Crow Moon.

Cool enough this morning for a fire; warm enough by this afternoon that I was in shirtsleeves splitting stove wood for the weekend. All the weathers. All the time. This is March as I remember it, except under what I now know is the Crow Moon. Or not except: the March moon is always the Crow Moon, apparently. So some other word. Also, the light. Also, both temperatures on the breeze. Also, the Toad outside at the by-the-ounce yogurt place this afternoon. The Toad saying Jupiter, saying Venus. Seventy degrees tomorrow. All else over the next few days.