Who can count the times, in childhood, that we made Crayola umbrellas and big fat rain drops on construction paper, gray clouds in the sky? Underneath, the teacher had printed "April Showers."
We all know, from T.S. Eliot, that April is "the cruelest month."
It begins with April Fool's Day--which is now every day of the year as long as it is presided over by a cast of fools.
But besides all that, it's a good month in Texas with weather that goes from moderate to summer hot in a day, the month of three of my friends' birthdays, the month when maybe it might possibly rain one day.
A tenth of the population of the U.S. participated in No Kings Marches on Saturday--which I would have done if my feet would march.
I'm enjoying several excellent shows on PBS: Thoreau, The Forsyts, and The Mount of Monte Cristo.
At the moment I'm eating a thin slice of white toast with blackberry jam. I prefer blackberry over any other topping because it reminds me of childhood in Georgia when blackberries grew abundantly. Mamas made blackberry cobbler and jams, seeds in, cementing it in my mind as the best of all berries.
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