The poet T.S. ELiot once said that April is the cruel month. I’ve pondered what he meant by that and finally came up with my own possible explanations. For one there is the weather and this year weather has been capricious all over the nation, from record-breaking snow drifts in our nation’s capital and the record breaking time during which all states except Hawaii had snow on the ground. Of course New England has been floating for the past few weeks. Colorado’s April weather is, of course, famous for possible snow ten months or more during the year.
Perhaps Eliot was referring to human behavior–the kind we saw in the 1999 Columbine school shootings and the Oklahoma City bombing also in the month of April. I remember the day after the bombing when I took a walk to try and clear my mind of the images of destruction being shown on television.
The sun shone warm on the shoulders like a comforting shawl and a slight breeze carried the sweet smell of nearby flowering trees. Walking past a small wooded area of a nature preserve a slight movement caught my eye. I stopped and there, not more than a dozen feet from the sidewalk was a mother fox with three kits. The babies stopped their tumbling play to glance up momentarily, but the mother fox fixed her gaze on me. We stared at each other for what seemed long minutes, then I went on my way refreshed and reassured that no evil can take away the healing force of nature.
I must disagree with Eliot about April. While the month is full of surprises, it is full also of promises. A new season of creativity lies ahead for writers. If you’re a gardener and if you own a spendid dog like Henry, there is a whole bunch of stuff to do and to write about. The sun is out, the wind has stopped its excessive blowing, and this is a fine day to write something. Right after my walk with Henry.