Was March pretending to be April? Or was April reluctantly taking March’s place?
For the past few days, the answer to either of those questions could’ve been “yes.” One moment it seemed that Winter didn’t want to loosen its grip; in another, Spring wanted to deliver us from the lessons of mud and bare branches.
And those lessons—what is to be learned from them? That buds open to rain that pokes them; colors spring from old wounds.
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While pedaling into, and with the wind, I realized that I look forward to cherry blossoms and wildflowers not only because they’re pretty, but their vibrancy is so hard-won after months of cold and darkness.