“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold; when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade.”  Charles Dickens*

‘Tis the month of shamrocks, aquamarines, and the vernal equinox. I’ll soon pull out my recipe for Irish tea cake to go along with a hearty stew, in lieu of corned beef and cabbage. I’ve just never been thrilled with cooked cabbage. My family (except for one sister-in-law and her daughters) has no Irish background that we know of. However, since my father’s heritage is Scottish, I’m sure there could have been some cultural mixing and marriage. We do have a granddaughter in Dublin right now, and I expect she will be seeing all sorts of festive times this month.

Having read all the “Sister Fidelma” books by Peter Tremayne, set in Ireland around 7^th century AD, we have an appreciation for Irish culture and their impact on our own culture. These books are fiction, but meticulously-researched fiction. Their laws protecting women’s independence were far more impressive than ours. I especially like their long-ago criminal justice system; those individuals who broke the law seldom sat in prison for a long incarceration.  It was a system of recompence. Instead of idling in prison, criminals had to work out their crimes’ paying those who they had hurt. If the crime was dire and the criminal unrepentant and considered unredeemable, he/she was put in an open boat with one oar, food and water for a day and towed out to sea.  This was considered leaving them to God’s judgment.  I’m not sure about that one! Of course, people ignored the laws, just as they do today, so Ireland wasn’t Paradise, and when the Saxons and Britons began filtering into lands around Ireland, and becoming part of the culture, and when the Church’s Roman influence spread to Ireland, more severe punishments began to be common. They emphasized suffering for punishment rather than paying back and redeeming one’s self.

St. Patrick’s history is equally interesting. He was an actual person, who grew up in Roman-controlled Britain. He was captured by slavers, and ended up in Ireland. Interestingly, the Irish did not, by law, buy or sell slaves, BUT those individuals captured in battles, or convicted of some kinds of crimes, basically had no rights until they had earned their freedom through work. Technically, however, they weren’t slaves. Patrick eventually was freed and journeyed to Rome. After some time there, he chose to return to Ireland to spread God’s word, where he had been a slave. There are many legends around his missionary work, including driving out all snakes, and he is certainly venerated by the Irish and celebrated every March 17^th.

St. Patrick’s Day is a good reason for partying, Irish or not. One of our sons met his future wife at a St. Patrick’s Day party. Some years ago, Beebe Lake, on Cornell’s campus, miraculously turned an amazing green every March 17th. That was before everyone reluctantly agreed that it is ecologically improper to tamper with Mother Nature’s water. However, a magnificent dragon, created by the architecture students still makes its creaky way across campus on March 17^th.

March has many other things going for it besides this one popular holiday. This past week was Ash Wednesday; the beginning of the Lenten season. This marks the 40 Days (plus Sundays) until Easter.  March also holds the vernal Equinox, when the day and night are equal. Early March is when enthusiastic gardeners begin putting seeds into peat pots and keep checking to see if the ground is thawing at all. Three members of my family and one good friend, celebrate their birthdays in March. Owls are hunting to feed babies, skunks are mating or may have already done so, chipmunks are running around on fine days, and there is a certain feeling in the air.

March was (in my time with 4-H) when 4-H kids began sewing for Dress Revue. As our sewing skills grew, modeling in the Dress Revue was something to anticipate. My very first sewing project was an apron made from a pink-flowered feed sack. Feed sacks were great for beginning sewers; both for their cheerful prints and for the price ---zero. Next came a gathered skirt. Then I was brave enough to try a whole dress --- yellow polished cotton with cap sleeves, and later, a green wool suit. Those were successes in Dress Revue, a heady experience, for one was judged on both sewing expertise and poise in modeling the garment.  The event was held in some elegant place, like the Granger Homestead in Canandaigua and was covered by local papers.

On the strength of 4-H experiences, I chose Clothing and Textiles as my major at Cornell,  a decision that needed more deliberation than I gave it. I enjoyed all of my classes: Draping, Tailoring, Pattern-making, so it was a while before the realization penetrated that if I were to make this my career, I needed to live in or near a large city. The rural areas that I prefer do not have many calls for fashion designers or buyers for non-existent dress shops. Fortunately, I had two minors, food & nutrition and journalism.

I did use some of all that textiles information though. My first full-time job was a 4-H and Youth Educator in Maryland and I helped 4-Hers with sewing projects. Later, in both private and public schools, in Pennsylvania, I helped teach sewing skills again. I made my own wedding gown, a satin and lace confection with a flowing train, for $100 instead of $1000. And because I made it, it had a unique touch of pennies sewed into the hem of the train so it would flow smoothly and stay down nicely, my very own invention.  😊 Mostly, my sewing skills were used for family and home, which is not a bad thing. Observing the high cost of ready-made draperies and pillow shams, I was glad I could make them for only a fraction of that cost.

In addition to sewing, I remember March for baby chicks.  My mother, for fifteen years or so, sold DeKalb seed corn.  All the farmers knew her, from membership in Farm & Home Bureau and Grange, and respected her for her integrity.   This was something she could do from home, when I was small.   For a few years, DeKalb sold chicks as well.  The chicks came in large square boxes (ventilated, of course) and on delivery day, when I came home from school, our dining room had boxes and boxes, stacked shoulder-high, full of peeping chicks.  Talk about too much noise!!  I could stick my fingers in the vent holes and pet fuzzy little birds ---- also getting a few minor pecks.  I can almost hear the peeping chorus even now.

As we come into March, whether it entered as a lion or a lamb (and actually, it was a little of both this past weekend), we have a few messy, muddy weeks ahead of us. But what can we expect from a month named for the Roman god of war “Mars”? If you took Latin in school, you will not have forgotten the Ides of March (15^th), in 44 BC, the day on which Julius Caesar was assassinated. “Et tu, Brute?”

After last week’s warmer temperatures, and today’s 57 degrees, it is finally possible to anticipate Spring.  No daffodils are poking little green shoots through the soil yet, and snow drops are still shivering beneath a pile of snow. But, a whole flock of red-winged blackbirds flew into our bird feeders on Saturday and there were starlings on the suet.  And who guessed that we might get a thunder storm in March (last night)? Those who observe Lent are in the midst of deciding on a Lenten practice; will it be giving up something for the season? Chocolate? Desserts? Meat? Judging others?  Or perhaps this year it will be adding something to their lives: thinking through biases? Reading Scripture more faithfully? Planning to do an act of kindness each day?  Spending more time in prayer? Paying forward for someone? A yearly six weeks of thoughtfulness is probably a very good practice.

Meanwhile, March is here, and it has much to offer.  That very familiar Irish song,  “When Irish Eyes are Smiling”, could cheer us on as we sing of brightness, gaiety, and laughter. Singing always makes me happier, so I can recommend it highly. Life can be good, whether the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold or it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade. If the snow ever melts, search for a shamrock or two.

Carol Bossard writes from her home in Spencer. She may be reached at: carol42wilde@htva.net.

*Charles Dickens 

**Peter Tremayne