From little candy hearts and hand-made valentines to fat flakes shimmering beyond the window on a snowy Christmas eve, if you’re like me, every month in the year holds special memories. Waving flags, parades and potato salad, jack-o-lanterns and pillowcases full of candy, each flip of the calendar page returns me to my childhood. June delivers a thrilling sense of freedom, a throw-back to that wonderful last day of school every year. September rolls in on a bittersweet wave of magnificent fall colors and chilly winds hinting at the winter to come.
But, this is March, you say, a quiet, unassuming month lacking any major points of note. Wrong, or as they say in the Irish, Micheart! March rocks! Here in Phoenix, where I hang my hat, March means wildflowers - like the beauties decorating the hills of my mountain escape - hot air balloons and the annual Renaissance Fair. For a chick who detests the cold, a month shooing off the dog days of winter to usher in the early signs of spring is a big deal.
March also means St. Patrick’s Day. For a chick from a large, loving, LOUD Irish clan, a month celebrating the streak of green running through the soul of mankind is magical. And for an Irish chick who writes romance, March inspires tales of enduring love amongst the vibrant hills of Ireland, stories seeped in things old and mystical. But more on that later.
I admit, blarney comes naturally to me, so, count yourself lucky I’m curbing my Irish gift of gab to wish you a happy spring and a very happy St. Patrick’s Day with my favorite Irish salute…
May those who love you, love you,
and those who don’t love you,
may God turn their hearts,
and if he doesn’t turn their hearts,
may he turn their ankles…
so you’ll know them by their limping.