​April.

Spring has sprung. For a day and then the snow comes again, dumping, flurrying, and then gone in a sweep of wind.

April showers bring May flowers, but I find that the showers come in March with the daffodils, April is mud season, and May is very purple and yellow, at least in my backyard.

April is quiet. The kids are still in school without the end of the year frenzy.

Birds are chirping, bunnies are burrowing, squirrels are fleeing, and mice are leaving garages and attics. The shutter is half falling off and the gate is bent; the driveway is oil-stained and the weeds are limp.

The tea is warm, though.

Reassess. Recharge. Re-emerge.