Sorry T.S. Eliot, March is the cruelest month.
(On a side note, I would like to pause and recognize that March has been much crueler to other people on the planet this month. My thoughts go out to those in need. My irritations remain in Maine.)
Most people have the image of spring in Maine that includes the following:
Legitimate icons of our great state, but we don't actually see lupines until June, when the rest of the country is well into summer.
March in Maine is the ultimate tease. It was sunny and 40 today, while we enjoyed our extra hours of sunlight, but tonight the lows are approaching a whopping 9. That's 9 degrees. We're guaranteed another snow storm, so we're enjoying the foot deep ruts in the mud right now.
While we welcome our moments in the sun and the first opportunity we've had in months to drive with our windows cracked open, most people don't consider 36 degrees a balmy day. That's the saddest part about March. You want to feel spring-happy, after months of snow and darkness, but it's still just a little too early.
At least in the deepest reaches of winter, you know what you're getting into. You can expect a foot of snow in January and not be too, too upset about it. But after you've had your first warm, sunny day in March, it's hard to see the snow fall again or the temperatures dip below zero.