No, T.S.—to be familiar, which is appropriate—April is not the cruelest month. It’s February.
Here in the Southwest, April is spring in full swing, daffodils blooming, forsythia out, lilac getting ready to bust its buds, and the sun warm enough to sit outside at lunchtime.
But February is a different matter. There are tiny sprouts of crocus in my garden—smaller than last year because of our relentless drought—but not any other sign of winter finally coming to an end. In fact we’re promised six to twelve inches of snow today.
So as I dig my way through this month, I’m making a new habit: to observe anything I can that will raise my spirits. It’s surprisingly easy to make the list. You try, too.
- The woman in town this morning, waiting to cross the street, who coordinated her splendid lavender ski jacket with a multicolored but mainly lavender knit cap—clearly home-made.
- Phyllis, my new friend with her little dog, whom I met on my favorite trail this morning, dark hair flowing free, round face rosy and damp with exertion, who told me about an adjoining trail up a nearby mountain I hadn’t yet discovered. (And of course the beautiful snow on the trail and among the trees in the pine forest.)
- Dinner with a dear old friend last night who is brought his delicious special-recipe casserole.
- The lengthening light which means when I take Pip for his walk at 6pm, the sun is just sinking in a fiery sky.
- My dentist—the only one I’ve ever visited who actually doesn’t hurt me (how many of us remember being told on our first visit to the teeth-mongers, “This won’t hurt”—which it promptly did?). Dr. Virginia Sharpe has replaced that miserable picking and scraping to get rid of plaque with warm water from a water pick while showing a fascinating video of Bob Ross explaining his painting technique: which brush, which color mixed with which color? The result is generic, easily copied by his many students—a pink sunset, green grass, a little rustic cabin in the foreground—but watching his creation of these dubious works of art could almost have distracted me from the old-fashioned picking and scraping.
So that’s my list of five reasons why February is actually NOT the cruelest month. I wonder what you have on your list.
Sallie, I love this refutation of Eliot’s quote. Now indeed is the time of gratitude.