Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote

Pinch, punch, first of the month…

Well, as the poet says, this month is all about sap rising and Spring springing:

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote

The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in swich licour,

Of which vertu engendred is the flour

But today's theme seems to be tend more to biting gale force winds, so perhaps a little T.S.Eliot would be more apposite instead?

April is the cruellest month, breeding      

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing             

Memory and desire, stirring         

Dull roots with spring rain.          

Even so, talking of stirring dull roots, the plum tree in the garden is covered in dainty pale pink blossom. Ephemeral, perfect only in the moment of falling, as the Japanese see it, but beautiful and spring-like nonetheless. And therefore worthy of celebration!

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