Spring. Maybe.

It's March (thankfully).

Despite the back and forth swings on the thermometer, I believe Mother Nature has actually remembered it's March, too.

Why do I believe this?

Because just like every other March, this March is the magical time of year when we get to play Canadian archeologist in our yard.

Yes, Canadian archeologist. Or at least that's how I think of it.

Our yard. It's thawing. And relics of the past are (slowly) being uncovered.

The boys are thrilled at each surprise revealed.

Buried in the banks are untold treasures yet to be unveiled.

The steamroller? Aw, man, I've been missing that badass of the construction site!

Sadly though, as you can see, we're clearly traversing the nasty garbage snow stage that is also March.

Folks who live in areas where they never experience snow accumulation over months don't quite understand the... lack of enthusiasm that the snowbound harbour for the first vestiges of spring.

Sure, the higher temps are great, but this dreadful, half-melted, dirty mess is the least desirable part of the cycle of snow.

Gross.

And it all gives way to the spring mud season. Whee... ::headdesk::