whan that aprille with his shoures soote

It's already April, and it's been a 4-month hiatus since i've posted anything here, and this afternoon the April showers came pouring down on the official opening ceremony of the park/playground just outside my back door, and the member of parliament with his entourage and all the guests and performers were forced to take shelter under the tentage with the wind blowing the rain in their faces.

Rain like the shower that came this afternoon is often unwanted - but this year, i've been praying for the kind of rain Chaucer was talking about in his opening to The Canterbury Tales - the sweet showers in today's post title. The other obvious candidate for a first post in April was, of course, TS Eliot - "April is the cruellest month" - but that has not been true so far this year, and perhaps it's time to give poor Eliot a break, as i'm fairly certain he's done his duty on this blog before. Instead, this April seems to be an answer to prayer - and i am tempted to say, "Well, about time!"; but that would be tempting fate, and anyway, i've never approached life with much of a sense of entitlement. So i will simply accept the unexpected blessings with a quiet gratitude made all the stronger because i know how quickly such blessings can be snatched away.

Life is intractable, and tenuous, and a whole lot of other words that feel good on the tongue, and that i have somewhere in the back of my mind but can't call up right now. i don't think i'll ever wrap my mind around it. That's OK. i've learnt to live with not knowing. i've learnt to live with being human. ... ...