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April

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

I just got in from snapping some pics of crocus, the only thing blooming in our garden right now. To me, they’re the essence of spring.

I suppose April is cruel in a way, luring new growth from the soil and then lashing it with spiteful days of cold rain or snow, but it’s my birth month and I love it. Those days when we can first smell the earth make me a little dizzy. To believe, in the dark, damp depths of a Maritime winter, that sunshine and green grass and sparkling seas will come again is a leap of faith, but it’s justified every year.

We’re having a beautiful spring, and a beautiful Easter Sunday. I hope you are, too.

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