We certainly did not suffer the weight of snow dumped on the upper midwest yesterday, but T.S. Eliot’s weighty observation that April is the cruelest month seemed particularly apt when we woke up to white: and it seemed more like ice than snow! It might be aesthetically pleasing to see newly-sprouted grass and flowers frosted with white, but it does make you fear for your garden. Mother Nature is indeed a cruel master to tempt plants out of the protective earth with a warm weekend, and then slam them with an arctic frost! It was so warm a few days ago that I finally switched out the evergreen shrub in my front stoop pot with a tender purple-flowered variety, and now its leaves are black and curled. The same cats which frolicked in the back yard a few days ago are now back on their radiator perches, looking at me with suspicion.
iPad version of T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (1922), with really neat annotations.
April 17th, 2014 at 8:38 am
Cats KNOW their owners are responsible for the weather.
April 22nd, 2014 at 3:44 pm
This unexpected post of yours has taken me back to university days, with T.S. Eliot’s famous poem on the programme, and your photos jolly well illustrate its meaning!