March is a liar. One day it’s 50°F and sunny, and you’re ready to break out the shorts. The next day, a Nor’easter dumps eight inches of slush on your commute. The average high is around 45°F, but it’s a chaotic 45°F.
You’ll hear locals say, “Don’t trust March.” And they’re right. But oh, those first glimpses of spring? They make you feel like you’ve unlocked a secret level. The potholes get bigger, but so does your hope. Patience is the name of the game.
