Don't Be Cruel to a Month That's Gloom

"April is the cruelest month."

You've heard the quote before. I have heard it before. I always assumed that it is a reference to the fact that April is supposed to be springtime, but it can be cold and bitter, stormy and gloomy. I think that sentence in my head a lot when I am outside in dismal April weather, but then I always start to ponder whether it really is the cruelest month. There are certainly months with more dismal weather, but then, February is supposed to be dismal. Is April crueler because we think it is supposed to be kind and gentle, but it is horrid? Is it the contrast between what we expect April to give us and what we actually receive that makes it cruel, the cruelest? Is it that betrayal that is the basis of that cruelty?

Well, after all these years of wondering what that sentence really means, I looked it up. I didn't even have any idea where the quote came from. None at all. So, I found out that it is the first line of a poem, The Waste Land, by T. S. Eliot. Actually, it is not even the entire first line, and it is not by far the entire first sentence, which is as follows:

April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

That doesn't sound cruel to me. So, the poem goes on:

Winter kept us warm, covering

Earth in forgetful snow, feeding

A little life with dried tubers.

 Umm... no winter did not keep us warm. I mean, this winter wasn't so bad as winters go, but we were not kept warm by it. Don't worry, I am not going to go on with this poem. I am not even going to bother with telling you what it says about summer, which is both incomprehensible and mundane, or what comes after summer in this poem - I didn't even finish reading it, it is long, long, long, and obtuse, and randomly throws in other languages, and now that I have looked up "April is the cruelest month" to find out what that means, I have no freaking idea. This poem is the epitome of why I hate poetry (except for Jabberwocky).

So, I am going to just go on thinking it is because April does not give us what we want, and believing that April is unfairly condemned for this. Today was one of those horrible, cruel April days, but I discovered the silver lining in all of those forbidding, dreary clouds, and it is this: On cold, dreary April Saturdays, nobody is outside with their leaf blower, or their lawn mower, or their chainsaw, or any other noise making machine. Kids are not outside screaming as they play. Nobody's dog is even outside barking. Today, a day with almost not even a breeze, much less a roaring wind, was quiet. If not for the occasional snippet of birdsong, and the faint, distant murmur of traffic on the highway in the distance (and there even seemed to be little of that today), this raw April day was blessedly quiet. I even took care as I walked around the backyard to not step on twigs or leaves on the path, so that I could maintain the silence. And that peace is so beautiful and rare.

And then my husband started practicing his saxophone - in the house, not in the backyard, but the saxophone is loud - and the stillness was shattered.

Anyway...

April does have its moments of hope and grace. Backyard Bird of the Day:

 A sparrow collecting nest building materials in the rock garden.

 Sorry the pictures are so blurry, they were taken through a window screen. But it was such a heartening sight to see, I couldn't resist grabbing the camera to capture it.

I did two bug walks today. The first one was short, and I didn't want to be outside doing a bug walk because I needed to get going somewhere, and was only out there out of a sense of duty (to whom I am not sure), and I was hoping it would start raining so I would have an excuse to give up. The second one I did when I got home, happy to have returned before dark so I could make up for my grudging walk earlier, and this one was a much longer walk. On my first walk I found one bug, and it's not because the walk was short due to my lack of time. I had about 15 minutes to spend on it, and only spent ten, because it is the finding of bugs that slows you down - well, it's not the only thing, but the point is, if you don't have to stop to take pictures, it doesn't take long to do a bug walk. The second walk was much longer, but I didn't find many more bugs on that one. It just took longer because I like being outside, even though it was a cruel day, and my fingers were almost too cold to use the camera. I was enjoying the silence.

What made the second bug walk so satisfying, though, is that I found a really good bug for Backyard Bug of the Day:

 Brown lacewing. This is only the third time I have ever seen one, I think. I saw one a couple of weeks ago, but it flew away before I could get a picture, and before that I saw one once, maybe last year, maybe the year before, on another cold day when I did not expect to find any bugs. I see green lacewings a few times a year, but for my backyard this is a rare sigh.

 Pretty iridescence

 Closer look at the iridescence

 Here's a zoomed-in look at the above picture, so you can see the mouth parts. I don't know what order this belongs in, but definitely not in Hemiptera.

Random Bugs:

 The lone bug I found on my first bug walk. Found in the rock garden. Actually, it's a lie to say I didn't see any other bugs on that walk - there were still some sawflies on the bush in the rock garden, and a lot of larvae, but after I posted so many pictures of them yesterday, I didn't bother to take any today. I should note that today I only saw females. Anyway, don't know what this bug is - it's one of those bugs that I am not sure if it's a bee, a wasp, or some kind of fly.

 Contrary to what I thought when I first saw it, this gnat is not stuck to this spider web.

 It turned around and walked along it like an upside down tightrope. And then flew away.

 Moth hiding behind a stick.

 Most of the bugs I saw today were in places that were extremely awkward for me to take pictures of them. This one was a bit too high, and a bit too close to another branch. I am glad no one watches me while I do my bug walks.

 Unappreciable Arachnid:

This is what ticks do, they perch on the tip of a stem and reach out to try to grab onto any animal that walks by. This one did not grab me.