In his poem “The Wasteland,” T.S. Eliot said,
“April is the cruellest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.”
Well, he’s wrong. February is the cruelest month. Maybe it’s because it’s shortest, or because this in the month during which all of our winter anxieties seem to dam up against the impending onset of—and wishes for—spring.
That was a somewhat dramatic way to preface the fact that I’m posting to say February has and will continue to be a busy month for me. I’ve got a lot of books on the bedside table, pots on the stove, plates in the air, or whatever euphemism you’d like to use for saying I’m a bit busy.
So, please excuse the relative dearth of posts this month. My aim is to be back to my regular bi-weekly posting schedule for March when, as we all know, the snow will begin to melt and the ground will begin to thaw, and yes, Mr. Eliot, we can look forward to lilacs “stirring” from their “dull roots.”
And we all love lilacs. And flowers in general. And spring. And books.