Spring

T. S. Eliot wrote that "April is the cruellest month." Clearly, dear Mr. Eliot never lived in Minnesota. If he had, he would know that March -- March is the cruelest month.

It sort of feels like spring today. I think the high is 38. The snow is melting. It's sort of grey and foggy out. I don't like to get my hopes too far up, though, because next week it could snow two feet and all that uncovered ground could once again be covered in snow. Back to square one.

We don't want it to be too spring, too fast here in West Lake Woebegone because we live in a little valley left by a giant melting glacier. Everything runs downhill and into our basements and since we established the other day that my basement is not the tidiest, it would be better if spring came slowly. Certainly it would be nice if we had a Camelot spring and we just woke up tomorrow and the snow was gone and the sky was blue and the grass was green, but I don't really think that's going to happen.

Later on in his poem Eliot writes "Datta, dayadhvam, damyata" which means give, sympathize, control in Sanskrit. If I had my English major hat on, I would tell you what I think he means. Since I am more likely to analyze "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" these days, I will just say I think it's my motto for March -- the cruelest month.