I keep a running account of matters year 'round. Here is what I wrote when this month began: "March 1, 2019: 8 o'clock AM, 28 degrees. Forecast: 36. Sunny and calm."

Very much like today, the last day of the month. Neither lamb nor lion.

It isn't quite Spring yet in southeastern Alaska, the ground is still frozen and snow (!!) is forecast for this coming Thursday and Friday but bushes and trees are budding and I saw that the day lily spikes are up a good inch and a half on the sunny side of the house.

I was thinking metaphorically of political things when I wrote this to a friend- but it works here:
"A loud bellow, rough and creaking from long disuse: HOPE!
And Spring answered. Hurrying from the mountains, rushing through the valleys, slipping under thatch and brush, in a tinkling, tiny voice growing ever stronger, Spring answered, I am coming!