April May Be the Cruelest Month, but November Can Be Pretty Strange

April May Be the Cruelest Month, but November Can Be Pretty Strange

The rain originally forecast for today apparently fell Thursday and Friday instead. Today’s clear weather provided an opportunity to finish getting the gardens ready for winter. That meant cutting the butterfly bush and the hydrangeas down to the ground. Cutting away the butterfly bush revealed this Saint Patrick rose.

This is actually one of the most well-formed blossoms on this rose bush for the entire year. The sun in mid-afternoon was low enough to cast long shadows.

Within a few hours winter this last rose of summer was buffeted by winds and lake-effect snow. The lake offering its moisture to this snowfall is Lake Erie, about three hundred miles to the northwest at the closest point.

T.S. Eliot’s poem “The Wasteland,” which begins with the words “April is the cruelest month,” is a reluctant admission that hope is always present. Hope, in the sense of a confident expectation and not just wishful thinking, is always present for the believer. Circumstances, like the weather, can change dramatically and with little warning. The Christian understands that our confident expectation, our trust in God’s grace and mercy, sustains us regardless of how circumstances ebb and flow around us.

I also read a review today of Unapologetic by Francis Spufford. The review had a line about the Adagio movement from Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto: “[T]he novelist Rchard Powers once commented [that it ] is what mercy would sound like.” The review also says that the book can be summarized in the sentence “Far more can be mended than you know.” The review itself was enjoyable reading. I am looking forward to reading the book as well.

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