Posts in blue ink
That’s the sound that March makes — that and a muffled sobbing. February triggers cabin fever but March in Minnesota is far more dangerous.
Here’s a story about March: One Christmas, Santa put a baby albino rabbit under the tree — so delightful!
The little rabbit grew into a big rabbit and by the next Winter, our basement smelled like the bunny barn at the State Fair. With scraps of wood and a bale of hay, I built an outdoor rabbit hutch.
In a pinch, it could serve as a coffin for an adult man.
IN A PINCH.
By March it was buried under several feet of snow and I’d order my eldest to go spend time with the rabbit in the snow coffin.
The moral of the story is: Get a dog.
And something about March creating crazy. Thank God I have an outlet for my March crazy:
Times were simple then — pre-Facebook… cats fixed… no Dance Moms…
The air was thick with anticipation — it wasn’t fair to keep Zeichen Press hidden from the public.It was time to pry open the (heirloom-quality) tupperware lid. Time to expose the rotting and pungent living carcass to the unblinking eye of its critics.
The Universe demanded documentation. Who am I to refuse?
That was four years ago (today).Now, readership of the Zeichen Press blog hovers somewhere between cable-access viewership and meaningful Craigslist encounters.