The Winds of March

March.....its not spring, its not winter, it's the month before income tax, it can be 60 degrees one day and a snow squall the next and then it will rain for days on end, not my favorite month. March is also my birthday month, an event in my distant past that was a bright spot in a thoroughly forgettable month, not so any longer. I seem to be collecting more birthdays than a maternity ward. I have no intention of boring you, dear reader with a tedious list of platitudes and cliche's on the subject of age except to say that I have finally accepted the fact that I’m am fast approaching old, [the kind of old that your grandparents seemed to be when you were 12]. I have of late been detecting in my behavior a profound change, I no longer sweat bullets when a letter from the IRS arrives,[don’t worry you can have it all soon], I am more patient with my work and less patient with any external forces that disturb me, I say what I really think and I decided to open the latest mailer from A.R.P. Getting old has its advantages, young boys hold the door for you and address you with, and “Sir" life is good. The best occurrence is a return to my artwork, I retire early and rise extremely early to completely throw myself into my latest work, it’s an exhilarating experience that I have not experienced since childhood. My priorities have changed, and as they say [here comes the cliche] the older you get the less time you have to waste. I intend to make up for the years spent exploiting my talents on retail and create something of lasting interest and beauty. Those of you who are familiar with my work, Cape Cod has always been my favored subject and annual summer pilgrimage, today the infernal winds of March took me for one brief moment to a isolated dune and the total bliss of art and the wisdom of age.