March. It’s the month of false spring, mud season and the transitional period between winter and summer. It’s a month of psychological battle. Mother Nature tricks us into packing away our winter coats, only to dump six inches of snow the next morning. March isn’t the month of flowers; it’s the month of gray slush, exposed trash from melted snowbanks and ruined shoes. It’s the month of physical battle between you and the elements — you versus the pothole, you versus the wind, you battling the slush for every inch of passable driveway. We are dueling with the stubborn remains of a winter that has overstayed its welcome.
Despite its challenges, March holds a beauty, balancing the lingering cold with the promise of spring. It is a time when the earth softens, creating “mud-luscious” landscapes, where, despite the gray, the first signs of life reappear with the vibrancy of crocus and comedic relief of robins hunting worms as if it were a game of tug of war. It is a month of renewal, marking the metamorphosis from winter’s slumber to the vibrant energy of spring.
Not all of the creaking trees could hold themselves upright. Many have dropped limbs and some have fallen completely leaving a landscape consumed by a blizzard’s wrath. But, the sun has risen and the atmosphere has shifted from rage to promise. The sun has brought a touch of warmth and an opportunity for renewal and a profound shift in human spirit. With the suns rays, the community seemed to exhale with the dripping of icicles and the sound of running water in streams, driveways and gutters.
With the promise of more daylight, there was promise of more music and light. Folks gathered at the Chilmark Church this past Sunday evening to listen to the voices of and sounds created by, to name a few, Merrily Fenner, Danny Whiting, Donald Nitchie, Andy Goldman, Chuck Hodgkinson, Sean McMahon and more. Laura, daughter of Warren and Nan Doty, sat in with the Loon Lane Players. For 20 years or so, Laura’s flute sat in a dark, forgotten corner of the attic, nestled inside a velvet-lined box that smelled faintly of antique dust and lost time. Although her flute sat in a silent box for so long, both it and she held the capacity for beautiful music. It was a gentle reminder that ii is never too late to pick up an old passion allowing the past to blend harmoniously with the present. Warren and Nan watched via Zoom as she wowed us all.
As the sun dipped down below the horizon and cast its golden glow along the walls, I looked around the church. I wasn’t just there for music, I was there for perspective and part of a collective quietly tapping their feet, making iPhone videos and enjoying the beautiful moment amidst the complexities of daily life. With Peter Cook, Frank Fenner, Alicia Knight, Claire Ganz, Rebecca Gilbert, Pam and Clark Goff, Ann Whiting, Linda Thompson, Julian Wise, Susan Heilbron, my family and more surrounding me, I felt a renewed sense of community within the powerful magic of music, poetry and candlelight.
In the bustle of daily life, it is easy to overlook the meticulous, often invisible work that keeps our town running smoothly. We enjoy our day to day life of maintained roads, dedicated police force, staffed beaches and more, rarely pausing to consider the financial planning required to make these things possible. This is why it is imperative to pause and offer a thank you to our town’s finance committee, financial team, town administrator and select board for their extensive, dedicated, and often exhaustive meetings throughout the budget cycle. Thank you Linda, Marshall, Keith, Bruce, Deb, Don, Marie, Jeffrey, Matt, Tim, Dilly, Sarah and countless others who have cast typical routines to the wayside and made their way to the big table day after day, week after week. There is light at the end of that tunnel.
Welcome back to those of you who made a break for it during school vacation week. I hope you have brought back stories of epic runs on ski slopes, photos of seaside Mexican sunsets, videos of toucans in the Costa Rican rainforest, and a little leftover Florida sand between your toes.
This article appears in March 6, 2026.