It has been a long winter here in the North Country. On Sunday, a blizzard brought everything to a halt; it was so severe that officials even canceled the second day of the Fly Fishing Expo in St. Paul. Fortunately, I had gone on Saturday this year.

When I was in elementary school in Eastern Washington, we were taught that when March comes in like a lion, it goes out like a lamb—and when it comes in like a lamb, it goes out like a lion. It is a saying that has never really seemed to apply here in Minnesota, and even less so in Montana, where I spent my youth.

With Opening Day just a week away (and the Twins’ Home Opener just two weeks away), last week’s blizzard and arctic temperatures felt particularly jarring. However, the long-range forecast predicts temperatures in the 60s by this Saturday.

I have begun re-reading H.G. Wells’ The Invisible Man, which I’ll follow with my annual reread of Treasure Island in April. Baseball and pirates—a great combination. This summer, in addition to baseball, I am planning to do a lot of fishing again. Yet another great combination

I continue to work through old journals and poems with the idea of creating another chapbook. The raw material is there; I just need to figure out how it all fits together.

In the background of all of this, of course, is the Madness that is Trump. It colors everything.

Like many, I wrestle with what I can do. How much agency do I really have to counteract so much hate, untruth, and death?

Trying to be kind? Paying attention to beauty and mystery in this world? Living with gratitude instead of resentment?

If you have figured it out, by all means, please let me know.