A raw day. Not cold, particularly--in the high 40s all afternoon--but windy and rainy and in some ways more uncomfortable to be out in than the below-freezing temperatures we had last month.

Maybe only because my expectations have shifted: last month we still had two feet of snow on the ground and I put on the full winter gear to walk down to the mailbox. This last week, however, it's been sunny and in the sixties and I walked around with no long underwear and no hat. At one point I wished I had sandals on. So even this moderate cold comes as a shock. (Don't get your hopes up, remember?) I am loath to dig that long underwear back out. And one does not wear one's down coat in Vermont once the temperatures have breached 40.

I found myself wanting to turn the heat up this evening--to turn it up past where we set it during all that real cold. I put a sweater on instead--I'd shed that habit as well during our extravagant week of warmth--and started a new pot of tea.

Don't trust March.