"March giveth, and March taketh away. That's why it's the worst month of the year. Among my many correct-but-underappreciated opinions is that spring is a horrible season. How fickle it is! A liar, a tease, it baits you with hope: The drugstores fill with bright yellow Peeps, with displays of sunglasses and Zyrtec and trowels."
"When I was younger, I thought that February was the cruelest month. Objectively, it's bad: The holiday glow has faded and we are left tired and cold and trundling through slush, dragging ourselves home in the 5PM darkness, feeling listless and disembodied, not having encountered our own skin for months."
"But February, at least, gives us no hope. That's a kindness, since we know exactly what to expect. In February, I read and make stews and barely go out. I tell my friends I'll see them later. I never check the weather because what's the point? Each and every day will be grim."
The author contrasts March with February, arguing that March is actually worse despite seeming more pleasant. While February is consistently cold and dark, offering no false hope, March teases with warm sunny days followed by cold rain and snow. This unpredictability creates emotional turmoil as spring merchandise and warm weather promise renewal, only to be snatched away by winter's return. February's consistent bleakness allows for acceptance and low expectations, making it more tolerable than March's fickle oscillation between hope and disappointment.
Read at Washingtonian - The website that Washington lives by.
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