Wednesday, April 25, 2018

April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land I’m taken aback when I realize that two years ago at this time the lilacs were blooming. This winter really was what it seemed: long. Today, I’m going to

Monday, April 16, 2018

Spring is made of solid, fourteen-karat gratitude, the reward for the long wait. Every religious tradition from the northern hemisphere honors some form of April hallelujah, for this is the season of exquisite redemption, a slam-bang return to joy after a season of cold second thoughts. Barbara Kingsolver, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle So gradual is the