April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life…
–from The Waste Land
T.S. Eliot
I never believed April was cruel. I have always loved the month hovering between winter and spring. The trees mostly still winter bare, yet the grass growing, turning unimaginably green, and flowers of all colors rising out of the ground, small bursts of surprise, delighting both eye and nose. (Read more…)