“What is it that confers the noblest delight? What is that which swells a man’s breast with pride above that which any other experience can bring to him? Discovery!”
– Mark Twain
March is going out like a lion — no big surprise there. Meanwhile, the March Ex(clusion) is declared OVER. It has unwrapped itself in a way that I never could have predicted. This whole thing originated as a time-management experiment designed to re-calibrate a design practice that I didn’t realize was fated for demise, in transition to my true calling. 
I’m an artist now, belatedly but wholeheartedly, as I dreamed I’d be since childhood. The March ritual has become an internal, near-sacramental custom — more difficult to describe than ever. But that’s not the point of it. The 31-day string of blog posts is just a way to modulate my attention span and, perhaps, to crystalize as relics a few word clusters with the potential to re-animate various worthy insights at a later time. Would that I had the talent and capacity to write down the many intangible illuminations that peppered this month! That’s not my gift, any more than the ability to devise winning basketball plays under pressure (like my godfather) or to compose organ music in solitude (like my grandfather). Spring (who has sprung) points me to the open air. I am better prepared to answer her summons with another March under my belt (and, before long, to enter my eighth decade). April, here I come.
Today’s sight bite— His severe yet compassionate visage, with the ever-present verdigris patina, —c-l-i-c-k— that man on the Danville obelisk, seeming to acknowledge and endorse the success of a ritual that I’ve conducted in some guise for 16 years.