I saw two robins mating this week. They danced around each other in our back yard, wings raised. It looked more like sparring than dancing. Then he overpowered her and they became a wild blur of feathers. Just as quickly it was over. They looked at each other as if they were unsure about what had just happened. When they flew away I wondered if it was the same pair that had scouted our mulberry tree for a suitable nesting place. And I thought, "It must be April." I raked the lawn this week after the last remaining patch of snow melted away. As I gathered up the dead blades of grass I exposed the tiny trails left by a little vole and found entrances to the tunnels that had protected him during our brutal winter. I dragged my full leaf bag into the garage and returned to examine the lawn. It looked good, like a shock of unruly hair that had been combed into place. I wondered if it was too early to spread some fertilizer. And I thought, "It must be April."
I walked to work this week. I can take sidewalks most of the way, but the last stretch is a dangerous section beside a dirty ditch. The skim of ice on the water is gone now and the winter's garbage, tossed from passing cars over the last six months, is clearly visible. Here and there I spotted an empty beer bottle and I remembered my childhood in Clinton when my siblings and I would push an old baby buggy along Highway 8 and collect beer bottles. That gave us the money to buy our first album, Beatlemania. To this day I cannot walk past a beer bottle without picking it up, so I reminded myself to bring some plastic bags along the next time I walk to church. And I thought, "It must be April."
I watched the weather report this week. I was still cold from the chilling rain and blustery winds. The report predicted a string of cold days ahead, but it also included the promise of double digits. That was a vast improvement over the last few months when the weather man's best promise was the possibility of a day when the temperatures might reach "plus one!" It doesn't take much warmth to make a Canadian happy. A few days ago, when it hit 6 degrees Celsius, I saw a Mustang convertible with the top down. You won't see that on a 6 degrees day in November. And I thought, "It must be April."
T.S. Elliot called April "the cruellest month." Accountants plowing through stacks of tax returns probably agree. But Hal Borland called April "a promise that May is bound to keep." I like the hopeful sound of that. The cold rains of April are preparing the earth for the green buds and blades waiting for that spirit-lifting day when spring finally arrives. Like life after death and Easter Sunday after Good Friday, May must follow April.
In one of the most passionate books of the Bible, the one that describes the mating ritual between two humans, the author of Solomon's Song of Songs wrote, "For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land." I read this verse and wondered when it was written. Since it was composed in Israel where spring comes earlier than it does in Canada, I thought, "It must have been April."
- Pastor Peter
I walked to work this week. I can take sidewalks most of the way, but the last stretch is a dangerous section beside a dirty ditch. The skim of ice on the water is gone now and the winter's garbage, tossed from passing cars over the last six months, is clearly visible. Here and there I spotted an empty beer bottle and I remembered my childhood in Clinton when my siblings and I would push an old baby buggy along Highway 8 and collect beer bottles. That gave us the money to buy our first album, Beatlemania. To this day I cannot walk past a beer bottle without picking it up, so I reminded myself to bring some plastic bags along the next time I walk to church. And I thought, "It must be April."
I watched the weather report this week. I was still cold from the chilling rain and blustery winds. The report predicted a string of cold days ahead, but it also included the promise of double digits. That was a vast improvement over the last few months when the weather man's best promise was the possibility of a day when the temperatures might reach "plus one!" It doesn't take much warmth to make a Canadian happy. A few days ago, when it hit 6 degrees Celsius, I saw a Mustang convertible with the top down. You won't see that on a 6 degrees day in November. And I thought, "It must be April."
T.S. Elliot called April "the cruellest month." Accountants plowing through stacks of tax returns probably agree. But Hal Borland called April "a promise that May is bound to keep." I like the hopeful sound of that. The cold rains of April are preparing the earth for the green buds and blades waiting for that spirit-lifting day when spring finally arrives. Like life after death and Easter Sunday after Good Friday, May must follow April.
In one of the most passionate books of the Bible, the one that describes the mating ritual between two humans, the author of Solomon's Song of Songs wrote, "For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land." I read this verse and wondered when it was written. Since it was composed in Israel where spring comes earlier than it does in Canada, I thought, "It must have been April."
- Pastor Peter
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