March in New Orleans is one of the most beautiful times of year. The azaleas explode all over town, my irises just keep bursting into purple, and the oak trees look dusted with teeny green leaf buds--amazing to see those hundred-year-old trees as fresh as a yearling. The weather, too, is simply gorgeous: in the mid 70s with clear skies and breezes, the air dry and the shade actually cooling. All too soon, the temps will creep into the 80s and 90s and stay there until fall--so for now, here's to spring.
Here's a poem I wrote a while back about early-budding azaleas, ones that opened far too soon, it seemed to me, Northerner that I am.
Tiny explosions of fuchsia flowers
bloom, unafraid, in January.
A magical day in the sun, the rain’s caress,
and the azaleas think they’re safe.
Better to curb passion, to protect their petals;