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April showers

Serendipity? Works for me.

I suppose it would be equally legitimate to acknowledge I am seldom far away from my camera, making full use of that marvelous DELETE button (plus being able to enjoy seeing the results immediately). I do tend to quite freely snap away. Or, perhaps, I just see more things I think deserve to be recorded.

The rainbow sun-catcher has hung in my bathroom window probably as long as I’ve lived here. It’s plastic and hardly catches any sun – the broken crystals do a much nicer job – but it’s there and I see no reason to (re)move it.

When rain pelted that very window, I knew I had to have a picture. Why? Danged if I know beyond wanting to savor the juxtaposition.

Now of course it’s a perfect jumping off point for an April first column.

Sure, we know April showers bring those May flowers but did you know the saying was first attributed to Thomas Tusser, who lived in the middle of the 16th century? (He’s also credited with “Christmas comes but once a year.” Well … OK.)

Shakespeare has his own way of saluting the month: “He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.”

Undeniably, April – spring – is the time of youth, love and all that extra spring to our step and lilt to our voice. We smile more, we may even sing. Walking out the door less encumbered with heavy coat, hat, gloves and boots is a glory in itself. I may not be, but definitely do, feel lighter. I’ve been hearing some of the birds since early February but can appreciate their song so much better when I can crank open a window. Not for long, agreed, but it’s a start – and I welcome it.

Winter seems to have persuaded the cat that it’s all right (and certainly warmer) to do her bird-watching from indoors. The dogs still return in desperate need of the towel (which remains tucked over the broom by the door). They’ve only substituted rain (for the most part) for snow.

Blame it on my age (if one must) but I cannot help but see the rain behind the rainbow. Another name gets crossed off my declining Christmas list while my creaks gets louder and the ground seems yet again further away when I sit to weed. I may be a bit slower while the days have never whizzed by any quicker.

I pick up a little book from church of daily readings, some of which I find very helpful. But there’s a prayer on the back that begins, “Give me strength to live another day.”

I guess it’s a valid plea but, every time I read it, I see it as a downer, as in asking for the strength to survive one more day.

Perhaps it’s simply a matter of words, but I’d change it to ask for the energy to appreciate another day. Like the rainbow, there is so much glorious in front of my eyes. I rejoice and hope you can too.

There’ll be a family wedding within the month and I rejoice in the celebration of this special couple. I’m generally not keen on weddings but do look forward to this. Still, while one tends to think of Cupid as having youngsters as the target of his arrows, I’m nowhere near ready to abdicate. One’s never too old … well, yeah.

And need I remind anyone of the tears of joy frequently shed? I’m definitely an old sentimental softie (and proud of it).

So sun it will be … and rain … and, undoubtedly, a little snow thrown into the equation as well.

Why not? Isn’t it April?

Just ask Robert Frost:

The sun was warm but the wind was chill.

You know how it is with an April day

When the sun is out and the wind is still,

You’re one month on in the middle of May.

But if you so much as dare to speak,

A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,

A wind comes off a frozen peak,

And you’re two months back in the middle of March.

Susan Crossett has lived outside Cassadaga for more than 20 years. A lifetime of writing led to these columns as well as two novels. “Her Reason for Being” was published in 2008 with “Love in Three Acts” appearing in 2014. Copies are available at the Cassadaga ShurFine and Papaya Arts on the Boardwalk in Dunkirk. Information on all the Musings, the books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com.

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