March always plays with my moods

Margie said my font has been so small she barely sees it.  Have any others of you had this trouble?  I've made it bold, thinking maybe that would help.  

We had three or four days last week when the temperature climbed past 70, and it was glorious.  Cliff plowed my garden, I ran the tiller over the clods, and then poked a few radish seeds in the ground.  I'm going to start some cabbage plants in the house in peat pots, just to have something in the house to remind me spring is almost here officially.  I rejoice at the thought of spring!

And yet, after a series of lovely, although very windy, days, the sky has been cloudy.  Every day rain is predicted; every day we get a few sprinkles, never more than 1/4 inch in 24 hours.  I don't do well during cloudy times, so I've taken to watching Netflix, even during the day.  For some reason I can't get interested in reading right now.  It seems we are watching a lot of shows from Great Britain; that's quite a switch for me.  I used to avoid British-made shows.  I could never get used to the accents, and struggled to understand the lingo.  However, Cliff has used closed captions for many years, so that helps the issue.  Right now we're watching "The Last Kingdom", which takes place in 800 AD in what was becoming England.  This show sends me to the Internet often to read about the Danes living in Britain, so I am learning some history, for what that's worth.  Before that, we watched Poldark, which I believe begins around 1200 AD.  On Sunday nights we watch PBS for "Call the Midwife" and "All Creatures Great and Small".  Oh, and yesterday, we started watching "The Crown".  I've always said I don't give two hoots about what happens with the royals in England, yet here I am, watching their shows and googling their history.

Cloudy days make me watch TV, which numbs me further.  It will pass.

Cliff talked to his oldest sister yesterday; she told him one of her granddaughters has already gotten the stimulus money allotted to her children... quite a significant amount, because more children, more money.  I can't believe they received it so fast.  And how did they receive it when banks don't add money to our accounts during the weekend?  Cliff used to put his phone on speaker, and I could hear their whole conversation.  Now I only hear his side of conversations; the other person's voice goes straight to his hearing aids, via bluetooth.  I guess I could call his sister myself with my questions, but let's face it:  It's a nosy question I have no business asking.  Yes, dear readers.  I am nosy. 

I have decided I need to stay out of the genealogy game.  Wikitree keeps telling my my dad's first wife could not have given birth to my half-sister because she was only 14.  I'll bet back in the 1920's, there were plenty of shotgun weddings involving fourteen-year-old girls, and younger.  I can get on my computer and access Ancestry through the public library, but it isn't the full version.  Plus the fact I'll probably mess things up if I  keep going with this family tree stuff.

I haven't set any clocks forward yet, and that is likely to cause me to be late to church.  Will I remember to spring forward in time?  Only the shadow knows.

This whole page of blather you just read, if you made it this far, is brought to you by my clouded, dreary mind.  The old motto, "Do something, lest ye do nothing", is appropriate:  It's what I do when I'm stumped and can't think of anything to write.

Have a nice Sunday.

The Rainy Day, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.