March came in that winter like the meekest and mildest of lambs, bringing days that were crisp and golden and tingling, each followed by a frosty pink twilight which gradually lost itself in an elfland of moonshine. Related Posts:March, March, all the day, Winds of March, please…Battle through crisp air with a crisp car.March is such a fickle month. It is the seam between…A good dog never dies, he always stays, he walks…