March Madness

During my 6 mile run this morning, I thought about the title of today's post. And contrary to what most may discern from this posting's title, it does not concern NCAA basketball. Don't get me wrong, I love that March Madness. It's the other one which causes me yearly angst.

I speak of course of the March Madness which is the consummate tease.

The one where a mere smattering of back to back 73 degree days causes one to mentally exchange their winter wardrobe for that of shorts, tee shirts and sandals. The one which brings on what seems to be an exponential explosion of Spring's first flowers and the emergence of the first hints of green among the barren limbs of the trees behind my house. The one which brings people out to The Wiley in droves.

The one which lulls us into a false sense of "Spring" security.

And then, BAM, 30 degrees with 25 mile per our winds making it feel like the low 20's ... or BAM, 10 - 12 inches of fresh fallen snow; the real wet and heavy kind ... or BAM, sleet and freezing rain.

My son will be 26 years old on Thursday, March 22nd. It snowed 10 inches the day he was born.

You would think I would learn after all these years but I haven't. Every March when those "nice" days make an appearance, my mind seems to completely forget what hindsight clearly decries as inevitable, i.e. it ain't over till it's over.

Ergo, March Madness.

"There will be a rain dance Friday night, weather permitting." - George Carlin