Each April, at least once, I think of the T.S. Eliot quote about April being the cruelest month. I don't usually think of it in terms of taxes; happily, my tax situation is rarely that interesting. Even this past year, when we moved from Florida, a state with no state income tax, to North Carolina, a state that does tax income, it was fairly straight forward, even though state tax wasn't withheld.
In earlier years, April has seemed cruel because summer crashes the spring celebrations; the heat comes much too early. In my adult life, I've never lived in a place where the weather turns cold again--until now.
The seminary switched the buildings from heat to AC last week, which makes sense. But yesterday, I was feeling a bit chilly. I looked at the sunshine and decided to take a walk. The brisk wind that cut right through me made me change my mind.
You might ask, "Why don't you wear a coat?" I left my coats in North Carolina. We'd had weeks of warm weather, and I thought I wouldn't need them.
And I really don't. It will warm up again soon. I can wear layers. Still, I'm noticing it.
On a writing related note, I went back to my blog and did a search for T.S. Eliot--had I written about April being a cruel month before?
Not as much as I might think. Some of the blog posts contained an evocative line or two, and I copied them into a blank Word doc. Perhaps I will play with them later.
Here are a few, if you want to play. Each line could be a stanza. Or maybe they go together as a poem as is. Or maybe . . .
I
have not yet mastered all my moods.
Why
should I even bother blues
The
older I get, the more I shrug
Every
season a hinge
With
reckless abandon, we plant flowers.
No comments:
Post a Comment