March is one of my favorite months because it never really knows what it’s doing. Some days it’s winter. Other days, it tries out spring, half-commits, then pulls back again. It’s clumsy that way—sunshine one minute, slush the next—but it keeps moving forward anyway. I don’t know about you, but that’s a story I know by heart.
It’s not polished. Not fully formed. It’s messy. It’s that awkward middle ground where nothing looks how it’s supposed to yet. The snow’s still melting into gray puddles. The ground is soft and slick with mud. Everything smells like damp leaves and wet dirt— like something’s breaking down and building up at the same time.
But even with all that, there’s movement. There’s change. Underneath the mess, something is shifting.
March always asks me to consider: how often do I wait until I feel ready before I let myself move forward? How many times have I held back, waiting for things to be neat, for the path to be dry, for the timing to be perfect?
I think that’s why March feels hopeful to me. Not because it’s already spring, but because it’s trying, trying, trying. Even in the mud, even in the cold that still sneaks in at night, there’s this constant, unstoppable pull toward what’s next. Buds still push through hard ground. Rivers still race forward, dragging winter out with them.
So maybe this month is a reminder that we don’t need to have it all figured out before we let ourselves grow. Maybe it’s enough to just start. To stretch a little toward the light, even if the air is still cold. To trust that blooming isn’t always graceful—in fact, it’s often muddy and slow—but still, somehow, it happens.
Here’s to moving forward against the slow ache of almost, mud sucking at our heels, winter licking the backs of our necks, uncertain, unsteady, but onward just the same.
You can purchase the limited edition print of “It’s March, So Let’s” below! Just like the rest of my monthly poem series, it’s available only for the month. Use the code thankyou as a little perk for being a Substack subscriber :)
Spring is on its way, even if it doesn’t feel like it yet. What’s something you’re hopeful for right now? I’ll share my answer in the comments!
Honestly, writing my book feels a lot like March. It’s messy, uncertain, full of stops and starts. Some days, I feel like I’m racing forward, words spilling out effortlessly. Other days, it’s like wading through mud, every sentence slow and heavy. The work is adding up, shaping itself into something real, but some days it feels like I’m not making any progress at all. So I’m trying to take my own advice—move forward, even when it’s not perfect, even when I don’t feel ready. Because at some point, just like March, it’ll all break into bloom.
March was The month of essential chaos that brought me to an order I didn’t expect. This is my End of March reflection, if you feel like comparing experiences 🍷🫶🏼
https://substack.com/@matriarchsandmargs/note/c-104984413?r=4b7w5n&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action