Saturday, April 01, 2006
April
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of bird's cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills,
And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.
___________________John Masefield___________________
March is the two year old of the calendar year; playful and sparkling one moment, sullen and contrary the next... this March I'll not miss, as it was mostly on the downside; a month mainly of sunless cold, where even the songbirds got on each other's nerves. When they weren't hunkered down in the arborvitae, they were squabbling with each other, rather than cheerfully singing from the treetops. April can also be tempestuous here in the midwest, where we are wide open to weather fronts from every direction; temperatures can rise or fall sixty degrees in a matter of two or three days, and clear, beaming skys can fill with lowering thunderclouds and twisting tornados in an hour, with sirens blowing, and ominous squiggles of red and yellow on the weather radar. For the most part, though, April is a beauty; perhaps a gawky, coltish beauty compared to spectacular May, but a beauty nevertheless, and it is the month where the garden fairly explodes. The browns and grays of March will give way all at once to green grass, blue sky, and thousands of daffodils in yellows and pristine white, all looking skyward to the warming sun. I am content.
// posted by IBOY @ 6:29 AM 
