It's mild. Thick, dark clouds fill the sky. So much of the snow mounds have melted revealing green pine/spruce bushes on all sides of the yard which I had forgotten ever existed. All the trees are budding, but the maple which hangs on tight to its brown, crunchy leaves.
A gust of wind and all of my previous journal entries fly from my notebook. I frantically collect many as I can while watching others blow over the fence to the park. I follow the wind and find 3 pages blown against the south side of the north-facing fence. Its a north wind. Hoping I have gathered them all, I retreat back to my yard.
The sun pokes through the clouds. The birds cling to the branches high in their favorite tree. The moss on the wall is still green. The cluster of white flowers remains on the largest vine. The Rose of Sharon is still partially covered in snow at its base and still I can not tell if it is one, two or three trees. A small tree grows to the height of the lowest branches on the maple and the two compete for sun and even perhaps nutrients.
Wind, wind, wind blusters and howls. March starts tomorrow and it seems it is coming in like a lion. As the wind blows it carries seeds from place to place, blows dead leaves off trees, readying the earth for spring.