It was the second week in March . . . The magnolia trees had already bloomed, and tulips, daffodils, and wildflowers were shooting up all around the convent’s gardens. Related Posts:March, March, all the day, Winds of March, please…At 70 you may drive slower than your age in miles…Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and…Live unrestricted and love like crazy that is how…