March

March is a strange old month, probably best explained by Edward Thomas' poem of the same name. Despite, forcing the various ideas about March apply to himself, he presents an obvious, yet easily forgotten point about the seasons and about the human condition. 

You can never quite tell when spring has started, until it's April. March is the awkward phase in between winter and spring, warmth and old.Often times I have questioned myself as to what it means and why we, as humans, fail to differentiate things well. It's like the abortion argument, at what point does it become murder? If a fetus is aborted after 26 weeks it is murder, but aborted after 25 weeks and 6 days it is not? In situations as these there are no such things as a fine line. Everyone has different spectrum of vision, everyone has different processings of the outside world and the way we percieve time is crucial to this, and the arguement we make to ourselves of 'almost' is what limits us, as humans, the most.

Maybe other things don't have this issue, they can tell spring from winter during March. But we all know when it is summer.