Goodbye Winter

[poliphilo]

A pinch and a punch on the first of the month.

I know what Eliot says about April being the cruelest month, but I've never understood it; I'd be glad for it to be April now and the lilacs growing out of the dead land.

Does he mean that April fails to live up to its promise?

I guess one can't accuse February of that. February makes no promises. It is the coldest, bleakest, muddiest, dankest month. Thank God, it is also the shortest.

And now it's March. And here comes Flora, with one hand on her hat, pushing her way against a strong, cold wind, with daffodils clasped in the crook of her arm.

Comments

[strange-complex.livejournal.com]

Ooh, calendars! I hadn't thought yet. This means I get a new guinea-pig: white this month, instead of brown for February. He has some butter-cups.

I will have to wait to see what new view of Oxford awaits me when I get home.

P.S. As I write this, it has just start hailing in Belfast.

[halfmoon-mollie.livejournal.com]

I had a friend one time, who lived in Athlone. When we'd talk (EARLY in the morning here) I'd complain about the snow.

And he'd always say "You Americans. You all come from fine pioneer stock..."

No, no. Some of us are decended from aristocrats....and we don't like the cold....