This is one of my favorite times of year.
The days are getting longer, and there is more and more light.
And it is March light, which seems to have its own particular magic.
Toward the end of the day it tangles in the bare branches of the trees, and throws great golden parallelograms onto the walls of buildings.
It is light that promises (in the incomparable words of E.B. White) that “The song sparrow will return and sing, the frogs will awake, the warm wind will blow again.”
It is light that promises us spring.

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