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Spring creeps into Brooklyn on foggy Forsythia's fragile flowers.
Light like a balm... Winter's gone!
April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain.I remember last April, when you were at Dartmouth, and I gave you a bad restaurant recommendation in Woodstock, VT.Eliot seemed more appropriate to the spring rain and lilacs coming out of the dead land of the Connecticut River Valley than the concrete of Brooklyn.On the other hand, Eliot was writing about a city at the end of a river: Unreal City Under the brown fog of a winter dawn Hurry up please it's timeYes, the River. Elizabeth and Leicester Beating oars The stern was formed A gilded shell Red and gold The brisk swell Rippled both shores Southwest wind Carried down stream The peal of bells White towers Weialala leia Wallala leialalaDoes anyone ever beat oars in a gilded shell on the East River?
Here in Minnesota, Spring went out for a pack of cigarettes and hasn't been seen since.
Roadside Ohio yesterdayLawn ChairBloodrootHorseSome Really Tiny Flower.
It's a blistering 32º in west central WI, with a fresh coating of slush/snow. I don't know how much more of this global warming I can take. I just received my tree order notification from the Polk county conservation department, and the trees will be here April 24. It had better warm up.
Outstanding Bloodroot photo.
The top pic is gorgeous for some reason. :) Maybe it's the bold color...or maybe the fragility of the budding twig. Not sure why, but makes me think of this quote from "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" :"A person who pulls himself up from a low environment via the boot-strap route has two choices. Having risen above his environment, he can forget it; or, he can rise above it and never forget it and keep compassion in his heart for those has left behind him in the cruel up climb."
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