Vernal Equinox, Hmm? Maybe Somewhere Else

Oh, and to think that only yesterday
I sat right here, seed catalogs in hand,
A-choosing plants as though it were near May
And time to sow a garden on my land!
Today the horizontal slow flies by
To mock my dreams and hopes and make me stash
Those catalogs. But I refuse to cry
Or throw those pretty booklets in the trash.
At some point soon this crap has got to end.
I don't believe in Fimbulvetr (or
In much besides, at this point, O my friend);
But know that I have been a damn fool for
The Ides of March, or something. I must wait
Until the real spring comes, as always, late.