Mad as a March Hare, goes the saying. Likely because in March, the lust of mating lies heavy on their bodies? Once, while living in Wales during mid-1970’s. Witnessed a Hare, or Rabbit, likely a Hare. Leaping and gambolling in the field across the road, one late March day.
Alberta, in the city of Calgary. One may see Hares, Jackrabbits. Astonishingly fast, when they need to be. A zigging and a zagging, outrunning their predators. Once only, was I in Calgary in March. Didn’t see any Jackrabbits then. Just a skiff of snow across the black top, waiting for take-off on my way to Heathrow, London. The brown and pale gold patchwork of fields as we left.
Eventually descending 9 hours later. Into the landscape of brilliant greens that make the home counties what they are. No matter how many times I’ve done that trip, that descent and circling of London City, in holding pattern waiting to land near Hounslow. Hounslow Heath, one row of cottages – Heath Row. Gave what became London’s main airport, its name.
Holding the Ball 
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