Sunday, April 15, 2012

April is the Cruelist Month

Why title a post with a quote from T. S. Eliot's, "The Waste Land?"
Because it describes a gardener's frustration with the tease of Spring.

From day one, April celebrates the fool. Disparity's displayed in a splash of contrasting images, trees of pink under skies of grey. Earth Day is hailed and its hailing. The sun shines through random downpours, whacko lightening strikes bridges, high winds bring short lived heat waves. The atmosphere twitterpates with one hundred and one shades of new green pumping up the air. Bulbs burst with fragrance. Migratory birds chirp their return. The hills are alive with forget-me-whats? Lent and all the Easter brouhaha are so over. Next?

Spring emerges painfully, testing patience with the delicious uncertainty of possibilities.

Cooks find solace in green garlic and sorrel sauces, but the gardener waits and rants,watching carefully fluffed soil turn to mud, tender seedlings stand up to torrential rains. Luscious greens are picked balancing a broken golf umbrella in one hand, plodding around in wet socks, baggy gortex pants and a clunky raincoat. That sassy Easter bonnet's been replaced by a sorry looking Indiana Jones hat.

Weeds thrive but its too wet to weed. Mudslides threaten, paths are uncertain. The grass sloshes like a wet sponge. Gutters are clogged. Drip is the soundtrack. Aphids are having a heyday while newly hatched insects look to set up camp. Smells of sopped redwood fill allergy inclined nostrils. No happy ducks frolicking around in the puddles. Construction projects are at a standstill.

The promises of Spring get muddled, and that can be cruel. Expectations cause all the angst, as they do in real life. Yet the silver lining rings true.  With patience, the showers bring the flowers.

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