This is a March the oldtimers will talk about for years. March was freakishly warm and windy. The trees that normally hibernate until May have light green buds forming. The warm weather’s drawn bugs from their naps and they gather in piles around lights at night. Flowers are blooming and the cool season grasses are gobbling up the rays of sunshine.
And the wind. Oh, the wind. I hear it howl outside my office windows. It blows my car into the other lane while I drive. And the wind battles the fragile Sandhills, blowing sand, creating blowouts (where grass never grows), and it hasn’t stopped all March!
Newt lives and works outdoors, so he comes in dirty faced and tired, tired of the wind. As piles of sand migrated onto our driveway, I wondered how long and how far the dust traveled. Newt’s response, “That sand traveled from a different ZIP code!”
