In like a ?

Hi: 23°F
Low: 6°F
Conditions: Gradual clearing throughout the day.

One day in early March, my second grade teacher handed out cotton balls, tawny string, and blue construction paper. Our assignment was to make three dimensional lions and lambs squared off against one another under what, presumably, was a cornflower spring sky. I was never much of an artist (no attention to detail), but I complied as best as I could with the project. Still, I was clearly distracted.

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While the glue was left to dry, we second graders were left to cavort around the playground. My friends opted for the monkey bars, but I had different animals in mind. Where was this lion, said to usher in our month? And what on earth was it going to do to an approaching lamb? No one seemed to know. Worse yet, no one seemed to care. Forget distracted, I was flummoxed.

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The meteorological proverb has stuck with me ever since, though it doesn't resonate with me much more now than it did then. Still, each March 1st, I keep an eye out for either creature--just in case. And, if pushed, I'd probably admit I have seen a lion or two start the months of March since second grade.

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So, in the interest of weather mythology, Ari and I set out this week to see if we could test the proverb once and for all. The radar seemed hopeful for some sort of visitor:

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But, when we stepped out in all the snow, there wasn't a creature to be found. Nor was there the bluster of a lion, or even the supposed tranquilness of a lamb. All there was was snow. Constant, falling, accumulating snow.

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So we started to wonder. If this March is beginning as neither lion nor lamb, then what is it? In like a polar bear? Like a penguin? Like a snow angel? None of these seemed quite right.

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We looked again for clues, hoping we might find our month's archetypal animal. Still no luck, though we did find the tippy-tops of our lawn chairs, which have apparently seen their shadows and retreated.

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We also found a dairy farmer's tractor, which wandered down our driveway after the snow broke (I repeat: BROKE) our plow guy's plow. But still no lion or lamb.

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As far as Ari was concerned, it didn't really matter that we were no closer to finding an answer to our connundrum. Being in the snow was plenty for her. And that's when the obvious struck me: this March has come in like a husky.

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