March is my favorite month.

Some people may think I’m a bit nuts because it is such a messy month, seems so long because it follows the year’s shortest month, and can’t make up its mind whether it’s winter or spring.

But that’s precisely why I love it. March is full of surprises.

March brings that first, clear, unmistakable whiff of spring, a return of many bird species to the feeder and chickadees changing their call from one of annoyance to love, and this year, and extra hour of daylight at the end of the day.

I love the fact that one day it’s 55 degrees, sunny and mild, and people walk around in their shirt sleeves, while the next day is windy, cold and snowy, and calls for boots, wool coats, and snuggly scarves.

March brings mud season, another reason not to like it, but another reason that I do. Soil, although wet and mushy, makes its first appearance from under the snow and ice, and along its edges are tiny hints of green, of moss or brave blades of grass.

And if we’re lucky enough to have “holes” in those dirty, once white snow piles, tiny, delicate snowdrops, or pastel crocuses pop up, offering us another taste of spring. If we’re really lucky, a few perky, yellow daffodils poke their noses up from the safety of the soil, too.

March is the month the lovely old maple trees are decorated with old-fashioned pails and spigots dripping that slightly sweet, colorless sap. Luscious, warm golden syrup dripped onto clean snow is a treat no other month can give us.

And St. Patrick’s Day brings out the Irish in all of us whether we have Emerald Isle roots or not. Occasionally, the joys and colors of Easter visit this third month of the year, too.

March came in like a lamb this year, with bright sunshine and warm temperatures, but March was quick to remind us that this is, after all, Maine, with a heavy snowstorm and frigid temperatures following the next day. No one should ever think that winter is over when we make it into March. March makes us humble, and reminds us that we, indeed, are not in charge of nature and all that it offers and can do.

Whether this month will go out like a lion, as the old adage states, won’t be known for a few more days. But when March ends, I feel a little sad.

For April, although giving us an occasional snowstorm, is an entirely different month when we know that summer is on its way and the months will fly by faster than we can possibly keep track of them. March leaves us wondering, it has that certain mystery about it.

But best of all, I love March because it holds such promise – of longer daylight hours and warmer days; of soil that will soon be ready to till and plant; of more wildlife to make its appearance around our homes; of the plans for summer vacations and friends and family gatherings.

March has it all, because most of it is in our heads, and our minds can do anything.

I love March.