Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

There was no definite change of weather when February handed the reins over to March. She did it all herself before her days were over. With balmy temps, she started to melt away her mounds of snow and brought out patches of bare fields and lawns. The snow shovel fell over without its support of snow on the patio. Killdeers flew in to cry over the muddy meadow.

The mushy, icy snow took away the speed from our sledding attempts on a Fair Valley hill where four of my grandchildren and I tried the winter sport that her sudden warmth took away. Falling on ice happened quicker for an unsuspecting m...