Even though February is just past, I think you’ll enjoy this essay by a “guest” author, Rosemary Krill. Enjoy her account of a winter walk along the March Bank! 
Feeling the March Bank in February
The ephemeral remnant of a gentle, late winter snowstorm drew me into the garden one February morning. There, dodging the wind, I felt the warm, sheltered, sunny exposure of the March Bank. It had always been a visual experience for me, but that day, the March Bank was more tactile, a sensuous experience of the perfect microclimate for early spring flowers. This is how it happened.
The snow began about 4:00 pm on February 3. The timing caused some concern. Would we make it up the hill on the Front Drive as we left work? But it was such a gentle snow. The globs of flakes fell thickly but lazily. They were light and soft enough to cover the garden, but all the roadways remained clear. It felt like being in a snow globe.
The snow fell through the night, and by morning several inches covered the ground. The fluffy snow and the warming earth beneath made shoveling as easy as it could be, and the main roads were still mostly clear. A slightly delayed opening at Winterthur gave the hard-working garden crew time to make the roadways safe. As I drove out Pennsylvania Avenue toward Winterthur, the sun was shining, and the sky was blue.
It was a beautiful sight, made even more luscious by its rarity and transience. The light snow outlined every deciduous branch and modeled the layers of the conifers. Fencelines were white. Even delicate shrubs were outlined, without the drooping and damage of a heavier snow. It was a snowstorm from Camelot, where it “never rains ‘til after sundown”. We were enjoying all the beauty of a winter storm without any of the inconvenience or danger. What a treat!
But the image was fading quickly. In the sun’s rays, large clumps of white fell from the trees. I knew that the special look of the snowy morning would not survive another hour. And so I decided that, since it was early, I would walk through the garden to my office. I intended to walk all the way around Garden Lane, anticipating the views of the white-branched trees across the meadows and golf course from Magnolia Bend.
I started out and was rewarded for the decision by the quiet, white landscape. But by the time I crested the rise just past the 1740 House, it was feeling more like winter. The wind whipped in from the open field beyond. I realized that I hadn’t dressed quite as warmly as a winter walk required. By the time I reached the turn toward the March Bank, I knew that I would forego seeing the Latimeria Gates frosted with snow at the farther end of Garden Lane.
And so, I turned onto the March Bank path. Winter was still before my eyes, but certainly not scratching my cheeks. There was no wind. The sun felt magnified. It almost seemed cozy! If Garden Lane had felt like this, I would have certainly made the complete circuit. On the hillside to my right, I searched for the little green noses of the first spring plants under the moist, warm cover of the snow.
Walking along the March Bank path was an entirely different feeling from walking on Garden Lane. That spring bulbs would thrive on the March Bank was something that I knew, but on the morning of February 4, I felt it. And it made perfect sense!
RTKrill 3/18/09
