As winter yields to spring, the vernal equinox foreshadows an inevitable change. The long nights become long days, and the repressed are free to bask in the warmth of spring.
Having spent my adolescence on the west coast, I was not prepared for the schizophrenia that is April. In California, April is just another month of warm days and cool nights. The equinox was an irrelevant date on the calendar, and spring was cooler than summer. In contrast, the oppressor, winter, punishes the plebeians who reside in the middle of the continent. April is our reward for endurance, but we mid-continentals, are nothing more than April fools.
Today is April 14th, it snowed, hailed and rained all day. My income taxes are due tomorrow, and the high school prom I coordinate is on April 27th. My students now behave like caged rats, and the drive to work has more pocks, cracks and shifts than the San Andreas Fault. I hate April! April is the greatest fallacy there ever was. Spring is not relief from winter, spring is just winter after winter.
April is as schizophrenic as my rant; it is unpredictable, unforgiving and a wild ride. Every year I look forward to April’s migrations, buds and renewal and each time I am bewildered by its unpredictability. Who is this deviant we call April?... your guess is as good as mine.
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