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.