayed south until April. But then on Friday, just ahead of a winter storm, they showed up in flocks. On the local ponds there have been reported sightings of migrating waterfowl – Common and Hooded Mergansers (I’ve seen them), Ring-necked Ducks (haven’t seen them yet), Goldeneyes (haven’t seen them yet), and Tundra Swans (haven’t seen them either). Out in the garden, the snowdrops are still blooming despite being buried under snow repeatedly. A solitary yellow crocus popped up, but no others yet. There are a few violas blooming in spots with their tiny pansy faces. The buds on the trees are swelling. I can feel spring huddling under the earth, waiting for some warmth to break free.

Snowdrops still blooming.

Solitary crocus.

Brave violas.

We got hit by another winter storm this weekend. It started snowing just as I got home from school on Friday. Within an hour the ground was white. By Saturday morning it was three inches deep. We haven’t had big accumulations of snow this winter. It snows and then it melts. Our son Daniel and his wife Raven were in the mountains of Southern California at my nephew Dax’s house during those big West Coast storms. They had over eight feet of snow dumped on them. I’m glad we can’t make the same claim. This weekend’s storm ruined our plans to go to the temple yesterday.

After school on Friday.

On this day 60 years ago, March 5, 1963, Patsy Cline died in a plane crash near Camden, Tennessee. She was 30 years old. I was five years old and completely unaware of the tragedy. Growing up, my family didn’t listen to her music. We didn’t have a radio in our car and I don’t remember having a radio in the house either. If we had one, it wasn’t tuned to a country station. We had a record player, but all our records were classical music. I think my first exposure to her music began in the 70's in snatches from those TV commercials that aired on Saturday afternoons between pro wrestling, roller derby, and Hee Haw that offered Fifty of Country Music’s Greatest Hits for Just $29.99! My interest in her music came much later, in the early 90's. Back then, I used to go to Tower Records on Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks, California, and wander around looking for anything that caught my eye. That’s how I’d discovered some great classical recordings, but also how I first met the music of Ella Fitzgerald, Windham Hill records, and other music. And that’s how I found Patsy Cline. Her Greatest Hits CD was in a bargain bin and, on a whim, I bought it and took it home. She has been a beloved part of our family ever since. We love her music. My children grew up singing and dancing to it. We still listen to her frequently. There are days when the only music that seems to fit is Patsy Cline.

Tower Records on Ventura Blvd.

Patsy Cline's Greatest Hits Album.

Last week, as we approached the 60th anniversary of her death, we listened to her songs almost every day. They are mostly songs about heartbreak, failed love, and shattered romances. She has a powerful voice, perfect for such songs and her style is perfect. From what I’ve read, her life was hard at times, but it seems to me that she was a kind person. On Thursday, while I was at school, I took a survey to see how many students and faculty knew who Patsy Cline was and, if they did, could they name one of her songs. Out of the 52 students (grades 9 – 12) I asked, only 4 knew who she was and only 2 of those could name a song. Out of 12 faculty, all of them knew of her, 11 could name a song (usually Crazy), and three said she was one of their favorite singers. If you don’t know her songs (you surely have at least heard Crazy) you should take some time and listen to her sing. She is wonderful.

Patsy Cline

I start to feel a bit crazy when these winter storms come so late in the season. In years past, I’ve given in to the craziness and, in desperation to take a swipe at winter’s obstinacy, I’ve started my seed trays too early. I’m wiser now. I’m not starting so many seeds this year. Last year we got a little crazy and planted too many tomatoes and peppers. This year we will be more moderate. I’ll only do a dozen or so of each (last year we planted a hundred) and they don’t need to be started until the first week in April. I will be strong. If I start them too soon, they get too long and spindly before planting out day comes in June. My garden has a theme this year. Rachel decided she wants to grow a purple (her favorite color) garden this year and she gave me purple vegetable and flower seeds for Christmas so I can start them and then share some of the starts with her. Purple vegetables are really good for you, too. The purple color comes from high levels of antioxidants, particularly anthocyanins that help lower high blood pressure, reduce the risk of heart disease, improve brain function, and slow the growth of cancers. Beautiful and healthy, a great combination.

My purple seed collection.

If we had gone to the temple yesterday, we would have been gone most of the day. Because we decided at the last minute to stay home, I had an unplanned day at my disposal and I decided to thumb my nose at the weather by spending the morning sorting seeds. I have two seed boxes – one for vegetable seeds and one for flower seeds. Every year I buy new seed to replace what I used the year before. Some seed has limited germination viability and I have to sort those out. So I opened my seed boxes and spread the bags full of seed packets out on the dining room table. I noted which ones are running low and which are past their limit. I read most of the packets. I noted their starting times – 10 weeks before planting day, 8 weeks, six weeks, four weeks, which ones get planted directly in the garden after the danger of frost is past, and noted them on my planting calendar. It was a wonderful way to spend a few hours on a snowy Saturday morning.

Seed sorting.

Today it is just above freezing. The snow has gone slushy. There are puddles forming everywhere and the driveway has turned to mud. Our church services were very good today. It was Fast Sunday and the testimonies borne were great. Now we are home. We haven’t broken our fast yet. Lunch preparations are underway – hamburgers and home fries – and the smell is making me salivate. Looking at the week ahead, the weather looks like winter is still winning the battle, but not by much. It won’t be long before the world will be full of flowers again.