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 go out in the yard and photograph the stage they’re at now for comparison.

I suppose if every year was the same it would be predictably boring. There are reasons that I don’t understand why seasons change so much from year to year. Mine is simply to appreciate the now.

It’s something I’m still working on.

Word wrangler. Photo taker. I'm here early most mornings with one of my photos and a few words about life and those thin places where faith intersects. Coming Summer 2020: The Presence of Absence: A Story About Busyness, Brokenness, and Being Beloved.
1 comment
  1. I LOVE lilacs…they remind me of my mom. We don’t have any blooming yet here either, but I imagine it might start to happen in a couple/few weeks. The weather is finally turning. Beautiful photo – thank you.

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