31/03/2026
not always in sync with the kawarthas as this site is in virginia...but if you luv nature it s a wonderful site to follow...
Hello, I'm March. And I'm leaving tonight.
You expected me to arrive as spring. I didn't. I arrived as the last act of winter — ice, gray skies, bare trees, frozen soil. You were disappointed. You said "it still feels like winter." You checked the calendar twice.
I wasn't late. You were early.
Here's what I did while you were waiting for flowers.
I thawed your soil. Inch by inch, from the surface down. The frost line that was eighteen inches deep in February retreated to six, then three, then gone. Everything that overwinters in the top four inches — the bees, the beetles, the earthworms, the salamanders — felt the change before you did. They were moving before the first crocus opened.
I brought the dawn chorus from four species to twelve. The robin was singing alone on March 1. By tonight she's one voice in a choir that includes the cardinal, the Song Sparrow, the Carolina Wren, the Tufted Titmouse, the Brown Thrasher, the Eastern Towhee, the chickadee, and three species that weren't here when I started.
I returned the Osprey to the platform. The Phoebe to the bracket. The Tree Swallow to the nest box. I sent the Junco north and the Fox Sparrow through. I held the Hermit Thrush for two weeks and let him sing at dusk before sending him to Canada.
I broke the ice on the pond. I put the turtles back on the log. I pushed the first warm rain through on a Thursday night and watched the salamanders cross the road.
I built more nests than you'll ever find. I started more eggs than you'll count. I added seventy-five minutes of daylight and I crossed the equinox line and I didn't look back.
April will get the credit. April has the warblers and the wildflowers and the baby animals and Earth Day. April is the pretty one. I'm the one that made April possible.
I'm March. I'm the month that did the work nobody sees.
You're welcome. Good luck in April. She moves faster than I do.
