March

It's March. Already.
I used to make fun of my mother (when she was my age and I was a wet-behind-the-ears punk) when she would ask, "Where does the time go?"

Of course, I am saying the same thing, now.
Sorry, Mom.

So it came in like a lamb yesterday: sunny, 50 degrees, breezy.
As long as that lion doesn't have snow on his mane when he leaves in 30 days, I don't care how else he goes out.