To Quote from T. S. Elliot's THE WASTE LAND, "April is the cruelest month," and for me, this year has added great credence to Elliot's sentiment. The joy of an old fashioned winter was in our hearts early in November, but as the months snowed by, March came, and something inside of me wanted to find that simple beginning of a past that recalls the lushness of Spring, the drizzle of rain, the warmth of the sun, a passing breeze and the magical birth of new growth. With the arrival of April, I am reminded of Geoffrey Chaucer's CANTERBURY TALES, when in the prologue (in Middle English) he starts by saying,
"Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour:"
As this journey unfolds, Chaucer offers tale after tale to enliven and illuminate the path to Canterbury.
For me, Spring always seems like the beginning of a new journey. It's a great awakening; a time to absorb the many tales of this upcoming new season.
Tree at The Bend in the Road
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