As usual, March has not been a great month. Fellow blogger Mark suggested I hunker down at home.
I tried. Things got ugly there, too. Literally.
The city decided to chop down all seven mature trees that form a canopy around our house. These trees are on the city property that border the street; even though homeowners water them, they belong to the city. Homeowners aren’t allowed trim the trees without going through an arduous permitting process, but city didn’t trim the trees for about fifty years. Their massive roots raised and cracked the sidewalks.
Older folks are likely to trip and fall. Folks in wheelchairs have a hard time getting through. The city was out of compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act. The specter of lawsuits loomed. Continue reading The Once-ler Next Door (#337)
In The Wasteland of T.S. Eliot, April is the cruelest month.
In my world, it’s always March.
Once upon a time, March was the best month.
March was my birthday, back when birthdays were awesome (and even if they weren’t, I got cake). It was my mother’s favorite season, which always put her in a good mood. She’d exclaim over crocuses and forsythia while we flew kites. There was St. Patrick’s Day, on which you were allowed to pinch annoying siblings (biting would have been better, but I made do). Sometimes Easter occurred in March, which meant egg dyeing and chocolate bunny rabbits.
Back then, even the annual horror that is Daylight Saving Time didn’t occur until April. Continue reading Miserable March (#336)